Page 163 of One Big Little Secret

He stops midway through finding a shirt from his huge walk-in closet.

“Ah.” The material slips through his fingers as he turns back to me. “Ever?”

“I never had a serious boyfriend before you came along. Then with a newborn it was impossible, and after he got older, I was focused on my career, so yeah.” I shrug, hating the crawling, itchy shame that comes with this confession. “This is it. My first time.”

“God, Salem. I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t think?” I quirk an eyebrow, daring him to smile. “My dating history isn’t very long. Or complicated.”

There’s another loudthud.

Arlo!

I swing into action, throwing on a robe over the t-shirt I wore to bed.

“I’d better go see what he’s up to,” I say ruefully. “Just in case he’s out of his room, destroying your house.”

“It’s a big place. He’d have a hard time ruining it.”

“Don’t say that to his face. He loves a challenge.”

Patton smiles, but it partly fades as he walks with me. “Hey, Salem? Thanks for trusting me.”

He could be a morning god, standing there in a shirt open at the collar, his hair still mussed from sleep. His eyes have that sleepy, sharp look he specializes in.

I don’t know how it happened, but I’ve placed all my trust in this man.

A smile curls my lips.

An answering smile lights in his eyes.

Thankfully, there’s no disaster waiting down the hall, just Arlo dumping his backpack out, trying to find his tablet.

We’re not expected at the Rory estate until dinner, so we spend the day together.

Patton takes us to the zoo and Arlo gets to scream with excitement at seeing all the animals from his nature books in the flesh and fur.

After we come back, Patton takes Arlo off to his study with the aquarium to talk about fish while I get ready.

Soon, I’m staring at my reflection in the mirror.

Mom used to call me pretty girl before I failed at life. When I was little, she’d brush my hair for half an hour sometimes. Now I know that’s because she wanted me to go to college, get an education I don’t need, and marry a man my parents low-key picked.

Yeah, that was never in the cards.

About the time I passed on college, she never complimented my looks again. Maybe that’s when I stopped believing I could be pretty, too.

When Patton calls me beautiful, it doesn’t quite compute. I search my face for signs he isn’t crazy.

Hazel eyes shot with gold.

Dark mocha-brown hair that ripples down my back when I let it.

A pointed Cupid’s bow on my upper lip.

A dark mole on my jaw, too low to be a beauty spot.

Eyebrows that need professional help to curve right.

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