Page 114 of One Big Little Secret

After the winter back home, the warmth really is pleasant, even if it’s less than seventy degrees. I join her, lying back on the sun lounger and letting the heat trickle over my skin.

From here, the only thing I can hear is that empty, hollow sound of the desert valley between the mountains.

“This doesn’t feel real,” she says.

“The perks of hard work. Enjoy it.”

“For you, maybe. I’m just riding your coattails. I could never afford this place without you.”

“Maybe not now. In a few years, who knows? Find the right opportunity, serve the market, and the money comes faster than you think.”

She sighs, shading her face with her hand as she looks at me. And maybe it’s stupid to think, but lying here makes it feel like we’re a lounging couple, not two people on a work trip.

“You put a lot of confidence in me. I’m not sure why.”

“Why the hell shouldn’t I?”

“Because I’mme,Patton.Like, even if I wind up with a stable gig, I’ll never reach this level.”

I snap my fingers loudly, pausing while she stares at me.

“What was that for?” she whispers.

“I’m done listening to you doubt yourself.” I close my eyes. “Today, we’re going to soak in our success and enjoy it without any worries about tomorrow.”

I wish I only meant business.

“Is that an order?”

“Will you follow it?” I growl back.

She laughs. A heady, cheerful sound I haven’t heard often enough.

“Okay, fine. I’ll enjoy the evening and bring my game face tomorrow,” she says.

There’s still a smile in her voice. I can picture it without looking at her, the way her eyes crinkle and she bites her bottom lip when she’s overthinking.

“Then it’s decided,” I say.

“Yeah.” She pauses and there’s a rustling sound as she sits up. I glance across at her, but she’s watching the shimmering pool like she’s imagining diving in. “Patton,” she starts and pauses again. “Thanks for this.”

“You’re the one doing me a favor, honoring my jackass request,” I tell her. Her lips curl into another smile, and she looks away to hide it. “Just don’t tell the guys I have eleven toes or an extra nipple or something.”

This time, her laugh comes straight from her belly.

The warmth makes me laugh, too.

And our combined laughter echoes into the afternoon and melts under the silent, staring desert sun.

For the first time in ages, I remember how to relax.

Dinner goes down without a disaster.

She’s remarkably good at playing the glamorous girlfriend—Dexter, eat your fucking heart out—and it’s a solid trial run even if it’s just the two of us.

She’s attentive and kind. I enjoy watching her reaction to the overpriced French-inspired modern cuisine more than I do the food itself.

In another life, I’d call it a perfect night.

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