One Big Little Secret (The Rory Brothers #2)

9. Blind Bet （Salem）

9

BLIND BET (SALEM)

O kay, I’ll admit it—I didn’t think Patton Rory had it in him to be nice.

Like, not sincerely nice-nice.

Not can-I-get-you-anything nice.

Not let-me-reassure-you-about-the-deal nice.

I mean, don’t get me wrong. He’s still a walking iceman with the smarmiest glint in his eye. But today, he’s been decent.

Maybe one of his nicer brothers crawled inside his skin suit and this Patton is an imposter, or he’s had a personality transplant.

At this point, it’s more believable than seeing Patton Rory behave like a normal human being.

Especially when his mom was so weirdly sweet, way more than I expected.

I basically imagined her to be an older version of him. Stuck up, optimized for inhuman good looks, and ready to mow you down in an instant with a nasty comment or two.

But she was genuinely kind. Friendly and generous.

Delly Rory made us feel at home even though I had no right being in that big old house with a kid who can be a handful and a half.

It almost hurts to wonder if it’s due to the natural bond, knowing she’s his grandmother.

That still eats at me as I stand on top of the hill, watching as Arlo skids down to the bottom on his sled.

When he tumbles off it at the end and looks back at me for approval, I wave.

“Careful, dude! You have to hold on tight until it stops.”

His face lights up as he runs back up to me, his boots sinking in the snow and the sled bouncing behind him as he pulls it by the rope.

Somewhere behind us, Patton waits in his car like the snow-allergic Scrooge he is. However nice he was earlier, he’s gone back to being a turbo workaholic, if he isn’t just avoiding us.

I seriously doubt he has emails to finish.

He’s probably looking at his fat investment portfolio or streaming porn, waiting for us to hurry it up so he can drive us home. At this point, I’ll be pleasantly surprised if he doesn’t just call a cab.

Confusing.

At least when I hated him, I knew where we stood.

But I’m breathing too fast, I realize.

And I plaster on a smile as Arlo returns to my side. A few new flakes of snow drift down on us, settling on his coppery curls and the tip of his nose.

“That was so cool!” he yells.

“Glad to hear it. We don’t get this kind of snow enough so late in the season.”

“Your turn, Mommy.”

“Hmmm.” I hesitate. “Only if you come with me.”

Beaming, he clambers on the sled. I send Patton a quick glance before I hunch down on the back of it.

He hasn’t left the car once. He’s just sitting behind the wheel, glued to his stupid phone.

Eh, maybe he really is working. He’s that much of a control freak.

Sometime between our one-night stand and whatever this is now, the man lost any sense of work-life balance.

“Mommy!” Arlo sits between my legs and taps my knee. “Mommy, let’s go!”

I squeeze my feet onto the sled and push off.

We rock gently for a moment before the sled dips and goes skidding down the hill.

Arlo screams happily, clutching at my leg for grip.

I’m caught off guard by how fast it is.

A second later, I’m squealing and losing my hat.

It flies off behind me before I can clamp it down on my head. But we’re going too fast and there’s nothing we can do now but hold on.

Soon, we veer off course and the ground levels out, slowing us down slightly before we plow into the piled snow at the bottom, laughing like crazy.

“Mommy, your hair’s a mess!” Arlo pushes my mess of hair off my face and plants a huge kiss on my cheek.

“You know what?” I pull off his hat and ruffle his hair aggressively. “Now we match!”

He howls, grabbing for his hat and pulling it down over his ears.

These are the little moments every mother lives for , I think, leaning back on the sled and looking at the iron-grey clouds above, still sending small flakes spiraling down.

Sitting next to Arlo, I point up. “Check out that cloud. Looks like a polar bear, I think.”

“Mom, that’s a rabbit.” He gives me a look of disdain only a five-year-old cloud expert can manage.

“Really? Then where are the ears?”

“Right there, Mommy. Look!” He jabs his mitten at the sky.

“Well, maybe if you squint really, really hard…”

He huffs impatiently.

My smile fades.

Now, every time I look at him, I just see Patton’s dark-brown hair—coppery in the sunlight—and the same sharp blue eyes all the Rory brothers inherited.

Does Grumpybutt himself ever notice the resemblance?

I wonder.

If he has, I’m sure he’s in denial.

Then again, it’s almost worse if the idea never enters his head. What if he thinks I’m just some skank who sleeps around, and he was one more fling in a long line of blue-eyed boys that night on the boat?

You could always tell him, that nagging little voice in my head reminds me.

Yeah, I could.

That might fix the violent guilt that’s eating me to the bone.

But I could also throw myself off a bridge into the freezing Missouri River, and it would probably be easier than dealing with Patton becoming my official baby daddy.

Ugh.

“I wanna go again!” Arlo announces, bouncing up. “And we gotta get your hat.”

Retrieving my hat isn’t as easy as it seems.

Somehow, it wound up stuck in a very big tree on one of its lower branches.

I stand on my tiptoes, but that doesn’t do much good. Next, I try to pile up some snow and pack it down so I can reach for the tree’s flimsy branches.

“Lemme! I’ll get it,” Arlo says, jumping excitedly.

“You stay, big guy. This one’s a mommy job.” One firm glance silences him.

I’m dead set on us having one nice day that doesn’t end in tears or a broken arm.

Eventually, I snatch it off the branch and toss it at Arlo, who catches it and runs around in a circle like it’s the big prize.

“It’s got snow inside,” he informs me when I make my way back down. “Watch out or it’ll be wet.”

I put it on my head anyway and shudder as his warning comes true.

“Well, it’s back where it belongs now.” I take his gloved hand and we walk back up to the top of the hill together.

For a second, it’s like the world keeps shrinking.

Here, there’s just Arlo and me, laughing and having fun with no worries beyond the winter chill. Like everything just clicked in place for one brief happy moment.

Then I glance up and see him.

Patton damn Rory.

He’s left the car now and he’s standing in his thick navy-blue trench coat, his arms folded, watching us like the real-life Grinch he is.

Talk about killing the vibes.

But as we get closer, I wave at him anyway, beckoning him over to join us.

Seriously, what happened to the carefree guy I hooked up with years ago? Did he ever exist?

Or was I so drunk I completely misread him that night at the casino?

I’m still wondering when Arlo flings himself at Patton the second he sees him approaching.

“Mr. Rory!” He remembers his manners today.

Good.

It’s progress that he doesn’t instantly go with Grumpybutt .

“Come sledding with us. Have fun.”

“Sledding?” Patton’s gaze flicks to me and I prepare myself for the inevitable dismissal. He’s too busy, too important, too boring to relinquish his dignity for playing around in the snow.

“Yes.” Arlo takes Patton’s hand and tugs. “You go so fast and you get to do it over and over. Right, Mommy?”

“We’ve had a lot of fun, yes.” Melted snow drips down the back of my neck from my hat and I shiver. “But don’t bother him, honey.”

“It’s fine,” Patton says, grabbing the sled from Arlo and positioning it at the top of the run. He puts one foot on it.

I have to rub my eyes as he looks at my son and asks, “So I do it like this, munchkin?”

What. Am. I. Seeing.

Patton, sprouting an actual sense of humor, partaking in something that isn’t money driven?

“No!” Arlo giggles, his face flushed with excitement. “You gotta sit on it or you’ll go snow surfing and then you’ll fall on your face.”

“Silly me. I thought it felt flimsier than the snowboards I remember when I was a kid.” His eyes find mine.

I die a little right there, imagining him as a teenage punk with a snowboard tucked under one arm.

Maybe that’s why he’s doing this.

The nostalgia bug must’ve bit him.

“Like this, then?” Patton watches Arlo as he sits.

I guess it’s my turn to feel the nostalgia bug’s teeth. For a heartbeat, he looks just like the man I met that night my life changed, and it feels like six years haven’t passed us by.

But I turn away before more incriminating thoughts eat me up—like how devilishly good he looks when he smiles with that obscene blue light in his eyes.

It’s so much more lively and attractive than the brass tacks beast he is at the office.

“Hmm, I think I’m still missing something.” Patton gently grabs Arlo, pulling him onto the front of the sled and wrapping an arm protectively around him.

He glances at me, a silent promise that he won’t let anyone get hurt.

As soon as I nod, they’re gone.

Crazy fast.

Faster than I went with Arlo, whipping down the hill like a rocket.

Maybe it’s the extra weight, or maybe it’s the way Patton leans forward, adjusting their center of balance with a wild grin etched on his face.

Either way, my chest tightens until my heart might break with mixed emotions.

Bittersweet confusion, a potent blend I don’t know how to deal with, much less digest.

Why’d he have to go and pick today of all days to be a decent man? When Arlo’s around, when he’s with his son ?

Also, the same day his son just spent the morning with his flipping grandmother.

It’s like the universe schemed up a secret family day out, only no one knows it but me.

And that dagger of terrible knowledge in my heart plunges deeper.

My nose stings. Hot tears crowd my eyes that have nothing to do with my frozen cheeks.

As soon as the sled reaches the bottom and they stagger off it, Arlo scrambles to his feet and runs back up the hill to me, leaving Patton to haul the sled up to the top again.

“Mommy! Mommy!” Arlo gasps with the widest grin I’ve ever seen. “Did you see that? We went faster than a race car. Vroom! ”

“Sure did, sweetie. Why don’t you catch your breath?”

“He said he needed me to hang on and he’d hold me like a seat belt.” He makes a face and reaches up on his tiptoes as I lean down to hear him. Even though Patton is far enough away, he couldn’t hear even if he tried. “I didn’t have to. He just didn’t want you to worry.”

My face heats.

Why on God’s green Earth is Patton being so nice to me that even my little boy notices?

“Oh, yeah? And what would’ve happened if you’d fallen off, big guy?”

“I wasn’t gonna!” he says dismissively.

“Sure.” I glance up as Patton arrives. “Thanks for taking him down, Patton. He really enjoyed that.”

“It’s been a while,” he says with a nod. “I used to come here a lot as a kid.”

“Snowboarding?” I laugh before I can help myself. “I can’t imagine your mom sledding down the hill.”

“Nah, she stayed at home. I didn’t hit the board until I was older. When I was little, my dad took us.” There’s a trace of sadness in his voice, but he hands Arlo the rope. “You ready to go again?”

“Yeah!” There’s no lack of enthusiasm on Arlo’s face. “We should have more sleds. Then you and Mommy could go.”

“I’m okay, sweetie,” I say, waving them on. “I don’t mind watching. I’m having plenty of fun.”

“Boring.” Arlo wrinkles his nose.

“Why don’t you go on ahead this next round,” Patton says. “I’ll keep your mom company.”

You don’t need to do that .

On the other hand, seeing him with Arlo a second time might be worse for my tangled bird’s nest of a heart, currently wallowing in what-ifs and missed opportunities.

“Okay!” Arlo sits on the sled and Patton gives him a friendly push.

He screams his lungs out as he flies downhill, his small voice fading as he goes.

“I mean it,” I say, folding my arms tighter against the cold. “Thank you again.”

Patton sends me a wry, amused glance.

The glint in his eyes says he sees more than he should, more than I want him to. “Are you still the same manager who nearly threw me out of her office a few days ago?”

I’m thankful the hat and damp hair hanging around my face hides some of my blush. “Maybe if you weren’t so rude then, I wouldn’t have told you to get out.”

“Touché.” He looks back down the hill just as Arlo reaches the bottom. “I shouldn’t have come at you so hard.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

“For the record, I’m sorry.” There’s a strange softness to his voice I can’t quite quantify.

Reluctance, maybe, for having to be in this position. Hesitation for having to apologize. Uncertainty over the fact that he’s standing here in the cold watching my son.

Our son.

Oh, God, there goes my weepy brain again.

“It’s fine.” I look away before my face betrays how not fine it really is.

“Salem?”

Don’t do this. Please.

“Honestly, Patton. Don’t worry about whatever happened before…”

“I wasn’t,” he says. The sound of his voice makes me glance up at him.

Maybe the strangeness in his tone isn’t regret after all, because now he looks like he’s about to laugh.

Patton Rory, laughing, alive and carefree.

Today is a modern miracle.

“I’m starting to think you protest too much.”

“Okay, Shakespeare.” Smiling, I adjust my stance, moving my feet so they don’t get too cold.

He chuckles. “That’s the first time anyone ever called me Shakespeare.”

“Which one of your brothers is better with words?”

He considers it before shaking his head. “I’m it. Wordsmith extraordinaire.”

“Okay, boss. Whatever you say.” I try not to hide my disbelief.

Patton grumbles and shoves his hands in his pockets.

That wins him a laugh.

“Something else Archer beats me at, huh?” he mutters. “What did you say to him, anyway?”

“What?”

“To make you both laugh like deranged hyenas.”

I think back to the one time Archer and I met and he laughed—the time Patton walked in with a face like thunder, all Zeus glaring at me with brutal disapproval.

“Honestly, I can’t remember. It wasn’t that funny.” My face grows hotter under the hat. It’s so damp I’ve had enough, and I pull it from my head and shake my hair out. “Probably shouldn’t have dropped my hat, it’s soaking my hair.”

“Salem—”

“Mommy, did you see? Did you see?” Arlo pants as he joins us again. He’s losing his hat too so I tuck it back on over his ears. “I went so far this time!”

“I know, sweetie. I was watching. Do you think you can go faster again?”

“Yeah!” His movements are more sluggish as he clambers back on the sled.

I can tell he’s getting tired, even though his determination outweighs any cry for rest from his little body. I give him a push and he whoops as he flies down again. We’ve made our own track in the snow, and his sled falls into its biggest grooves.

“You didn’t answer the question,” Patton says. “About Archer.”

“Dude, it’s not a big deal.” Kind of a lie, but never mind.

“So why are you avoiding it?”

I sigh, folding my arms and facing him, knowing my hair’s a rat’s nest and I have a red nose worthy of Rudolph. Do we really have to ruin this?

Because if I tell him, I’ll make a confession he’ll despise me for. Again.

“You really want to know? Archer asked how we were getting along. I told him how Arlo drew you as Grumpybutt and you were pretty unhinged over it.”

“Unhinged?” He glowers.

“Yeah, and your brother laughed. Because apparently the idea of me messing up so bad on my very first day was hilarious—and so was the thought of you getting pissy over a kid’s drawing.”

I half expect him to go off.

To explode at me again—to rake me over the coals for being unprofessional, which would be kind of deserved here—but he just blinks at me and inhales slowly.

“That would explain it. Arch never misses a chance to see me eat shit,” he says.

“…so you’re not mad?”

He glances at me and smiles.

“I’m over it, Salem. Let’s just say we got off on the wrong foot and move on.” He pulls off his glove then, offering me his hand.

Whoa.

I take it gingerly, ignoring that little pop of static between us.

Of course, it’s a strong hand, thick and accustomed to doing harder labor than just working in an office.

Hands tell stories, but I don’t know what his are keeping. Or what, as I pull off my glove, he can read in mine.

“Truce?” he asks, wrapping his fingers around mine. The tip of one finger reaches my inner wrist.

It shouldn’t feel so intimate, but it does.

He’s living proof that calloused hands can be sexier than they have any business being. Annoying.

“Truce,” I echo, giving his hand two pumps before dropping it and fumbling for my glove.

At the bottom of the hill, Arlo makes the long climb back up, huffing and puffing like a little bear this time.

“I used to love coming here,” Patton says with that wistful note in his voice again. “It was one of my favorite memories as a kid.”

“That’s why we’re here today. I wanted to make some good memories for Arlo, and there won’t be much winter left after this storm,” I say before I can help myself. I’m telling him too much. “I also work too much to get out.”

“Looks like he’s having fun to me. Mission accomplished.”

The observation makes my throat clench.

“Yeah,” I say roughly before Patton can comment. “I think he is, and you’re a big part of that today.”

“That was awesome, Mommy. I went a hundred miles an hour!” Arlo puffs out when he reaches us. He looks between us before settling on Patton. “Sled with me again, Mr. Rory.”

“Arlo, you’ve been at it for a while. And what’s the magic word?”

“Please.” He scowls but mumbles it.

“Okay, little man. One more round,” Patton says. “Last one, though. My feet are turning into frozen meat.”

Same here, but he’s definitely taking the worst of it in those dress shoes since he didn’t bring boots. And I wonder if he notices the way I’m shuffling around to make sure I can still get warm blood in my toes.

There’s a lump in my throat as I watch Patton climb in behind Arlo and they take off.

They go blasting down the hill together, just like before.

Patton throws one hand up in the air like he’s on a roller coaster.

Halfway down, they start losing their balance.

At first it’s just a wobble. A twitch.

But after a few more feet, they’re slamming into the snow.

For a second, I’m worried.

But then I hear Arlo laughing hysterically. Patton’s deep chuckle fills the air along with him. He’s holding my boy, narrowly preventing him from faceplanting into the snow.

Hello, core memory.

I’m sad that I’m the only one who knows just how special it really is.

And it’s the proof I’ve been dreading. Patton Rory can handle a child, and that means he can be a dad.

You need to tell him .

Not right away, but sooner or later, he should know.

The thought makes me queasy.

Still, can’t ignore it as they walk back up the hill toward me, Patton dragging the sled behind him. I can’t unsee what I’m looking at now.

Father and son.

Together and happy.

Spending quality time together like it’s normal for the first time in their lives.

Like they already know, at some basic instinctive level, which makes me feel like even more of a shitty villain.

My throat hurts.

“I think he’s had enough. We should go warm up,” Patton tells him when they reach the top of the hill. “You ready, little man?”

“ Moooom. ” Arlo tugs at my hand. “Do we have to?”

“If Patton says it’s time to break, then yes, it’s time.” And I want to leave just as much as I want to stay. Talk about difficult.

“There’s cocoa waiting in the car. The good stuff from my mother,” Patton says, and Arlo sprints off at top speed.

His enthusiasm for the snow is only rivaled by his chocolate addiction.

I head back to the SUV stubbornly even though it feels like Patton wants to say something else. The steel wool lodged in my throat probably makes my face look weird, and I don’t want him asking why.

Then there’s no hiding the tears.

“Hey,” Patton says, surprisingly gentle. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little frozen.”

“Me?” My voice cracks. “Oh, no, I’m good. This wind just sucks, it makes my eyes water after a while. Totally the cold. Guess I’m more sensitive than I thought.” Yes, I’m babbling, but I don’t know how to stop. “It’s nothing to worry about. Ask anyone and they’ll tell you—”

When the world starts tilting, I don’t have time to gasp.

My heel skids on an ice patch and I’m spinning.

There’s just a second of panic, my arms windmilling, a squawking noise leaving my mouth.

Patton catches my arm right before I hit the ground and heaves me into him.

Into his arms.

I hold on before I can think what I’m doing, before my brain catches up.

Before I even realize I’m clutching Patton’s strong shoulders and his hands are on my waist, holding me steady.

Holy hell.

This whole thing would be easier if he didn’t feel so solid and warm under my fingers.

If his face wasn’t so close.

If his eyes weren’t so bright.

Our foaming breath swirls between us in the messiest moment of my adult life.

I’m hot and cold and winded.

So is he.

There’s a red patch on his cheeks, probably from the scouring wind, which has really picked up in the last few minutes.

Yes, the wind, I decide. It must be.

That’s the safest explanation. Because if it has anything to do with the fact that we’re still holding each other tight, or the fact that I don’t want to let go—

We are screwed.

These thoughts alone are beyond dangerous.

But his breath spirals against my lips and the only thing I can hear is my heart thudding as Patton stares at me. His tongue runs over his lips for a second.

Breathe, Salem.

Oh my God, breathe.

My breath catches.

For one glorious heartbeat I think he might do something crazy like kiss me until I melt through the snow.

It’s been so long, but I remember how it felt. The heady desire, coming in waves, heat blooming through every nerve.

From the way his eyes ignite, like the sun catching summer waves in scintillating shimmers, he remembers too.

How do we even begin to deal with that?

“Mommy, what’s for dinner?” Arlo cuts in, and Patton releases me so fast I almost lose my balance for a second time.

“Oh.” If I once had sane thoughts, I’m not sure where they went. “I don’t know, sweetie. I’ll look when we get home.”

“Can we do pizza?”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Awwww.” He pouts. “That means no.”

“I know a great pizza place,” Patton says. “I’d be happy to take you. My treat.”

Good thing, too, because I know what sorts of places he likes if the coffee shop is any indication. High-end places that run a wine tab that costs more than my rent .

“I appreciate the offer,” I say, trying to force a smile, “but Arlo’s been spoiled enough for one day. Honestly, so have I.”

“Aw, Mom!” Arlo juts out his bottom lip.

“Maybe next time,” Patton says.

I don’t meet his gaze again.

It’s just easier.

“I’ll have the notes from Evelyn back to you by Monday,” I say. “Plus, more data from The Cardinal surveys. If you’d like, I can get a start on researching the northern Minnesota markets…”

“As long as it doesn’t ruin your weekend.” He nods, accepting the shift back to work. “I appreciate it, Salem.”

“Mr. Rory?” Arlo says. “Can we have chocolate now?”

“Sure, kid.” Patton gives Arlo a smile and opens the car door. A burst of glorious heat greets us. Like any decent newer vehicle, he was able to remote start the heater. “But we have to drink it outside, okay? Those seats hate sticky stuff.”

I accept my cup gratefully after Patton pours one for each of us. I sip slowly as I listen to Patton and Arlo talking about superheroes.

Nice Patton came with his best game today.

If only I could decide if Nice Patton is really worse than Grumpybutt.

Patton catches my eye and smiles while Arlo continues a long lecture on the virtues of Spider-Man, who had it rough from the start because he was bitten by a spider.

Yep.

Nice Patton is definitely worse.

At least with boss Grumpybutt, I know where I stand, even if the view sucks and the service is rotten.

Nice Patton, he’s infinitely scarier.

Dealing with him is a blind bet on the unknown.

Everything I’ve been running away from ever since the day little Arlo was born.