Page 73 of One Big Little Secret

To explode at me again—to rake me over the coals for being unprofessional, which would be kind of deserved here—but he just blinks at me and inhales slowly.

“That would explain it. Arch never misses a chance to see me eat shit,” he says.

“…so you’re not mad?”

He glances at me and smiles.

“I’m over it, Salem. Let’s just say we got off on the wrong foot and move on.” He pulls off his glove then, offering me his hand.

Whoa.

I take it gingerly, ignoring that little pop of static between us.

Of course, it’s a strong hand, thick and accustomed to doing harder labor than just working in an office.

Hands tell stories, but I don’t know what his are keeping. Or what, as I pull off my glove, he can read in mine.

“Truce?” he asks, wrapping his fingers around mine. The tip of one finger reaches my inner wrist.

It shouldn’t feel so intimate, but it does.

He’s living proof that calloused hands can be sexier than they have any business being. Annoying.

“Truce,” I echo, giving his hand two pumps before dropping it and fumbling for my glove.

At the bottom of the hill, Arlo makes the long climb back up, huffing and puffing like a little bear this time.

“I used to love coming here,” Patton says with that wistful note in his voice again. “It was one of my favorite memories as a kid.”

“That’s why we’re here today. I wanted to make some good memories for Arlo, and there won’t be much winter left after this storm,” I say before I can help myself. I’m telling him too much. “I also work too much to get out.”

“Looks like he’s having fun to me. Mission accomplished.”

The observation makes my throat clench.

“Yeah,” I say roughly before Patton can comment. “I think he is, and you’re a big part of that today.”

“That was awesome, Mommy. I went a hundred miles an hour!” Arlo puffs out when he reaches us. He looks between us before settling on Patton. “Sled with me again, Mr. Rory.”

“Arlo, you’ve been at it for a while. And what’s the magic word?”

“Please.” He scowls but mumbles it.

“Okay, little man. One more round,” Patton says. “Last one, though. My feet are turning into frozen meat.”

Same here, but he’s definitely taking the worst of it in those dress shoes since he didn’t bring boots. And I wonder if he notices the way I’m shuffling around to make sure I can still get warm blood in my toes.

There’s a lump in my throat as I watch Patton climb in behind Arlo and they take off.

They go blasting down the hill together, just like before.

Patton throws one hand up in the air like he’s on a roller coaster.

Halfway down, they start losing their balance.

At first it’s just a wobble. A twitch.

But after a few more feet, they’re slamming into the snow.

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