Page 121 of One Big Little Secret

We’re practically alone in this maze of petrified waves with the rest of our small group moving on.

“What are you doing?” A frown touches his face. His fingers fall against mine, asking for my hand, urgent yet unsure if I’m crazy enough to give in.

Honestly, I don’t know what I want to give him.

So I let my fingers decide—and they find a home tucked in his hand.

“I’m fine. I guess I just…” I shrug, embarrassed. “It’s a vibe here. This place has been around forever. It’s crazy to think about how long. But it’s so peaceful. I wanted to absorb it a little, as weird as that sounds. The good energy, I guess.”

“Good energy,” he repeats skeptically. “Will you be breaking out the crystal healing wands next?”

“You never know.” My voice drops. “I’m a walking disaster, Patton. Watch out.”

Too honest.

But he doesn’t flinch as he smiles.

“You don’t need good energy, woman. You need a damn break. And you need more company than a hyperactive five-year-old who keeps you running ragged. You need me to—” He pauses as our tour guide rounds the corner, irritation written across his face after noticing we’re missing.

“Guys, can you please try to keep up with the group?” He’s polite but exasperated.

Patton pulls a face behind me. I struggle to keep my expression straight as the guide blusters and takes his place at the front while we rush up behind him to rejoin the group.

“Like I wassaying,” he starts pointedly, and Patton winks at me.

I dissolve into silent laughter.

I’m happily listening to the guide’s lecture, but I’m not sorry we drifted off. Being here with Patton feels like the kind of luck and company that can’t possibly be bad for me.

By the time we head out later, my hand still pressed in his, I’ve found my own energy.

I’m walking on sunshine.

We get backin plenty of time for another fancy dinner, this time with a group of large real estate investors from across the country.

The sun ripples, bloodred on the horizon as we change into our dinner clothes. Patton emerges in a crisp black suit.

I’m wearing the best frilly red cutout dress money can buy from a secondhand store.

Not that you’d ever be able to tell.

He stops and stares at me so hard I wonder if I’ve smeared my makeup.

“Um, what? Too much skin?” I ask nervously. “Just say the word and I’ll change. I brought a few options.”

“Too muchyou,” he growls raggedly, striding forward until we’re a breath apart. “Fuck, Salem, you make this too easy—and too damn hard to keep pretending. Can’t decide which one’s worse.”

I shiver.

Because I know he’s not just stroking my ego. There’s no mistaking the molten look in his eyes, the raw hunger, the way he looks at the cutout around my waist.

If looks could tear my clothes off, I’m pretty sure I’d be naked right now.

“Don’t change a thing,” he rumbles. “And if anyone touches you or makes you uncomfortable, you tell me.”

There’s a violence in his voice that makes me shudder again.

“Um, okay. It’s modern enough, though? No designer label, of course, but it was the best I could find on short notice. I’m honestly more worried what the ladies will think.”

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