Page 57 of One Big Little Secret

I keep my back straight, waiting for the inevitable moment where he knows we can’t continue on like this. Where he pushes me out and brings in someone else to undo all of my hard work, erasing any mark I ever left on The Cardinal.

I’m sure he’s just been waiting for an excuse, right?

But he flicks his gaze at the computer screen and the spreadsheets still displayed there.

“I want your report by Monday. Your own self-imposed deadline.” That’s all he says as he turns and storms out.

God.

I let my head thump on the desk, dislodging my neat cards and sending them cascading into a mess.

God.

This is it.

What is it about this ridiculous man that turns me into a pretzel of pure chaos?

How is it we can have an almost human conversation one minute yet it feels like pure torture the next?

I’m starting to see why your past ventures never got off the ground.

It’s the kind of quippy thing I might say when I’m angry. Lashing out, claws extended, just like a cornered cat. Pure defense mechanism.

But he knows where it hurts, and with the disbelief fading, I’m left with the sting that resonates to my core.

“Blue-eyed prick,” I mutter, picking up where I left off.

Why couldn’t he have shown his evil side the night we met?

But if he had, I’d be trading Arlo for a different life, and I’d never do that in a billion years.

I just hate the fact that I’m stuck living this one, where he gets to be the biggest dick I’ve met, and I still have to thank him.

Without Patton Rory, though, my sweet son wouldn’t exist.

That’s a cruel, cold fact written in the stars.

The price is this creeping insanity, living another day where we’re playing a game of chicken, and managing my feelings like I can somehow talk a volcano into staying calm.

8

SPIN AT THE WHEEL (PATTON)

Inever thought mentoring would break me after all my years in business.

I’ve organized deals and landed contracts that had the potential to bring the company to its knees in its infancy—and with the Forrest Haute case, it almost did.

I’ll admit, that one was a blunder.

But eventhatstress hasn’t rubbed me raw half as much as Salem Hopper.

Why is it so damn difficult?

She isn’t the first intern I’ve ever had. The other property managers we have on payroll haven’t caused me an inch of trouble.

It’s a me thing, probably.

It fucking has to be.

---