Page 46 of One Big Little Secret

Laughing like he’s the world’s greatest funny man.

Shit, even Archer is making noise.

Archer—Mr. Uptight Frowny Fuck himself—might bust a seam if he keeps laughing.

I rub my eyes.

Is this real life?

She’s known him for five seconds, and somehow, they’re both giddy.

Honest to God, I can’t remember the last time my brother smiled at anyone who isn’t named Colt, Junie—and that one was a long time coming—or Mom.

Miracles never cease, they say.

I wish like hell this one would.

“Miss Hopper,” I snap off. I check myself at the doorway because it feels like I’ve walked in on something scandalous. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Mr. Rory.” She looks at me, her laughter tapering off.

“Mr. Rory?” Archer raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you know he prefers Pat?”

Goddamned great.

Now everybody in the office is picking up on our weird-ass dynamic because Salem can’t just benormaland get over a naked mistake from years ago.

“Um, sure. I just figured we should keep it more professional since he’s the mentor and all.” She flushes.

“Doesn’t matter what I prefer,” I say stiffly. “I can come back later, if I’m interrupting.”

“No, no, I was just leaving.” Salem collects her bag as Archer looks between us with a frown. “I just came to meet the other masterminds behind the company.”

“A pleasure,” Archer tells her. “My door’s open anytime.”

Your door, Bro, is about to slam your face hard enough to bruise.

With pure stupid jealousy coursing through my veins, I hold the door for her. “I’ll walk you down to reception. It’s a big office.”

“Not that big, thanks. I remember the way.”

“Miss Hopper, I insist.” I glower at Archer, annoyed with the curious gleam in his eye as he watches us.

“Don’t go anywhere,” I tell him. “I need to discuss a few things with you.”

“Whatever, man. I’m not like you, jumping all over the city. I’ve got plenty of real work right here.” He retreats behind his desk.

Dickwad.

Isn’t that just like old Arch? Always slinging little comments that come back to bite you straight in the ass.

Usually, I’d lay into him—and remind him who pushed so hard for The Cardinal after we were up the creek when the Hautedeal fell through—but not with Salem in the room, watching intently.

“Let’s move,” I growl, taking her hand and leading her back downstairs to the front desk.

She trails behind me, still clutching her purse. I don’t even realize she’s stuck to me until I feel her little nails daggering the meat of my palm.

“Ow. What the hell was that—”

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