Page 5 of Small Town Secrets

“Maybe it’s just that I’m new here and everyone else no longer notices?” She nodded to the oil bottle in his hand. “Now, crack that open for me, will you?”

He peered down to the bottle in his hand, his numb expression lifting to her, while his brow shifted to a firm and heavy set. “Well, hang on a minute, I might have offered to help you, but you can’t just traipse in here and take over my kitchen.”

She crossed her arms and waited, allowing a few moments of quiet to settle between them. “Okay, so here’s my deal”—because cutting deals was what she did best. Because she loved that suspenseful moment where the other person could always say no—“You’re right, I am taking over, but I’ve been on the road for months now and I’d really appreciate a chance to cut loose in this kitchen. I also think you’re one attractive man. So, I propose we start with spending some time here cooking together—a recipe of my choice, by the way— and if you’re game, you take me home with you tonight.”

A rush of adrenaline swept through her body. That she’d been so bold. That she now had her “moment.” The one where he could say, “No.” Where he could crush her with rejection, though she suspected she’d be less crushed, so much as unfortunate to be at the receiving end of a cold and miserable night in her car.

Everything about this moment carried a distinct weight and silence she wanted to end, though she knew the next opportunity to speak belonged to Gordon.

His cheeks hung a little slack and his mouth slightly open, a low creak preceding his next words. “You mean”—he snapped his mouth shut and took a slow swallow—“as in?”

Sensing he feared elaborating on the question, she took further initiative and dragged her gaze down his body, and then leveled back a sly smile. Maybe Gordon here didn’t have a classical heartthrob vibe going on, but she’d been around riches and glamor long enough to appreciate that pure aesthetics weren’t everything. She knew how to spot a hidden gem in this man’s strong, safe, and sweet demeanor. So, to her, he was downright irresistible.

She shrugged, trying to make her proposition seem as lighthearted and unthreatening as she intended it to be. “You’re single, aren’t you?”

He gave a slow nod but offered no verbal reply.

So, she spoke again. “Then, why not?”

He blinked again, shaking his head, as if to come to his senses. “You seem so sure I feel the same way about you.”

“You don’t?” She waited as his gaze did a slow glide down her body, from the low neckline of her figure-hugging black, Dior tank top that displayed a good portion of her full bust, down to the forest green Bottega flare skirt that showcased her unapologetically wide hips.

His focus latched to hers again, wide, and clearly taken aback, before he nodded slowly. “Alright then. We’ll give this a whirl.”

Three

The sun warmed Laila’s face as she tilted her chin up to the canopy of wisteria blooms over the outdoor area at Emilia and Blaine’s wedding reception. The Mirabelle River burbled a little farther up ahead. The soft breeze pushed at her Arctic blue tulle dress and she damn-near sighed at how wonderful it felt to just enjoy a rare day out contrary to her usual routine of work, study, and child wrangling—dressed to the nines, and for once feeling human.

Speaking of her child, Whitney whirled on the dance floor with the other little ones inside, giving Laila extra relief from her role of mother. Lively music echoed from the open concertina doors and through to her in the garden, the whoosh of waving wisteria vines and people’s chatter melding with the music.

Aggie talked beside her, the table’s live flower arrangements a labor of love care of her nursery. And despite Laila’s lack of focus, she appreciated the light talk on flower species all the same.

Taking a quick sip from the champagne flute in her hand, she peered down at Aggie and vowed to re-enter the chat. “I have to say, being here sure beats studying or working.”

Aggie smiled and deep wrinkles crinkled the skin below her eyes and around her mouth. She reached her age-spotted hand to pat Laila’s upper arm and offered a gentle squeeze. “It’s been a while since I saw you look so at peace, Dear. It suits you.”

Laila tilted her head to one side and tried not to frown at Aggie’s observation. “We’ve all had enough to stress about with the syndicate. You don’t need to worry about me, okay? You’ll see, just one more year and things will get easier.”

She pulled her lips into a confident smile while her tummy muscles turned rigid, and her fingers clasped tighter on the stem of her champagne flute. She’d had years of “not okay” already and couldn’t imagine a day when she wouldn’t fear having all she’d fought for wrenched away.

A little stunned that her gaze had slipped to the ground, she lifted her attention back to Aggie and sought to convince her once more. Only, her attention didn’t land on Aggie so much as veer to the woman’s left, where a bronzed god-like man rounded a corner and joined the party.

Ramos?

Oh hell, no! Not him.

She’d thought the sun shone bright before, but the warm glow of his skin outshone anything here, his white dress shirt only adding extra contrast to his “godly” hue. And of course, his every step through the crowd looked more like a dramatic prowl, one that elevated her pulse and stole at her breath.

Though stopped next to Dean, Adrian’s dark gaze landed on her, that gaze strong, even as his lips moved in conversation with his friend. She let out a groan but held back from outright rolling her eyes. Whatever she’d planned to say to Aggie faded and she skimmed her attention over the many local women now glancing at Ramos—a new man of dating age always quick to draw attention.

Good! They can have him.

He patted Dean on the shoulder in a clear goodbye and set his stride firmly in her direction.

No. Please. Just no!

She shook her head and flared her eyes, warning him to stay away. Aware that all those looking at him would next move to talking about him… and by association, her. As always, fate chose to be cruel and all too soon he stood at her side, his lopsided grin revealing a way-too-endearing smile.

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