One Big Little Secret: A Secret Baby Romance (The Rory Brothers Book 2)

In hindsight, I might have overreacted.

The problem is I don’t regret it.

The logical thing to do was exactly what she asked—arranging a tow to take her home and get her shit sorted.

That’s what any self-respecting boss looking out for an employee would do in my position.

Me? I had to freak the hell out and go in guns blazing the instant I knew they were stuck in the storm. The edge in her voice on the phone—fuck, I’ve never moved so fast in my life.

Now, here I am, tucked away in her small, warm apartment while Arlo talks himself up as reigning karate champ of the world. The kid makes it sound like he was born with black belt in his blood.

Must be from his mother’s side since he sure as hell didn’t get it from his ghost of a dad.

Salem watches us, sitting across from me in an armchair with fabric tape holding one ripped seam together.

I can’t quite read the expression in her eyes.

Something haunted, wistful, a wariness I probably deserve.

It’s probably not often grown men visit her place this late, especially with the boy around.

Knowing our past, barging in like I did was probably a dumb move, and she must regret it every second. But I’ll sort out whatever the hell this is later, when I’m not in their apartment.

The doorbell rings and Salem jumps like a startled cat.

“Stay there, guys. I’ll get the pizza.”

“I loooove pizza!” Arlo tells me, pumping his fist like he’s revealing some great secret. “It’s my favorite but Mommy doesn’t let us have it very often.”

I suspect he thinks this is a character flaw.

“Your mommy wants you to eat healthy so you can grow up to kick some butt. Just like your heroes,” Salem says, returning with two large boxes in her hands.

The little pizza shop up the street isn’t one of those fancy places with all locally sourced ingredients and more cheese than sauce. Really, it’s one step above pure take-out comfort trash, but when she lays the boxes down on the table and opens the lid and the warm, greasy scent curls out, I know he was right.

Tonight’s perfect for junk food.

There’s something comforting about the smell, and I close my eyes as I inhale.

To think, if I hadn’t answered her call, I’d be scrambling eggs and spinach with a steak on the side at home. My go-to after a long day when it’s reasonably healthy and it doesn’t take long to throw together.

“Wash your hands, Arlo,” Salem commands as he rushes toward her. “And make sure you use soap.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say.

She glances up with a tiny smile.

Shit, I could stare at that smile all day. I’m glad she’s getting over the storm rattling her.

Stop looking at her like that, a voice growls in the back of my mind.

“I’ll plate us up,” is all she says.

After we’re all washed up and ready—and she inspects Arlo’s hands to make sure he really did use soap—she hands out plates with one big slice for each of us.

We devour the grub eagerly in companionable silence.

Fuck me, this pizza is good.

It’s just basic pepperoni, aside from my margherita pizza, but it’s the perfect warmth, grease, cheese, and spice we need on a shit night.

“I don’t care what anybody says. Best pizza in Kansas City,” Salem tells me with an amused glance at Arlo, who’s eating himself into a food coma. “I know a certain someone agrees.”

“Who?” Arlo asks, chewing obliviously.

“He’s not wrong. This is incredible.”

“I’ll let the owner know you think it’s good. Strong endorsement, coming from a Rory.”

“You know him?”

“His son lives in the building, just a few units down,” she says with a shrug. “He’s taken a liking to Arlo—or Arlo’s taken a liking to him. I don’t know how it happened, but they’re friends now. He always stops to talk when he sees us in the hall.”

I hate that I can see that. Arlo’s a good kid, now that I’ve gotten to know him better. With his mom handling him alone, it’s easy to appreciate how he’s turning out.

What’s harder is feeling jealousy flaring in my blood.

How old is this son, anyway?

How well do they really know each other?

The thought of some pizza slinging doofus on her home turf climbing through her window for a quickie after Arlo’s asleep robs a little enjoyment from the cheesy goodness.Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

I swallow roughly.

I know, I’m being ridiculous.

But I can’t get mad at Arlo for making friends with a guy who isn’t true competition for a woman I’m not fucking after.

All around the apartment, you can see how simple his life is.

His small toy pile in the corner. A little desk with pencils and pens and crayons piled on top, mostly bundled together with rubber bands. A few photos of Salem and Arlo on the wall.

There’s one propped up on the windowsill, showing him as a baby. A worn-looking Salem holds him with a tired smile on her face.

In that photo, she looks a lot like the girl I remembered.

Not as glamorous, maybe, but with the same reddish tint to her hair and the same youthful glow to her face.

“Sorry it’s a mess here. If I knew you were coming, I would’ve straightened up,” she says, bringing my attention back to her.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Even if I hadn’t seen her photos, I’d remember better times, when we were younger and more carefree.

The way her hair, still half-damp from the snow, falls around her face probably has a lot to do with that now, making her glow. Plus, the way her cheeks look deliciously red.

Damn, the last time I saw her this flushed was—

No.

The intrusive thoughts about sexy times that can never happen again must end.

I can’t believe I ever gave Dexter so much shit about his fake-engagement-turned-real when I’m this goddamn obsessed with a hookup from ancient history.

“Your place is charming,” I say, remembering my manners before the silence stretches too long. “Homely and real.”

“Um, thanks.” Her eyebrow quirks. “You can spare me the compliments. I’ve been to your mom’s house. That place is a palace compared to here.”

“Yeah. Hasn’t changed a beat since I was Arlo’s age. I don’t like it.”

“Your mom’s house? Come on.”

“I’m not saying it isn’t cozy. Just that the big Victorian mansion isn’t my style with its size and suffocating history. If you ever visit my place, you’ll see.”

For fuck’s sake, man. Stop encouraging more visits from her outside the office.

“Oh, I have a pretty good idea what you like.” Her mouth presses together like she’s suppressing a smile. “Minimalist. Modern. Black and white and grey.”

“Is that so awful?”

“No, but this apartment isn’t any of those. More like a cluttered box from the Great Depression.”

“It’s homey.” I’m adamant.

“Yeah, okay. But thanks for not using more choice words where little ears can hear.” She snorts.

I nod at Arlo’s pictures and the photos on the wall. Everything is worn, just enough that it feels like they’ve lived here for a long time, settling into the very bones of the apartment.

“My mother’s place isn’t particularly homey anymore. I might’ve felt that way as a kid, once, but now that it’s just her living there? The place is cavernous. Too extravagant and too huge for just her, even if she likes hosting her parties. We keep wondering when she’ll downsize, but it’s hard to get past the memories.”

“Let her have them, Patton, if she can afford it. Your mom’s a lovely person.”

“Never said she wasn’t.”

Salem acknowledges that with a tilt of her head and glances at Arlo. He’s basically nodding off over his plate after polishing off a second slice.

“It’s been a long day,” she says quietly. “Let me put him to bed. You can make yourself at home.”

I stretch out on the sofa and help myself to more pizza. All the stress with the snow summoned a monster appetite. The rest of the pepperoni can stay—easy leftovers that will make the kid happy and hopefully save Salem from having to cook tomorrow.

Arlo’s head lolls on Salem’s shoulder as she carries him to bed. The tenderness in the gesture makes my stomach pinch.

It’s sad as hell that she has to deal with this little guy on her own when clearly someone helped make him. My eyes flick back to her photos again, studying them closely.

There’s no sign of a man in any, and oddly, no pictures with other relatives either. Where the hell are her parents?

It’s a shit feeling, knowing the kid might not have a father or a grandfather at all. I can’t wrap my head around it.

Having lost my old man, though, I know what it’s like to be missing a dad.

Also, Salem deserves help.

After the day she’s had, she shouldn’t have to handle Arlo by herself, bouncing from one crisis to the next with dinner in between.

I have just enough time to polish off the remainder of my food before she reappears and joins me on the sofa, leaning back just like I am. Her thigh hovers about an inch from mine.

Don’t notice her, you asshole.

Keep your eyes glued to the wall.

Does it matter? It’s not like I’m going to do anything about it, never mind the raging heat in my veins urging me to reach out and touch her.

“Thank you,” she says again with a sigh. “I know you keep saying it’s cool and it’s all for business, but you saved my skin tonight. If there’s any way I can repay you, Patton, please speak up.”

“I don’t need repaying. I’m not a damn machine.”

She raises her head as she looks at me, her hazel eyes glinting with gold curiosity.

“You say that now, but you came all the way out here, and you…” She raises her hand helplessly as her voice cracks. “I don’t know. It just feels like a lot.”

“I’m happy to help. Sincerely. Without sounding like an ass-kisser, I appreciate what you do for Higher Ends. The mentorship isn’t much of a bonus, all things considered.”

She snickers and mutters an apology.

“Sorry. But that sounds like you’re being a huge kiss-ass.”

“Well, I mean it.” Somebody stop me before I say something else I regret.

But hell, she’s here with her kid and a business she has no stake in. I don’t know how she handles it.

“I suppose it’s good to finally get a real compliment out of you,” she says.

I swivel to face her. “Do I make you feel unappreciated?”

She hesitates.

“…it’s more that you could just be nicer,” she says slowly, but it’s more of a yes than I want to admit. “I’m not saying you’re the bad guy. I’ve messed up a few times and made everything harder than it needs to be.”

“Everyone fucks up. That’s life.” I wave a hand. “Even me, if you can believe it.”

Her eyes crinkle as she smiles.

Such a stark contrast from the way I first found her tonight, when her eyes were wide and dark with fear. Even after she was safe, she had that devastated look.

Now, in the safety of her own home, she’s relaxed, and it’s smoothed away the tightness around her face that I’ve often seen around the office.

“You?” she teases. “I can’t believe it.”

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but I’m far from perfect.” I smile back at her. She blinks, like she wasn’t expecting it.

Maybe we’ve both been too busy, shutting ourselves down, spinning this delicate dance where we’re too fucking scared of offending each other to let us be real.

After tonight, I’m done playing.

“It must be a lot,” I say carefully, looking around the room again. “Balancing all this and Arlo and your job at the same time.”

Silence swarms us again.

She slowly loses her smile, stiffening and sitting up like I’m passing some sort of judgment.

“I didn’t mean to pry. Just telling you what I see,” I venture.

“It can be hard sometimes, I guess. But it’s worth it.”

She doesn’t deny that she’s doing this alone like I thought.

“I didn’t mean to make you dwell on it. Or imply you’re not doing a great job.”

Her hands relax slightly.

“He’s a lot sometimes. I love him to death, don’t get me wrong.”

“Isn’t that every kid? If you hear my mom talk, we were little nightmares growing up. Ironically, Archer was the worst. First kid, you know. Big brother got real pissed when the rest of us were born and he was no longer the golden boy.”

She gives me a bittersweet smile.

“I think Arlo would be the same way. Not that it’ll ever happen.” She tucks a stray lock of hair back behind her ear.

“Why’s that? You’re young. Plenty of time for more babies.”

The hectic flush on her cheeks fades now, but that doesn’t stop my imagination or my curiosity.

Usually, it’s a blessing, helping me visualize fresh ideas. Now, though, it’s a curse.

I’m too damn close to slipping up in ways I know I shouldn’t. Not just poking my nose into her life where it doesn’t belong, but letting my hands wander.

For the last time, get your brain out of your dick.

“I suppose I’d need a guy for that, and that means dating. Yuck.” Her face screws up and she makes a disgusted sound.

I chuckle. That’s one feeling we share, even if my reasons are very different from hers for keeping my bachelor card.

“Yeah, that’s the hard part. A bigger family lightens the workload, though,” I tell her. “Mom had Dad until I was small. He’s gone now, but when we were kids, he’d take us out so we didn’t destroy more of Mom’s antique furniture.”

“That must have been nice.”

“I think Mom would’ve gone mad a long time ago if he hadn’t.” I’m not being even remotely subtle now, but fuck. I need to know for sure if this is it, all she has in her life. “Does anybody ever help you with Arlo when it’s too much? Your parents?”

She looks down.

“I mean, there’s Mrs. Gabbard, the babysitter from downstairs. She’s been a huge help and she’s a sweet lady. My parents are out of state.” Salem folds her arms defensively. “And now that you got us the company sitter, I have a little more flexibility there.”

That doesn’t tell me shit.

Where is this girl’s family? And the other half of the kid’s DNA?

I guess that’s the only answer my nosy ass gets tonight.

Safe to say, there’s no man in the picture, at least.

It shouldn’t feel like such a weird relief. I still can’t believe some mystery meat would just knock her up and scram.

She deserves better, and so does Arlo.

And maybe it’s the atmosphere speaking or maybe it’s just my little head taking control, but I can’t help feeling like life has dealt her a shitty, lonely hand.

“Do you want some wine?” she asks. “I have half a bottle open and it needs drinking. Nothing fancy, but it’s not bargain stuff either.”

It would be a mistake to say yes.

“Sounds great,” I tell her.

She pours us both a glass in no time. When she sits back down, she’s even closer to me on the sofa. Almost like she’s trying to make holding on to what little self-control I have left a little harder.

“Sorry it’s not the expensive stuff I’m sure you like,” she says as I take a sip. “I probably shouldn’t have bothered—I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Hey. Hey, stop.” I hold the glass up in a toast. “I’m not the snob you think I am. Wine’s wine, it’ll get you drunk just the same. I’m more of a cocktail man, but tonight, I don’t give a damn. Drinking with you again has a certain charm. It takes me back to when we were younger and a whole lot luckier.”

I can’t help implying what else happened that night.

There are a lot of other things I could say about the memories my mind replays like a bad porno flick from the last time we drank together. But I’m pretty sure if I did, she’d throw that glass at me.

And I wouldn’t blame her one bit.

“Was it really six years ago? Where does the time go?” I ask instead, as close as I can get without telling her how just being this close douses me in flames.

“Maybe for you.” She swirls her glass, staring at the burgundy liquid. “For me, it’s been an eternity. Like another life. A lot’s happened.”

“Arlo?”

She looks up quickly and nods, sobered.

“You don’t seem that different from the night at the casino. Older and wiser, maybe, but just the same in all the important ways.”

A heavy second ticks by before she relaxes again. I think she’s decided to sit here and dive into everything we thought we’d left behind.

“We were drunk, Patton. Basically strangers then,” she tells me. “And you don’t like me much now that I’m buried in baggage. I’m definitely not the same girl you met then, but it’s kind of you to say it.”

“Not true, Lady Bug.”

Fuck. The name falls out of me before I can stop it.

She stares at me, horrified.

“…could you not call me that?” Her voice sharpens and she swallows hard, looking away like I’ll turn her to stone. “I mean, do I really look like I turned out so lucky?”

I don’t answer.

My muscle memory recalls bright lights and laughs and velvet on my dick. To me, she was Lady Luck made flesh once upon a fucked-up time, and the losing streak she’s had doesn’t change it.

All I can do now is hope she doesn’t look down and see how hard I am, assuming she doesn’t claw my face off first for stirring up bitter memories.

She looks down and her face heats, too soon to blame it on the wine.

When she looks at me intently, does she see how badly I want to kiss her?

Her tongue flashes out, moistening her lips.

Goddamn.

I’ve never wanted any woman this much in my life. It’s absurd that it’s her, the girl I’ve already had who’s become as off-limits as buried treasure.

Normally, my relations are brief outside the bedroom. I bring few women back for seconds or thirds, much less fall into relationships that mean a damn.

But somewhere along the way, destiny stopped caring.

Years later, here I am, still wanting the same woman with a hunger so intense it strangles me.

“I’m sorry fate hasn’t been kind to you. I can’t tell you what you are and what you’re not, but I can tell you this, Salem.” I pause until I’m holding her gaze. “I never regretted meeting you. Not once. Not even when you showed up at The Cardinal to give me hell. I never wished it didn’t happen.”

“You didn’t?” Heavy disbelief echoes in her voice.

“It was a good night. All of it. The gambling, the conversation.” And the hottest gravity defying sex of my life. I don’t dare say that, though. “Look, I’m not as stupid as I look. I know it’s made things complicated now, but hell—I was young and stupid. You were everything I needed that night. After you, I didn’t hook up that much, and when I did… well, fuck. It’s like I was always chasing the same high I only found once.”

Her face blanks.

Yes, I’m spilling my spaghetti in messy piles now.

Baring my heart and the unspoken truths I haven’t admitted even to myself. Because I don’t regret the hottest time I’ve ever spent with a woman, just like I don’t regret being here now on this disaster of a winter night with the dim lights that makes her eyes look dark and her lips delectable.

I want to be a stupid man tonight.

I want to kiss her into oblivion.

I want to own her.

I want her ruined until she’s mine again.

And hell, kissing won’t scratch this itch that’s gone soul deep.

Not when I want to taste every part of her and press her into this worn sofa.

Not when I want her teeth in my hand, biting down as one ruthless thrust after the next rips an orgasm out of her.

Not when I could make her scream my name this time, when she never knew it before.

“Things were simpler back then, I’ll give you that,” she whispers, setting her glass down. I notice she’s finished already. I didn’t even notice her drinking much and I wonder if she just threw it back in a single gulp. “I miss it sometimes. Not that I’d trade Arlo for the past.”

“Same,” I confess. “Even six years ago, things were different for me. Less complicated.”

“But you were always rich. You were successful, or close enough, right?” Her shoulders tense as she shifts to face me, tucking her legs under her. “Do you know how many times I dreamed about having your kind of success? Everything you’ve achieved, it’s amazing.”

“It came with a lot of sacrifice. There hasn’t been much of a life outside work, but it’s the life we chose, me and my brothers. My old man could’ve done something like this if he’d wanted, but he chose family instead. There are times when I wonder who was smarter.”

Oddly, his death gave us the kick in the ass we needed to get serious about living and carving out our piece of the Kansas City pie that has the Rory name on it. Not just a piece of a long ancestral shadow we think we’re entitled to by events almost a century ago.

“You talk like it’s too late for you. You can throttle back on work, can’t you?”

Salem’s brows pull together as she searches my face.

I shrug, finishing my wine.

“Don’t you want a family of your own someday?”

What a loaded fucking question.

“Someday,” I repeat. I don’t think it’s a lie. “Up until recently, it was hard to imagine. Seeing Dexter and his wife so happy, and Archer with my nephew growing up—yeah, I wouldn’t mind that, I think.” Although the future feels murky as hell right now. I can’t see what it might hold for me, or even if I want it to hold anything at all. “This can’t be my life forever. For now, it’s everything.”

“You’re smart for pacing yourself. That’s where I go wrong.” She unhooks a lock of hair from behind her ear and runs her fingers through it.

Yes, it’s still my undoing.

Before any reasonable part of my brain tells me no, I’m moving, reaching out and tilting her face to mine.

I don’t ask. Not with words. Not when her eyes widen, shining into mine.

Not even when she gasps.

I kiss her like a drowning man who needs to taste her just to keep breathing.

And she kisses me back, pushing a startled moan into my mouth that I drink greedily.

After a hot second, when my kiss is still a question, her answer sends fire through my blood.

Here, there’s only Salem Hopper, with her honey-sweet mouth and her nimble little hands that slide through my hair, the curve of her hips and long legs made for sin.

Salem, with her tongue that meets mine with shared madness, fluttering with need.

Salem, who pulls me closer until our bodies tangle up in a memory and a moment that breaks time.

It’s been years, but it’s the same reckless wildfire.

She stokes the flames so good with every gasp, every touch from her wandering hands.

I grab her, haul her on my lap, and she settles there with a giggle.

Her lips curve under mine as she strokes my neck. Her fingers push under my sweater to find skin.

Fuck me, she feels divine.

I shift my hips and she wiggles across me, stealing a groan from my throat.

If there weren’t so many layers between us, I’d already have her stripped bare.

I’d have my tongue on her clit.

I’d make her come for me like she did that night before we—

“Mommy?”

Fuck!

The panic is almost comical.

Salem leaps off me with an impressive agility and throws herself back on the sofa with a thump.

“Um, yes, big guy?” she asks, desperately finger combing her hair. The hair tie she used before is nowhere to be seen. Maybe I pulled it off and didn’t notice.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Can I have a glass of water?” Arlo asks from behind us, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

He’s cuddling some oversized stuffed white penguin, chewing his thumb. He looks bleary and confused. I have no clue if he saw us.

Doesn’t matter.

I should not have fucking crossed that line.

I shouldn’t have complicated her life for a second time.

“I should go.” My words trip over themselves. “Thanks for the pizza and the wine, Salem. Arlo, you take care.”

She pauses in the kitchen and looks at me. Black pants, grey sweater pulled over a pink blouse. She’s a temptation and a curse, heaven-sent to make me sin.

“Sure,” she says bluntly after a second. Her voice is torn, her lips too red.

You did that, idiot.

How will she ever face you again?

“See you at work,” I tell her. Then I practically run from the apartment, slamming the door unintentionally hard on my way out. It’s still snowing outside and my car is half-buried. The cold wind feels like a blade in my throat.

Still, I’d walk home through the bone-stripping night if I could turn back time one hour. If I could’ve hauled my ass up and left when she sent Arlo to bed.

I never should’ve let us wind up alone.

I failed the test like the gigantic dumbass I am.

“Clown,” I mutter as I wipe the snow off the windshield and start the vehicle. “Fuck you, Patton Rory.”

I’m sure she’s saying the same thing right now a thousand different ways.

No wonder my brothers think I’m the hothead. The dumb one who never thinks anything through. The guy most likely to make bad decisions that blow us all up.

No fucking wonder.

Of all the mistakes I could’ve made, why did it have to be that trip down memory lane?

Why did I have to kiss Salem Hopper and make her life harder?