Page 2 of One Small Secret

Ruben Palmer may have been born to run the company that employed nearly half of Rosco, Washington’s working population, but I am going to prove myself, just like I did in high school, in college, and in Vietnam. He might have wished Vietnam would break me and I would give up working for his company, but I’m back with more hands-on work experience than anyone else on the development team, and I already know where Palmer Hotels should build next. I open my folder containing my communications about the Laos location. I’ve been emailing the department about the Luang Prabang region for over a year, and now that I’m here, they are going to listen.

* * *

“Cadence?” Half an hour into work, I look up from my computer and find Christian smiling at me with that broad smile of his. His blond hair is short and styled to an inch of its life, but the precise style suits him. Maybe it’s been way too long since I’ve been in a position to date, but he looks insanely good. Why did I refuse to go out with him again? “I knew you were coming back, but I missed you coming in. How was Vietnam?”

I flash him my best smile. Christian is the first person to recognize me, and even if he hadn’t been young-Brad-Pitt-good-looking, I’d beam at him. “It was amazing. You should see the hotel.”

“I’ve seen pictures online.”

“They don’t do it justice.”

“Not as beautiful as our lake, though?”

I tip my head to one side, tap my pen to a paper on my desk, and bite my tongue about his choice of words. I guess five years in Rosco has Christian thinking he’s a local. He’d better not call the lake his in front of Geraldine Forrester. She would skin his hide and remind him that no one gets to call it that without having lived here for more than forty years. Even though I hadn’t been born when Ben Palmer poured the foundation on the first Palmer Hotel, my family is as local as they come. My grandpa was the one to buy Ben’s land so he could afford to build the hotel in the first place. “Nothing is as beautiful as our lake.”

“Have you been since you got back?”

“In the snow?” I shiver. I still can’t quite feel one of my pinkie toes from my five-minute walk into work this morning. I really shouldn't have worn heels.

“I don’t remember that stopping you before.”

“That’s because I used to be immune to the stabbing face pain that comes with below-freezing weather. The snow and wind managed to get a lot colder while I was gone.”

“Do you want help toughening up?” Christian raises an eyebrow. Christian isn’t asking me out, exactly. But he isn’t not asking me out, either.

The thought of the short hike from the hotel to the lake makes goosebumps rise on my arms. But it’s the most beautiful place in the world. Ben knew what he was doing when he built his first luxury hotel there, and Christian is literally the only person besides my mom who has acknowledged my return to Rosco. I shrug. “Maybe I do.”

Christian’s smile falters slightly, like I've completely caught him off guard. “Really?” His surprise and hopeful optimism seals the deal.

“Yes, really. When should we go? I’ll make sure I bust out my old snow pants and mittens.”

“Tomorrow after work?”

“Sounds great.”

Christian's smile is broad enough that even Brad Pitt would have been proud. “Do you want to grab dinner first?”

Eating out in Rosco can be tricky. Before the hotel went up, there was one mom-and-pop restaurant, a bakery, a seedy bar, and a Zip’s. With the influx of big spenders up on the mountain, the mom-and-pop restaurant started serving overpriced Italian cuisine, the bakery now imports all of its ingredients from France, and Zip’s is still there for locals who wanted an inexpensive burger.

The seedy bar remains a seedy bar. Apparently hotel guests love the small-town feel of peeling paint and battered bar stools.

Not a single one of those options sounds like first date material. “I’ll eat at home. Why don’t you pick me up at seven? Are you okay with hiking in the dark?”

“I’m not sure you can call a boardwalk path to the lake a hike. We’ll be fine, as long as you don’t freeze.”

I am one thousand percent going to freeze. But Christian’s smile is contagious. “I’ll wear extra layers.”

All my extra layers. December in Washington is kicking my butt.

CHAPTER TWO

I can’t feel any of my toes by the time I reach my apartment building.

I’m not wearing my running shoes tomorrow, I’m wearing my insulated hiking boots.

I punch in the code to my first-floor apartment and throw open the door.

Someone jumps up from my sofa.

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