Page 151 of One Big Little Secret

“So, what? You’re on board with backing out?” Archer asks gruffly.

“Not so fast, I’m just talking facts.” Although I’m torn over whether these properties are truly worth it. “There’s somethingelse, too. Mom mentioned that she gets the sense Evelyn is under some kind of stress—money trouble, probably.”

“Shit. Not surprising if she’s got these beasts pulling her down,” Dexter grumbles. He looks at me and I know he’s already figured out what Mom suggested. “She offered to help her, didn’t she?”

“I told her no. This is purely business and she can’t get in the middle of it.”

Archer leans back thoughtfully, his eyes dark.

“Aw, hell. Normally, I wouldn’t suggest mixing business and friendship, but… it’s Evelyn.” He sighs and rakes a hand through his hair—a familiar tell that he’s about to make a concession. “Maybe we shouldconsidergiving her those upfront payments. The land alone is appreciating rapidly, even if the cabins will need some serious money.”

“Maybe,” Dexter says slowly. “Based on market projections, of course.”

“Adjusted for inflation, Archer’s right,” Salem says. “But the market appears pretty volatile right now for vacation rentals in northern Minnesota. Conservative estimates might be smart.”

Archer nods. “Right. We want to keep her afloat without tying up too much capital.”

If you ask me, the photos scream money pit, even if they could still be profitable in the long run. But if Archer still wants to move ahead when he’s normally the most risk averse, I won’t be the guy who shoots it down.

Besides, Salem’s market research looks impeccable as always. There’s a gap for precisely what we’re offering with the affluent folks who want to live a Scandinavian style lake life without leaving the continent—a niche we could easily fill.

“Agreed.” I tap the table and let all four wheels of my chair hit the floor. “Fine. I’ll work out a payment schedule and run it byyou guys. Enough to help Evelyn and renovate at least one pilot property we’ll target to launch before the year ends.”

“Okay. And nice work, Salem,” Dexter says. “Those market reports were flawless. Couldn’t find any fault if I tried.”

No doubt his number-crunching, money freak ass did try, too.

Dexter loves looking for errors almost as much as he loves studying nutrition labels.

“They were solid,” Archer agrees. The tiniest jealousy bug bites the back of my neck when he smiles at her. “If you ever get sick of managing the day-to-day, we could use a full-time analyst here at headquarters.”

Fucker.

I knew it.

Salem smiles, and just like with Arch, I know what’s coming.

“Thanks,” she says, “but I wouldn’t make a good full-time number cruncher. I need to talk to people and move around to stay on my toes.”

Yes, she does.

Salem Hopper has bigger and better dreams than being cooped up in our office.

I’ve seen her researching charter boats and marina businesses on the side lately. It has me wondering what the future will bring with her career plans, just like so much else.

Not yet, though. It’s not my place to ask.

Not until we’ve figured out what we are—if we’re meant to be anything at all.

Why ruin a good thing when it’s barely begun?

For the firsttime since Utah, we have a date.

I race home early, meticulously cleaning up and agonizing over shirts in a way I haven’t done since my teens.

You know it’s catastrophic when a man puts this much energy into impressing a woman he’s already fucked.

The plan is for dinner and a movie at my place—their first visit here—but it feels like more than that.

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