Page 117 of One Big Little Secret

My head hasn’t stopped spinning since we arrived at Zion Peak.

Everything about this place is dialed up to eleven and I haven’t decided yet if that means I’m dreaming. The top of my arm might be bruised from how many times I’ve pinched it.

But that’s only half of it.

The other half, that’s entirely down to sleeping with Patton Rory but not actuallysleepingwith him.

“I can’ttellyou how excited I am to meet you,” a man in a beige suit says with a grin too wide for his face. He takes my hand and kisses it like we’re in some period drama. “Can’t remember Pat ever bringing a lady around before.”

Yeah, like it’s any secret why.

I glance at Patton and the intent look in his eye. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think he’s jealous.

Just looking at him feels dangerous considering how we woke up this morning.

Correction: howIwoke up this morning—curled around him like a little monkey hugging a tree. He didn’t know I was awake, of course, but being that close felt so good I couldn’t help justlying there in the blissful confusion, somewhere between sleep and a very conscious what-is-happening panic.

My face whips away.

Yeah, looking at Patton right now is a bad idea.

I force my attention back to the stranger in front of me. He smells like pungent cigars and money.

There’s a languid woman hanging by his side. Probably twenty years younger but still looking older than her true age.

“Charmed,” she says. “You must be quite the woman to pair up with a workhorse. Please tell me you don’t put in the long hours he does?”

“Oh, we find our balance. And it’s wonderful to be here, truly,” I tell them both. Patton sends me an approving smile.That, at least, isn’t a lie. “I just can’t believe he hasn’t brought anyone else around before.”

“He’s a ladies’ man, I’ve heard,” the lady drawls. She’s practically dripping real diamonds, and not the lab grown kind, I’m sure.

Patton slides an arm around my waist and I lean into him.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your wicked reputation?” I tease.

I wonder why I don’t feel more nervous.

I should be crawling out of my skin.

Instead, it feels scarily natural, falling into this weird role with him.

“A man always has one if he’s any man at all. The nice part about reputations is they can be rewritten,” he says, giving the lady a wink.

She throws her head back and laughs.

“And you?” the man probes. “What’s yours, Miss Hopper?”

“A lady never tells—at least, not when she’s keeping the lights on at the hottest place in Kansas City,” I say.

They give back satisfied laughter.

They don’t know it’s a real miracle I’m pulling this off in the face of people so manicured and high profile they make Delly Rory look like a slob. A few of the Vegas developers alone here can buy off entire countries.

It makes me appreciate how real Delly seems. She keeps up a beautiful home and isn’t frantically running from one plastic surgery appointment to the next, trying to cheat her mortality like everyone else here.

Wealth is a strange thing.

Sometimes when people work overtime to hide their flaws, it just reveals deeper ones—the kind that aren’t fixed.

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