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

Kansas City feels new and bewildering a week after our return.

My old routine, forever shattered.

Sure, Salem still lives at home with Arlo, who remains oblivious to the entire thing. I take them out on weekends and drop by often, even when she’s not expecting me.

It’s almost hard to process.

This need to see my woman, my son—fuck, my son—just to know they’re alive and well and thriving.

What’s harder is keeping a lid on my urge to march them out of that beat-up shoebox apartment and into my home that’s ten times larger.

Too fast, I know.

This shit takes time.

The trouble is, time has fucked me over enough, thieving away years when I should’ve been in their lives.

Then there are the evenings when she’s free, an hour or so before leaving the office, where I lock the door and throw her against the wall.

My hands, my mouth, they take.

They lay down the law.

My teeth catch her bottom lip while she moans delight into my mouth, my fingers working rough, brisk orgasms out of her clit.

I need to be inside her very soon.

Especially when it’s goddamned impossible to keep my hands off her, though she stops short of letting me sweep everything off her desk and bend her over it. Always the same excuse.

“What if someone hears? The cleaners?” she whispers, like I couldn’t snap my fingers and make them hold off on making the rounds with some contrived excuse.

Instead, we wait for the weekends, those rare slivers of time carved out between our busy lives when I can finally turn into a sheet-ripping animal.

Waiting for pussy this good is driving me mad.

I’m not used to anticipation.

Hell, I’m not used to any of this.

Usually, when I’m into a girl, I can bed her at will and I’m done in a matter of weeks, after I’ve worked it out of my system.

But Salem broke the old, familiar pattern.

She’s broken me.

Yet the sex just keeps getting better as I learn her body and she explores mine.

Yesterday, before I could shove her panties aside and go to work, she dropped down and started opening my trousers.

I’ve never been more awestruck in my life, watching her hazel eyes flashing pure lust as her velvet lips engulfed my cock.

She has a few surprises, like taking me down her throat, so eager she gladly choked on my last round of thrusts.

And she still didn’t stop, not until I exploded, fighting and failing to swallow my come before it poured out of her mouth, staining her collar.

This is the part where I make a fist and hit myself.

Instead, I rub my eyes, trying to focus on the mundane revenue projections in front of me.

It’s only midday, too early to wonder if this is the day she’ll leave this office leaking my come.

Any second now, Archer and Dex will show up for a meeting about the Minnesota expansion scheme. With any luck, Salem will come, too.

I dropped by The Cardinal this morning to suggest she attend.

Not because I’m hopelessly obsessed.

We agreed we weren’t cut out for secrets. The sooner we fess up, the better, and there’s no time like the present to assess what my brothers will really think of her being more than our star talent.

In a burst of madness, I suggested we figure out what this is soon, so we won’t have to manage these secrets for long.

So now I’m due for another dinner where I’ll watch Arlo, noticing all the little things I never caught before. He’s inherited my hair and my eyes and my focus. Sure, it’s all invested in drawing right now, but I used to be like him as a kid.

Razor-sharp. Always bouncing from one thing to the next. How the fuck did I miss it?

A handful, that’s what Mom called me. And Arlo, he’s growing up just like me despite the fact that I haven’t raised him.

Genetics are crazy.

Mrs. Potter, our receptionist who’s pushing sixty and also one of the most organized people I know, pops her head through the door.

“Archer called to say he’d be late,” she tells me. “And Dexter should be here any second. I’m just heading out and thought I’d let you know since it’s my half day.”

I wave at her and check my phone just as it vibrates with a message from Salem.

Running late and traffic sucks but I’ll be there.

I shuffle in my seat, trying not to fixate on her and failing for the dozenth time today, until Dexter finally shows up with a scowl.

“I figured I’d be late, coming from the bakery,” he said. “One bad bout of freezing rain and every road in this city goes to shit.”

“You are late, Dex, freezing rain aside.”

“Whatever. I thought I’d be the last one in.”

“Everyone else is flakier than you today, I guess,” I say, watching as he sits down and checks the time on his phone like the OCD control freak he is.

Honestly, ever since he married Junie, his timekeeping has gotten worse—but at least he’s also started apologizing like a real human.

Apparently, you can teach a grumpy old dog new tricks.

“Where’s Archer?” I ask.

“Think he had to deal with some school thing for Colt,” Dexter says.

My phone lights up with another message from Salem to let me know she’s halfway here.

“Who’s that? Someone special?” Dexter asks, nodding at the phone. “Have you finally met a girl who doesn’t want to stab you with a pen after two days?”

“I meet a lot of girls, Dex. The benefits of not being strapped down with that prison badge.” I nod at the wedding band on his hand, inwardly laughing at what a lying asshole I am.

I’m a father now, and by some insane twist of fate, I want to be strapped down more.

“Maybe so, you prick, but most of them don’t make you look at your phone like that.”

“Like what?” I shrug, feigning ignorance as my face heats.

“That smile. Trust me, I know the one.”

Of course he does, the smarmy bastard.

“Junie pregnant yet?” I ask to deflect attention.

“We’re not trying. I told you. Not yet.”

“You’re letting Mom down. She wants that second grandkid bad.”

He snorts. “You’d better give her one, then.”

My shit-eating grin disappears, and I say nothing. If only he knew how close to the truth he is.

Then the door flies open and Archer arrives in a boiling fury.

“Fucking. Traffic,” he spits. “It’s bad enough that Colt brought live fireworks to school and the principal called me in.”

“Oh, shit. Don’t tell me they suspended him?” I chuckle.

“No, thank God. He’s a good kid, so they let him off with a warning. He’s just oblivious. He thought he’d pull the gunpowder out of it for a rocket without talking to his science teacher first.”

“Collllt.” I shake my head, trying not to laugh. This kid will either wind up as a crazy artist or a mad scientist. I can’t guess which but it’s sure to be interesting.

Flashes of my own future punch me in the face then. Everything a dad has to deal with the older their kid gets.

I’m so fucking unprepared it’s laughable.

“Anyway, we’re just waiting on Salem now,” I say.

“Oh?” Dexter raises his eyebrows at Archer. “I didn’t know we were expecting Miss Hopper.”

“You don’t know everything, Dex. She’s done a lot of research.” I lean back in my chair, enjoying the feel of weightlessness. There’s a certain balance you can find if you really try and it’s always been oddly relaxing.

“Wait, you’ve had her working on this and The Cardinal?” Archer spits. “You’d better not be burning her out.”

“You’ll see when she gets here,” I throw back.

Thankfully, we don’t have to wait long.

Salem knocks cheerfully and walks in a minute or two later, her tan coat neatly tied around her waist and her hair pinned perfectly in place. I’m betting she stopped off in the bathroom to make sure she looked extra presentable instead of running right in.

That’s professionalism. A few extra seconds spent on optics can make all the difference, and she knows it.

But all the professionalism in the world can’t stop the fact that I know what she looks like under those clothes.

She narrows her eyes at me like she can read my filthy mind.

“Sorry I’m late, Patton,” she says, taking a seat. “Hi, guys.”

“Let’s get started,” I say. “I want to express a few concerns about the Minnesota properties. Salem?”

“So I looked into the properties we have our eyes on. Evelyn’s financials finally came back,” she says, passing out papers with her printed notes. “One has a hefty credit line out on it. I commissioned some photos from the inspection, which you can see here.”

Dexter peers at the photos and his face turns white. “What the hell? She said they were fixer-uppers, yeah, but this looks decrepit.”

“Practically derelict,” Archer agrees.

Dex throws the photos back on the table. “Christ. She suggested we’d need a few updates, not a complete overhaul.”

“The renovations will be more extensive than Evelyn suggested,” I say. “And it might be a full year or two before they’re ready to be anything other than a money pit.”

“So, what? You’re on board with backing out?” Archer asks gruffly.

“Not so fast, I’m just talking facts.” Although I’m torn over whether these properties are truly worth it. “There’s something else, too. Mom mentioned that she gets the sense Evelyn is under some kind of stress—money trouble, probably.”

“Shit. Not surprising if she’s got these beasts pulling her down,” Dexter grumbles. He looks at me and I know he’s already figured out what Mom suggested. “She offered to help her, didn’t she?”

“I told her no. This is purely business and she can’t get in the middle of it.”

Archer leans back thoughtfully, his eyes dark.

“Aw, hell. Normally, I wouldn’t suggest mixing business and friendship, but… it’s Evelyn.” He sighs and rakes a hand through his hair—a familiar tell that he’s about to make a concession. “Maybe we should consider giving her those upfront payments. The land alone is appreciating rapidly, even if the cabins will need some serious money.”

“Maybe,” Dexter says slowly. “Based on market projections, of course.”

“Adjusted for inflation, Archer’s right,” Salem says. “But the market appears pretty volatile right now for vacation rentals in northern Minnesota. Conservative estimates might be smart.”

Archer nods. “Right. We want to keep her afloat without tying up too much capital.”

If you ask me, the photos scream money pit, even if they could still be profitable in the long run. But if Archer still wants to move ahead when he’s normally the most risk averse, I won’t be the guy who shoots it down.

Besides, Salem’s market research looks impeccable as always. There’s a gap for precisely what we’re offering with the affluent folks who want to live a Scandinavian style lake life without leaving the continent—a niche we could easily fill.

“Agreed.” I tap the table and let all four wheels of my chair hit the floor. “Fine. I’ll work out a payment schedule and run it by you guys. Enough to help Evelyn and renovate at least one pilot property we’ll target to launch before the year ends.”Belongs © to NôvelDrama.Org.

“Okay. And nice work, Salem,” Dexter says. “Those market reports were flawless. Couldn’t find any fault if I tried.”

No doubt his number-crunching, money freak ass did try, too.

Dexter loves looking for errors almost as much as he loves studying nutrition labels.

“They were solid,” Archer agrees. The tiniest jealousy bug bites the back of my neck when he smiles at her. “If you ever get sick of managing the day-to-day, we could use a full-time analyst here at headquarters.”

Fucker.

I knew it.

Salem smiles, and just like with Arch, I know what’s coming.

“Thanks,” she says, “but I wouldn’t make a good full-time number cruncher. I need to talk to people and move around to stay on my toes.”

Yes, she does.

Salem Hopper has bigger and better dreams than being cooped up in our office.

I’ve seen her researching charter boats and marina businesses on the side lately. It has me wondering what the future will bring with her career plans, just like so much else.

Not yet, though. It’s not my place to ask.

Not until we’ve figured out what we are—if we’re meant to be anything at all.

Why ruin a good thing when it’s barely begun?

For the first time since Utah, we have a date.

I race home early, meticulously cleaning up and agonizing over shirts in a way I haven’t done since my teens.

You know it’s catastrophic when a man puts this much energy into impressing a woman he’s already fucked.

The plan is for dinner and a movie at my place—their first visit here—but it feels like more than that.

My son is coming home.

My son and his mother, walking into my house as a family.

It’s strange as hell.

Stranger still that I’m a complete basket case over it.

I wipe the sweat off my brow, opening the door as they arrive, stuffing my phone back in my pocket after my security app alerted me they were coming.

Arlo stands on the front step wearing a dinosaur jacket, bouncing excitedly as he looks around.

“Wow!” he says, beaming up at me. “You really are Batman.”

I guess it is a big place.

Salem used the word obscene when she first looked up my place.

Like Dex, I prefer the term ‘quiet elegance.’ I also think if someone gets this close to your house, they might as well know you’re rich.

And Arlo hasn’t even seen the pool out back yet.

“I don’t think any hero has this much glass,” Salem says as I usher them both inside.

The hall opens into a large open great room. Modern stairs lead up to the balcony on the second floor and the massive sofa curves around the glass table in the center.

The way she looks around and stops on me tells me she’s noticed the fresh flowers I had delivered today, hoping to impress her.

Judging by that sly little smile, mission accomplished.

“Lemme see your bat cave,” Arlo insists, but his eyes are wide as he takes everything in.

“No cave here, but I do have an impressive fish tank. Come see.”

His eyes blow up to golf balls and he flies on ahead of us.

Why does my heart jerk?

He’s sincerely excited over my big house. The cavernous house that, deep down, I’d love to have someone else living in.

No, not just someone. Salem and Arlo.

“Arlo, no running!” Salem calls with a giggle.

I thought she’d be more tense here, walking into my lair, but she seems more relaxed than ever in a cream sweater and jeans.

I lead the way to my study and the enormous aquarium that takes up the entire wall.

The subtle lights above and below illuminate the waters even when it’s dark, mimicking a natural glow that won’t disturb the creatures inside.

Sometimes I sit and watch my little creation at night, when my head aches too much to work and I’m in a mood to ponder these alien lives separated by glass, yet so intertwined with mine.

“What? It’s like the zoo!” Arlo runs right up to the glass and smushes his nose against it. “This. Is. Awesome.”

He isn’t wrong.

The aquarium has won me admiration and a mountain of shit from my family ever since I had it installed. Especially when I had the octopus flown in from Seattle.

“I can’t believe you called it a ‘fish tank,’” Salem murmurs, sending me a smile when I glance at her. “Show Arlo the cuttlefish. He just read about them in his ocean book.”

“Cuttlefish! Where?” Arlo’s eyes bounce around excitedly.

“Up here, little man. Let me help you get a better look.” I lift him up and settle him on my shoulders. “Can you see them now?”

“Yeah! That one’s like a rainbow.” His little finger points.

“And you see the way it shines in the light?”

“Yeah!” He grins.

“They do that to communicate. Almost like sign language, but they use colors instead.”

I slow walk him along the glass so he can take it all in.

Salem trails behind us, happy to let me take the lead, almost as impressed with the show as her son.

Shit, my son.

My son is in my house.

My throat tightens ferociously and I swallow hard.

“More cuttlefish!” Arlo whispers excitedly, moving his finger around and counting them.

Colt used to do that a few years ago, even as an older kid. The animals are used to it, I think.

A bright-green fish floats closer to investigate, its mouth opening and closing, but Arlo’s eyes never waver from the tentacled creatures.

“Why don’t you tell us what you remember about cuttlefish?” Salem asks him.

“They change color! Um… and they have beaks like an octopus. They shoot ink too.”

Not half-bad for a five-year-old. I wonder about his memory, what else he can recall.

“I have an octopus, too,” I tell him.

“What? No way!”

“Way,” I whisper. “Let’s see if he’s out and not hiding.”

We walk along the tank and I point out different fish along the way.

Sure enough, I find the octopus tucked behind a rock with only one tiny curl of leg visible, but the seahorses are swimming around near us, curious as usual.

Arlo looks astonished.

“You know what’s interesting about seahorses?” I ask. “The males give birth. See there?” I point to a sac on the front of one seahorse. “That one’s full of babies.”

The boy’s eyes are almost as round as the sac. “But I thought only girls can have babies.”

“That’s what makes seahorses special.”

“I like the seahorse method. Way more fair,” Salem adds, flashing me a mischievous grin.

I shake my head, biting back a grin. I can’t imagine how this would be working out right now if our roles were switched.

“What about the other fish?” Arlo asks.

“Some lay eggs and some have live young, but the females work the hardest.” I give Salem a quick, repentant glance.

She touches the small of my back.

A tiny gesture, but it’s enough.

“You’re a good teacher. I’m surprised,” Salem says, “but don’t you guys want to watch a movie? I was thinking Spider-Man.”

The minute he hears that word, Arlo’s interest shifts.

He starts wiggling until I’m forced to put him down and he runs out of the room, stopping just short of skidding across the wood floor.

“Be careful!” Salem shouts again. The blue lights wash out her face, making her look pale. “I’m so sorry. He’s been giddy about this all day. He’s a lot to handle when he gets into his hyper puppy mode.”

“I know the feeling,” I say, surprising myself. “It’s nice as hell to spend time with him.”

“You mean when he’s not kicking you and ruining your clothes?” She laughs and leans up to offer a kiss.

I take her lips, parting them just enough to feel her breath as I slide a hand around her waist, then pull away before I can’t control myself.

“We should head downstairs before he finds us. No need to repeat that incident.” Before she starts moving, I lean in close to her ear. “Later, Salem. I’m going to break the bed with you tonight.”

I love the way she shivers, the movement accenting her ass in those apple bottom jeans as she speeds away, throwing me a devilish smile.

Is it bad that a small part of me wanted the kid to walk in while we’re kissing?

Then we could move past this.

Then he could understand, in his own little way, that I’m the guy with his mom and I’m not going anywhere.

For a second, I’m alone with the fish. The only light coming from the tank throws an eerie glow over my face.

So far, it’s almost too perfect. Only, behind that glass, there’s a stark reminder that chaos is always just a breath away, waiting to break through.

Sighing, I follow her downstairs.

They’ve already found my theater room with the huge screen and large leather seats that can swallow a person for days. The dark space still manages to look cozy.

They’re already perched on the longer sofa, sunk into the plush cushions.

“You have a lot of pillows for a single dude. So colorful too,” Salem watches me toss the extras on the floor as I take the seat beside her with Arlo curled up between us.

“My mom gives me another accent pillow every Christmas. It’s her thing,” I mutter. “Guess she thinks if she buries me alive, it’ll summon a wife from nowhere.”

Salem laughs loudly.

God, I love that sound.

I also wonder if my mother’s black magic worked, considering they’re here and we’re about to have our first family movie night.

The next look she gives me is lidded, more thoughtful, but I don’t let myself dwell on it as I start the movie. Arlo bounces up in his seat, impatiently tapping his thighs.

His excitement is short-lived, though.

We’re less than half an hour in when the exhaustion hits, and his eyelids start drooping. His little head drops against my side and he’s out cold.

That’s where he stays until after the credits roll and Salem’s fingers tighten in mine.

We share a silent, knowing smile.

I never knew how warm and suggestive a human hand could be until I held hers for the last hour.

I’m not sure how I haven’t combusted into bits.

In the flickering light from the screen and Arlo’s soft snore, it all feels half like a fever dream. So surreal I’m half worried I’ll blink and wake up in my boring old life.

Am I really here with my son sleeping away, holding the hand of the woman who gave birth to him?

Yes.

Fucking yes.

And it doesn’t make a lick of sense why a joker like me should be this lucky.

That beat in my chest gets stronger, though, like my heart wants to break through my ribs and escape.

“I hope he isn’t drooling on you,” Salem says as she stretches, gently easing Arlo away from me. “I’d better get this little boy to bed.”

“Let me.” I scoop him up, catching his head against my shoulder, using a softness I never knew I had not to wake him.

He stirs and mumbles—something about an octopus, I think—and we pad upstairs slowly. I’m walking him toward the guest room with a big enough bed for the boy and his mother, a perfect place for them to—

I catch myself mid-thought.

No, shit.

This is too new, too delicate for assumptions.

Still, it feels right as I carry him into the room. Salem sets his little backpack down in the corner.

That might be a good sign.

When I decided which room they should have, I picked this one deliberately.

Right now, it’s decorated in earthy browns and off-white. Modern and cozy without being too bright or intimidating.

If I close my eyes, I can see into the future, the walls plastered with movie posters. The bathroom is right next door, and he could have a bunk bed against the wall.

The next room over, a small walk down the hall, that’s my master bedroom.

Danger.

It’s scary, having thoughts like this when we haven’t even made the decision to be a family yet, but I can’t fucking help it.

They crowd my head more by the second.

Arlo stirs as I lay him on the bed. His eyelids flutter, but he just rubs his cheek on a chubby hand and goes back to sleep.

“Thanks, but I’ll take it from here,” Salem whispers.

I half want to argue that if he’s my son, I should be more involved.

Then again, she’s put him to bed for five years. It’s her domain and I’d be a jackass idiot to challenge that, wouldn’t I?

One day, maybe.

Tonight, I’ll prove I have a functioning brain.

“Okay. I’ll wait for you outside,” I tell her, holding back a balmy smile.

I still can’t believe he’s my son.

Two little words for a pint-sized human with world-shattering significance.

“All the excitement tuckered him out,” she says as she closes the door gently behind her. “Thanks for carrying him up.”

I pull her into me and she collides with my chest, breathless and smiling, even though she tries to pin the smile away.

“He’s a good kid,” I tell her. “Truth be told, today meant a lot to me.”

“Yeah? You mean it?” She inhales sharply.

“You know I do.”

“Patton, you have no idea how happy I am to hear it.” She rests her hand against my chest, flexing her fingers as she glances down at the contact. “This evening has been so special.”

I kiss her then, my animal hunger taking over, deeply enough so she comes back up for air with a messy whisper of, “We need to be quiet.”

Luckily for us, my bedroom is only a heartbeat away. The walls are thick enough to avoid too many worries about sound, considering what I paid for this place. Before we head out, she leaves an old baby monitor on the nightstand next to Arlo.

A minute later, she’s all mine.

I’m growling, taking her to the bathroom, stripping off her clothes before our feet even touch the tile.

I don’t give her time to admire the walk-in shower with its heated bench or the double rainfall heads ready to amplify the steam that’s already so thick around us. She can do that later, preferably when I’m buried in her.

I barely switch the shower on before she’s against the wall.

Fuck yes, she’s ready.

I know she’s soaked before my fingers even open her pussy.

They don’t play long before my greedy cock demands attention.

We’re two strumming hearts and all friction under the hot spray, and again in the bed.

We make our own violent music from instruments of need denied for far too long.

I fuck her with a raging fury that rips me in two.

Soon, she’s exploding on my cock, grinding my name into the pillow and then my hand, hounding me to come inside her.

No hesitation.

No choice.

There’s just this rough, bone-shaking, guttural thrust as I drive into her womb and unload, filling her like I want to breed her again.

I know it sounds like lunacy.

I don’t fucking care.

Something about having one surprise kid with her makes me feral, dredging up this wild possessive instinct from the depths of my soul.

“This feels like turning a page,” she murmurs later, curled against my chest. “…tell me it’s not just me, Patton.”

The words lodge in my chest, carving out a home.

It’s a dream and a promise all at once.

I wrap an arm over the dip of her waist and pull her against me.

“It’s not just you. And we should tell him, Salem. I know it’s early, but it’s killing me to spend time like this without him knowing.”

Like I said.

Lunacy.

She tenses.

“I know, I get how you feel, but…” She hesitates. I know her answer before she gives it. “It’s just so soon.”

“You said you wanted to wait until we were sure.” I push my forehead to hers, kissing her, pulling back only to lock eyes. “In case you couldn’t tell, I’ve made up my damn mind.”

“I know, and I—well, I did, too. But I think we should wait, Patton. Just a little while longer to be safe.”

Bitter disappointment churns in my throat, but I keep my voice level as I say, “Okay. I get it.”

“Please just give it time. It’s not like I don’t want to.”

“I will. You’re right, Lady Bug.” There’s nothing to do now but agree with the voice of reason.

She has ten thousand times more experience raising this boy than I do.

Also, it’s a big adjustment. So mammoth it could crush the poor kid if it isn’t done right.

She kisses me again, tracing her fingers along my jaw. “It means a lot that you want to step up,” she murmurs. “I just want to help you do this right.”

I smile into her teasing touch, everything tempting my mouth to want to blow her to pieces again.

“I know. We can’t rush into this.”

“You’re just impatient,” she teases, flashing her tongue.

“He’s my son, Salem, and he doesn’t know it. He doesn’t recognize me.” I take a breath before I can tell her the dream I’ve had damn near every night since Utah.

It’s the one where Arlo sits at my breakfast bar, drawing one of his masterpieces. He’s busy scribbling and he calls me “Dad.”

“I hope this is enough for now,” she whispers, kissing the corner of my mouth, then the tip of my nose. “This right here. You and me. This is good.”

It is, and it should be the world.

Just having her safe in my arms like this is one dream come true.

But I’m an impatient creature.

I’m not stick-up-the-ass Dexter or boring levelheaded Archer.

I know Arlo’s mine. I can see myself mirrored in everything he does now. His love for pizza, the way he’s into superheroes, how he throws himself into new experiences so fearlessly.

His life.

His eyes.

Fuck.

Before, life was all about making money and trying not to shit things up like the spoiled brat most people think I am. Whether that was thanks to Higher Ends or the Navy or just growing up in a house where money and wealth were piled on my shoulders from day one.

Until now, I didn’t have a clear idea of what the future should look like.

It was always vague, caped in fog like the early mornings this time of year. But the sun has risen and I see what’s nearly in my grasp.

All mine for the taking, if I’m man enough to reach out.

And I want to.

I want to know what life will look like with Salem Hopper, when I can step up to be a dad and her man.

This time, I want forever.