One Big Little Secret (The Rory Brothers #2)

FLASH FORWARD ONE LUCKY FAMILY （PATTON）

Years Later

“Purple honey, huh? This is what you’re doing with your life these days?” I turn the jar over in my hand with a sneer.

Archer flips me off.

“Fuck you, man,” he growls. “We worked our asses off to get this stuff sourced right and branded. Are you really going to shit on my wife’s work?”

I set the jar of odd, almost glowing honey down and hold up my hands. “Relax, bro. I wouldn’t dream of it. Honestly, it’s a nice touch. I think the happy couples who decide to get hitched here will love this stuff. Very generous to hook us up with your miracle honey.” I purse my lips and lean closer to his ear, whispering. “Does it really make your dick three times bigger and cure skin tags?”

“You really are an idiot.” Archer pushes me away. I make a big show of windmilling my arms and flop back against the railing.

We settle in to stare across the water. In just a few weeks, this old refurbished riverboat will be hosting its very first events with the most regal floating ballroom, bar, and dining hall to ever set sail on the Missouri River.

I put up the money as an angel investor, yeah, but how could I say no after my beautiful, whip-smart wife worked her soul out?

“She’s smarter than you. Don’t ever forget it. Wish I’d thought of this whole party boat thing,” Archer grumbles.

I give back an exaggerated yawn. “Tough talk from a guy with a woman who makes magic honey. Also, I’m convinced she’s the nicer one. More patient, more worldly, definitely more social and—”

“Enough,” he clips. “How about you shut your mouth and enjoy the view, Pat?”

For once, I can’t argue with his ornery ass.

If marriage made Dex and me softer, it hasn’t sanded down my oldest brother one bit, but I don’t have the heart to keep pulling his tail.

Not with a view this magnificent, the city glimmering in the background with summer all around us. The silver spires of Kansas City throw off so much light.

How did I get here again?

Married man. Father. And soon to be husband of the happiest wife on ever when we christen this floating baby with a bottle of champagne and launch her latest business.

The last pieces of life are sliding into place way too easy.

If anything, it’s hard to find time to slow down and enjoy the view. Every time I blink, my kids are a little older, their childhood slipping away as the days go by while we tour the future.

Blink again and I’ll see Arlo in college. Probably some expensive damn place just dripping prestige and flung far from home, honing his artistic muscles into lethal weapons.

I shouldn’t assume too much, though. He’s only heading into second grade.

And as for little Winter—fuck.

“Remember to breathe. Dex is going to give you more shit than I will if you come dragging in for his anniversary party looking like you did that time you went commando in Bahamas.”

“Never again.” I snort, slowly turning to look at him and straightening up. “Tell me, Arch, does it ever get easier with Colt? Thinking about the future, I mean?”

For a few heavy seconds, he’s quiet, leaning one big arm on the railing. Then he looks at me.

“Easier, no. The older they get, the more complicated your worries. You’ve got a lot of sleepless nights ahead, little brother.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “Here’s the good part—it fucking gets better. If you’re raising your kids right, they’ll learn. They’ll do you proud. And even when the time comes when you can’t do shit but stay up till sunrise worried sick, you’ll know they can hold their own. Colt got that from me. Keep going, and you’ll look like father of the year.”

That wins a smile that cuts across my face.

“Wow, thanks. When’s your parenting podcast dropping? Think I’d subscribe.”

Chuckling, he flips me off again. We start walking off the boat together, back to the dock.

There are actually days when I appreciate this giant asshole, especially when he reminds me I’m not alone in playing family man.

And with Archer’s advice still ringing in my ears, I speed home, feeling lighter than air.

“Patton, time to go!” Salem calls from downstairs.

I look down at Arlo, slouched in my chair in front of the aquarium.

He’s in the zone, razor-focused on sketching the octopus, which is oddly on full display today. My talented son takes advantage of the scene, working to get the perspective and shadowing of its legs right, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth in deep concentration.

“Keep going,” I whisper when he looks up. “You’re almost done, little man. Bring it home.”

Arlo frowns at his paper. “But I’ve got two more legs to go, Dad…”

His pencil flies across the page, desperately sketching. I ruffle his hair as I push myself to my feet to meet the soft pad of the approaching footsteps.

“I’ll hold her off. Finish up as fast as you can, okay?”

“Hmph.” He glances up at me and grins.

Damn.

The smile makes him seem older, too much like yours truly. Where the hell does the time go?

I never thought I’d miss the cheeky kid who caused a new crisis weekly so much, but eight years old is world of difference from five.

Arlo’s getting sensible for his age. Probably his mother’s influence.

Speak of the devil. I meet her in the doorway, positioning myself to block her view.

“Are you trying to break records today? You’re looking gorgeous,” I say, giving her the slow, lazy smile I know she can’t resist. “Thankfully, your date’s not half bad.”

“My date is flipping full of himself.” Laughing, she whacks me on the arm playfully.

I reach over to take Winter out of her arms and press a kiss to my baby daughter’s face. She’s such a bouncy little girl, but when she’s sleeping, she’s all cherub.

And she blinks at me now, her eyes wide and owlish. She’s got her mother’s eyes, thank God, and adorably soft dirty blonde hair. Salem is sure it’ll darken over time.

Apparently, Salem was almost blonde as a kid. But I secretly hope little Win never changes. The family could use a little color in its hair.

“Look what your mama’s saying about your old man,” I croon, winking at Salem. “I’m blaming you, peanut. You’re the whole reason my head’s gotten bigger than a boulder.

Salem’s mouth twitches into a smile, but she shakes her head, chasing it back. “Where’s Arlo? We’re going to be late!”

“Give him a minute. It’s a matter of octopus-related life or death,” I say, glancing back in the room. “Isn’t that right, Arlo?”

“Yeah! Death!” he yells back.

Salem wrinkles her nose. “What’s more important than showing up in time for Dex and Junie’s anniversary?”

“The octopus, for one. My brother making kissing faces can wait.” I love the way her face tightens into an amused frown. Time keeps aging her like a fine wine, and maybe Winter has given her a few wrinkles, but I love every single line.

“Patton, be serious.”

“Salem,” I mimic, “why?”

When I hear her annoyed sigh, I slide my free hand around her waist and pull her in for the close. Despite her irritation, she doesn’t fight my kiss.

Every bit of her melts under my lips, and soon I’m the clown who’s annoyed because I don’t want to stop.

Later, I promise silently. Later, when we’re alone, I will do bad things.

With Winter nestled between us, she doesn’t fully press against me, but she sighs against my mouth with a heat that says she knows.

“God, you can’t just do that every time you want to win an argument.”

“When it works so well? Would Batman give up his secret weapon? Maybe let Arlo weigh in on that one.” My thumb strokes her cheek as Winter wakes up with a giggle.

She grabs a tuft of Salem’s hair, pulling with silly baby strength.

It’s cute enough now, but if we don’t break that habit in another year or two, my wife will be on track for a wig.

“I’m ready when Arlo is,” I promise.

“We’re not having our schedule dictated by an octopus.” Huffing a breath, she reaches up and slides a hand behind my neck. “Grab him and get me to this party,” she breathes against my skin. “If you’re quick, I might make it up to you later.”

Oh, shit.

Desire ripples through me, just like she knew it would.

“You’re a cruel woman—and you’re lucky as all hell I trust you.”

“Are you guy being gross again?” Arlo demands, stomping up behind us.

Spell, broken.

Without missing a beat, he holds up his latest drawing and waves it impatiently. “I finished! Take a look. Thanks for buying time, Dad.”

He claps a hand over his mouth.

I smile sheepishly.

Salem glares at us, her mouth dropping. “You guys conspired to make us late to the party so you could draw the octopus?”

“But look at it this masterpiece” I say, twisting the paper so she can see more clearly.

Honestly, I don’t know how Arlo was bit by the art bug—my mother, maybe, because it’s sure not from me—but there’s no denying he’s got it in fucking boatloads.

It’s just a quick pencil sketch, but he’s nailed perspective, the lighting, everything. I’m sure there’s room for improvement, even if I don’t have an eye to see it, but in a few more months? A few years with the right teachers and plenty of time to practice?

My boy will put Leonardo da Vinci to shame.

“See? It’s worth letting Dex grumble at us for a few minutes,” I tell her.

“That’s the best part,” Arlo says with a disarming smile, “we can give it to Uncle Dex. As a present.”

I smile.

The kid knows exactly how to play his mother. Unlike his art chops and impressive maturity, I like to think he got that skill from me.

“Great idea, bud.” I pull him closer, giving Salem another peck on the lips for good measure. “Better get moving now, though, or we’ll be late enough for it to matter.”

“I hate you,” Salem hisses affectionately.

But there’s no hiding the smile curving her lips.

“Tell me that again later,” I mutter back.

Of course, I’m rewarded with a flash of glowing gold heat in her hot brown eyes. There’s no guarantee Winter will sleep tonight either, but usually we can steal away a few minutes for ourselves.

I thought a second kid would be a huge adjustment.

It hasn’t been half bad.

Guess I’ve caught on to this family gig naturally.

Our family.

I thread my fingers through hers, an unexpected bolt of emotion stabbing through me. We’ve spent a lot of time working, figuring out what a life together means, but right now, it feels like we’ve finally sorted it out.

“Patton?” Salem stops in the doorway, her dark hair edged with amber stripes in the sunlight. Her burgundy dress hugs her curves, laying flatter after Winter’s birth eight months ago, tempting my hands to roam.

I have to keep them on a tight leash.

Winter gurgles in her arms, drifting off to sleep again. On her other side, Arlo looks back at me with a frown. He’s a mini-me, growing into the lanky little beast he is, crowned with dark russet hair.

Shit, I don’t think I’ve ever loved my little tribe as hard as I do right now. The emotion hits so hard I have to blink at the hot, biting sensation in my eyes.

“You guys go on ahead,” I say, glad my voice stays steady. “I’m right behind you.”

Salem’s mouth quirks like she can sense every thought as she pulls little Winter up in her arms. Then she puts a hand on Arlo’s shoulder, ushering him along.

“Come on, sweetie,” she says, steering away. They disappear into the sunlight at the end of the hall.

After a few seconds where I’m just staring like a frozen moron, she comes back child-free. She probably strapped them in the car and parked on the driveway.

Her smile is soft and slow as she cups my face in her hands and looks at me.

“I know that look,” she says matter-of-factly, her thumbs smoothing over my cheekbones. “I feel it, too.”

I chuckle deeply, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer.

This weird need to have her close, to taste her, overwhelms me.

No, I can’t bring myself to give a damn about the time.

“I love you, Lady Bug,” I tell her fiercely. “Goddamn, I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Reaching up, she presses her mouth to mine, and my hands slide down her waist. When she pulls away, her eyes are lined with moisture, too. Fucking emotions. “Now can you make your legs work? Your family’s waiting and Winter will freak if we leave her waiting too long.”

“Our family,” I correct, and her smile widens.

“Our family.”

It’s tempting as hell to stay here longer, but like any good wife, she’s right.

We start walking with Salem’s little hand tangled in mine.

When we step outside to the sunny driveway, I’m beaming so hard it might split my face in two.