One Big Little Secret: A Secret Baby Romance (The Rory Brothers Book 2)

Months Later

I stand in my wedding dress, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

Behind me, Delly looks on, her eyes warm and her hands clasped in front of her. She’s totally bursting at the seams, but she lets me soak in this moment.

And what a moment. This dress is everything.

The corset bodice is decorated with diamond-embedded lace, curving around my breasts, equally elegant and enticing. It flares into my waist and over my hips, where the skirt flows in opulent waves to the floor.

Today, I feel like a princess. Amazingly, I look the part, too.

The seamstress even embroidered our initials inside the fabric off to the side, masked by a piece of lace. My little secret. I run my fingers over the letters, tracing them and remembering everything that’s happened to bring me here.

Patton’s ring flashes on my finger.

I had a matching necklace commissioned as my ‘something blue,’ and it sits in the hollow of my throat. My clavicle stands in sharp relief as I take a deep breath. Honestly, it’s perfect when there’s a lot of blue in this wedding.

But holy hell, is it happening for real? In less than an hour?

“Is it the heat, dear? You look flushed,” Delly says.

“No, I’ve just been pinching myself about fifty times since I woke up,” I tell her with a laugh.

A photographer in the background snaps a not-so-discreet candid shot. I try to remember her advice to forget she’s there. We’ll want these shots for memories later.

Delly giggles and finally releases her hands. She’s wearing a sapphire-blue dress that matches the necklace, regal as ever as mother of the groom.

Patton.

My soon-to-be husband.

He’s had three whole months to change his mind, but if anything, he’s just been pushing for everything to happen at breakneck speed. There was barely time to book the wedding venue and set up all the moving pieces. Without Delly pulling some strings and calling in favors, I’m not sure if we could’ve pulled it off.

I can’t say I blame him for the urgency.

For us to be a family faster.

Marrying this man isn’t a trial, though. I’m so over judging him for being gruff and demanding when I know his heart’s in the right place.

“Believe it, lovely lady. You two were meant to be,” she says. “Fate has a funny way of being pushy until you give in.”

That was me, the not giving in part. Patton, to my eternal gratitude, was ready from the start. Or at least from the moment I told him about Arlo after that trip to Utah.

I’m the fool who kept running while he chased.

Thank God he never quit.

“I guess I don’t mind pushy,” I say absently.

“Well, I hope so. You’re marrying my youngest son.” She smiles. “Life has a way of making things right in the end.”

Delly nods firmly. I wonder if that’s as much for her as it is for me.

I don’t need to ask to know Evelyn Hibbing still weighs on her mind. And it breaks my heart every time, hating that this sweet lady had to have her best friend turn supervillain.

“Some things are meant to be, I should say,” she corrects. “But no matter how wild it seems, it’ll always be clear with time.”

“You’re probably right. But there are days when I don’t think Patton and I were meant to be at all,” I muse, watching my reflection again.

The hotel room is one of the most luxurious I’ve ever stepped foot in with enormous gold picture frames and a four-poster bed. I thought these beds were almost extinct outside the movies.

Delly shakes her head, her curls bobbing. “Oh, you’re right to be nervous. Who isn’t on her wedding day? Just as long as you remember, no one else could have infatuated my son like you—and no one could ever capture his entire heart.”

My cheeks heat. I touch the embroidered initials on the side of my dress again, feeling them like this security blanket I desperately need.

Later, I’ll ask him to find them. It’ll be funny, knowing he’ll want to shred this dress off me and—

I blink, banishing the vision.

Yeah, let’s save that for when his mother isn’t in the same room.

“Even when he makes me want to punch him?” I ask.

“That’s called love,” Delly says without missing a beat.

“Even when I feel so unworthy?”

“Even then,” she whispers, leaning down to kiss the top of my head. “Give it time. In a few years, you’ll wonder how you ever lived before this family.”

Wow, she’s good.

I think I’m a decent mom, but Delly Rory could write books on it. I wonder if I’ll ever turn out a fraction as awesome if we give Arlo a few more siblings?

A lump moves up my throat.

All this talk of love and family makes me think about mine.

My parents are here, yes, after I sent them a belated invitation. We’ve had phone calls and a brief visit last month where I introduced Arlo since they’ve been behaving themselves and trying to act human.

But they’re not guests of honor.

You don’t just move on that easy for a storybook happy ending, not when there’s trauma involved.

That’s why I’m not having Dad walk me down the aisle. Same reason my mom isn’t here with me in the bridal room, where she’d only stress me out before the big moment.

I have Delly, and Junie will be along shortly. So will a couple ladies from The Cardinal, new friends I love going out with for lunch and after-dinner drinks.

Oh, and no Kayla either.

That friendship is charred to a crisp.

I didn’t bother sending her an invite. Not that she’d have shown up if I had, although it might have been worth it just to get a bitchy text message back about how atrocious I am for insulting her and stealing ‘her man.’

But dwelling on poisonous old frenemies has me thinking about Evelyn again. Her trial date isn’t firm yet, but there’s no doubt she’ll be looking at several lifetime sentences.

The story became a national sensation, especially after a deeper investigation revealed she murdered her husband on top of her treachery with us.

Poison, made from his own plants, to induce a heart attack. Then she drained his leftover investments in every high-limit room Las Vegas has, gambling herself to doom.

Big surprise, right?

Arlo wasn’t her first rodeo using nature’s bounty to hurt people.

Although I hate her now with a passion that scares me, the emotion isn’t totally uncomplicated.

She’s a bitter old woman with an addiction who’s set to be locked up for the rest of her life, after the jury finds her guilty. That’s a little hard to celebrate, even if I’ll still be viciously glad, knowing she can never hurt anyone again.

For Delly, it’s different.

When her husband died and her boys grew up, Evelyn took her place as her confidante, her best friend and companion. The news that not only did she steal from her, try to kill her grandson, and fled with her sons’ money… It’s a freaking lot to process.

I don’t blame her for finding it hard to deal with, even today, when we should be so happy it’s just a bitter afterthought.

“The honeymoon is only two weeks,” I remind her gently. “It was hard enough prying Patton away from work for that long, but are you sure you can handle Arlo?”

“Oh, yes. I’m amazed you managed that. Patton must learn to take a week off sometimes. I just hope you’re ready for a spoiled little bird when you get back.” Delly smiles, brushing away a tear.

“It was an effort. But we’ll be back before you know it and you can call if you need anything.” I’m also happy she won’t be alone.

She pats me on the shoulder again, smiling fondly as she checks the time on her phone.

“Come, dear. We can’t be late for your vows.”

Standing, I pull her into a hug impulsively.

“Thank you for being family, Mom,” I whisper.

“Oh, hush. It’s my honor. If you really want to show your appreciation, I’ll let you do it with more grandbabies—when you’re ready, of course.” The impatient note in her voice makes me giggle.

And we laugh together as she pats my hair, styled in long curls, with a clumsy hand.

I don’t think anyone who ever lived felt more privileged than I do, standing across from Patton, trying not to go numb.

He’s in his full princely glory today.

This man is illegally, devilishly handsome in a navy suit that matches his eyes so well it should be impossible.

And when he grins at me, his thumb moving over the back of my hand, I almost detonate.

If I didn’t know any better, I might think his eyes are a little shinier than usual.

The riverboat sways gently under us.

What better place for us to say our vows? Here on the water, under the gentle early summer sun, our love comes full circle.

And I hope this evening ends with the same explosive finish as our very first night.

Arlo, giddy with excitement, skips forward with two rings in a tiny wicker basket, handing them to the pastor before he gives me the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on his face.

His blue suit matches Patton’s, complete with a kiddie clip-on tie, a sweet touch that nearly brings me to tears.

Breathlessly, I hold out my hand for him to slip the ring on. His eyes are sharp as his fingers caress mine, sending heat skittering down my spine.

Even as we’re getting married, I want him more than I can breathe.

My turn now.

I take Patton’s platinum ring, the inside etched with our initials like my dress, and I slide it over his finger, binding us forever.

He’s mine.

I’m his.

We belong to each other in every way.

I want to scream it from the rooftops as I stare up into his eyes and see the love, the heat, the softness that waits for me there.

Home isn’t a place after all.

It’s people, and with him in my life, I’ll always have it.

The pastor’s words drift over me like surreal music from another world. I’m listening, but not really, too caught in my almost-husband’s eyes.

When he says something about kissing the bride, though, Patton doesn’t waste a nanosecond.

With one hand on my face, he takes my lips with a claiming fury that curls my toes.

God. It really is ‘till death do us part.’

And I cling to him, my hands finding his shoulders and pulling him closer.

Our first kiss as a married couple leaves me in cinders, smoldering with an indecent thrill after he pulls away.

My. Flipping. Husband.

He hits me with one of those grins I know he can’t hold inside whenever he looks at me.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Rory.” The twinkle in his eye turns wicked. “You just took the most eligible bachelor in Kansas City off the market.”

“We’re not in Kansas anymore. And you’re no Dorothy.” Lame, I know, but at least I meet his grin with my own red-faced smile.

“I sure as hell am not.” Before he can prove exactly how un-Dorothy he is, I turn back to the cheering guests.

Delly’s in the front row, along with Archer and Dexter and Junie. Young Colt sits near the end, watching us. One of the rare times I haven’t seen him looking bored out of his mind, but he’s a good kid, especially considering who’s next to him.

Arlo leans off the chair, laughing and clapping his hands like they’re on fire.

My heart swells with pure love for all the folks assembled today, sharing our special moment. Past and present and future melt into one.

Patton slides my hand into his and we walk back down the aisle, through the confetti shower and rowdy cheers, until we’re at the other end of the boat, laughing.

He kisses me again with a smidge more privacy, ensuring there’s zero chance I’ll catch my breath or my senses.

“We have all night you know,” I tease.

“Get used to not waiting. I’ll be doing this a lot from now on, wife,” he whispers.

My skin flares with heat from head to toe.

“Well, okay. Permission granted.”

“More reason to celebrate.” His next kiss comes slow and deep and that heat rising in my core becomes an inferno. I can’t resist running my hands through his styled hair, mussing it up, loving his noise of annoyance that becomes a groan when I nip his bottom lip. “No whining. Do you know how long it took me to get ready this morning?”

“Long enough to enjoy ruining you.” And that cocky grin on his face tells me that’s a promise.

“Maybe.” I lean back and assess his face. “But you have lipstick on your mouth.”

“Lick it off,” he growls.

Dear God.

For a second, I’m actually a little tempted to tell everyone else to head downstairs for the reception and start the party without us while the boat cruises down the river, but I lean back, both hands flat against his chest.

“Not fair. Our people just want to celebrate with us. Don’t we owe them that? Besides, the cake’s supposed to be crazy. Junie and her gram worked on it all day.”

“The cake, the cake…” His nostrils flare with frustration, but there’s a half smile playing across his lips. “Fine. But we’re leaving early.”

“If you behave yourself.” I drag my hands down his washboard abs toward his pants and the definite bulge there. “We’ll deal with this later. And if you’re really a good boy”—I lean in, delighting when he grabs my hand and moves my fingers against his cock—“I’m going to take my sweet time.”

“Kill me fucking now,” he rasps, but there’s humor in his voice, and he releases me. “Do you want this marriage to end before midnight? Woman, I’ll be dead.”

“Be strong. A little patience, that’s a wonderful wedding present.”

He mutters something gruff and crude under his breath I can’t make out, but I’m definitely snickering.

This man.

His mouth grazes my ear as he links hands and we head back to rejoin the party.

“You’re damn lucky I owe you the world, Salem Rory. I’m going to spend the rest of my life carving it up for you on a silver platter.” He watches me nod, satisfied, and he gives me another one of his patented smug smiles. “Now, how about that celebration?”

The rest of the day blurs by in the sweetest fever dream.

That’s what no one tells you about weddings, I guess. Time comes unglued and you spend all day riding such a high that you’ll be lucky to remember much later on.

I think I’m starting to understand why those photos are so important.

After the dinner and a heartfelt speech by my husband, thanking everyone for being here to welcome the next chapter of our lives, I tell everyone about how much he’s changed my life—the good and bad, but mostly the good—and then the music starts pulsing.

The riverboat transforms into a floating party bus, way fancier than anything I ever dared to imagine on my wedding day.

I dive right into the fun, ignoring how constraining this dress feels for dancing with Patton. I’m seriously grateful for the three dancing lessons Delly offered at her expense. I know Arlo loved them too.

He shows off his moves, yelling at me to watch him as he does the moonwalk, the bust down, and his own wild breakdancing in between. I’m glad when Colt charges in with moves of his own, distracting Arlo long enough so I can enjoy my time on the floor with Patton.

And as I stare into my husband’s smoky-blue eyes, I thank the lucky stars we found each other.

Miracle of miracles, we found each other again.

We also spend forever thanking our guests, together and separately. We drink champagne and laugh, surrounded by glitter and good company.

It makes this day impossibly bright and too perfect for life.

Just when I feel like my cup couldn’t be any fuller, the boat docks back at the marina to let the crowd off and then embarks again with just us and a skeleton crew.

The engines rumble under us as they take us down the Missouri River. Patton and I lean over the railing, just like I did one fateful evening so many years ago.

The orange city lights reflected off the water that night, and I’d eyed the river hard, vaguely wondering whether I should jump in. Now, there’s nothing but the hopeful glory of the fading sunset and distant lights spilling across the waters like gold stars.

I’m not alone anymore.

And our honeymoon has officially begun.

“Cheers,” Patton says, clinking his champagne glass against mine. “To the rest of our lives.”

“Tomorrow and forever,” I agree with a smile, turning to face him. “God, I love you.”

No lie.

Ever since the first time I said it, I’ve told him every day, learning how to let myself be vulnerable so we can be stronger. So I can trust Patton Rory.

But now, more than ever, it feels important to say it, to ground us on a night glowing with meaning.

“Salem.” Patton turns to me with the very same light dancing in his eyes. Gone is the smirking strongman who’s usually there.

Tonight, it’s just a man who loves me unconditionally.

He shakes his head, one corner of his mouth curving up in a lopsided smile. “How are you my addiction and my cure? I’ll never love anyone like I love you.”

“Show me, hubby,” I whisper.

I take his face in my hands, feeling the unfamiliar weight of that new band on my finger.

Our next kiss is a slow, gentle storm.

So different from the usual ravenous kisses we share, where every movement fights for dominance, pure possession.

Now, he explores my mouth like we have all the time in the world, slowly simmering me with every movement.

We have all night, at least.

His tongue flicks against my bottom lip, a pointed question.

I open my mouth in answer, granting him access, teasing him back with my tongue.

It’s the ebb and flow like the tide around us, this sense of soulful, mingling passion.

If tonight could be forever, I’d never stop kissing him.

The thought makes me smile, and I throw my arms around his neck.

“This would be more fun without clothes,” I say. “Unless you plan on fucking me right here.”

“Fucking?” He echoes the rough word with amusement, though when he pulls away, his eyes are glinting with total mischief. “Tonight, wife, I won’t be fucking you. I will be making love.” He trails his hand up my leg. “But you will only be wearing this dress once, and I want to enjoy seeing you in it a little while longer.”

“Haven’t you been enjoying it all day?”

“Fuck yes,” he growls in my ear, reaching up and trailing a finger through the lace on my bodice. “But I’m going to savor this moment, Lady Bug.”

So I lean my head back and let him savor.

We kiss like starved animals, my back pressed against the railing, my hands on his broad shoulders, kissing and kissing long into the night.

Eventually, my fingers go to work, tossing away his necktie and unbuttoning his shirt. I never knew how hot a man’s collarbones could be until now.

Another molten kiss and he sighs, his hands tightening around my waist. He isn’t shy as he grinds his cock against me, though I know he’s holding back.

For now.

But he’s had his fun, and now it’s time for mine.

I lean against his chest, easing him back, looking him over again.

My Patton, my man, with his coppery hair and stark blue eyes and endless capacity to love me. And I’m still insanely smitten with the blue suit, which looks painted on over his muscles.

But one day of seeing him in that suit feels like plenty, and I’m sure he’ll agree. Time to say a fond goodbye.

“My turn.” He raises a hand to help me and I shake my head.

It’s painstaking, my progress.

Shucking his jacket off, then working off the open shirt underneath, I let my knuckles graze him as I work, silently worshiping every inch of bronze skin coming into view.

“You approve?” His eyes heat when they meet mine.

“You already know I do.” I press my palms on his chest, loving how his muscles tighten under me.

“Then let me help you out of this thing.”

I turn my back to him, blushing as he slowly undoes the buttons at the back of my dress. I’m thankful he hasn’t had too much to drink—they’re finicky at the best of times. But he doesn’t struggle, not for more than a minute or two.

Freedom!

Cool evening air teases my skin as I step out of the wedding dress piled on the floor. Underneath, there’s just the lingerie I bought for this occasion.

A red and black lace bra, showing off more than it conceals, and matching panties with polka dots. No need to complicate it with anything more elaborate when it won’t be staying on for long.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his voice gritty. “You’ve made this ladybug shit next level.”

I smile. “You’re just saying that because I’m almost naked.”

“Like hell. I’d think you were hot as hell even if you were wearing an old granny sweater.”

I twirl around on the spot. “So you’re saying you don’t like my panties?”

“Fuck no.” And the greedy way he embraces me proves it.

One hand finds my breast while the other caresses my stomach with a silent promise of where it may go next. Warmth pools between my legs.

As one hand toys with the lace of my bra, his other hand draws lazy circles against my stomach, sweeping lower, lower, before he trails a finger down the front of my panties.

I can’t hold back a moan.

And I feel his deep laugh more than I hear it as he turns his attention to my thighs.

“Someone’s in a hurry,” I tell him, wiggling my ass against the hardness behind me.

“Woman, I don’t have infinite patience,” he growls.

“But you’re going to spoil my fun,” I whine.

“Lying brat. You’ll have plenty.”

There’s no denying it as I grind against him again, grinning as his hips thrust against mine, the movement almost involuntary.

He circles my nipple in retaliation and slips a hand under my panties, one finger brushing my slick center.

I bite back a gasp.

Pleasure, overwhelming.

My nerves tingle, primed after being teased by his kisses, his wandering hands, the heady anticipation of what’s coming next.

My whole being cries out.

More, more, more.

And his fingers grow more insistent, grazing my clit.

I buck into their movements, urging them inside me, faster and deeper.

He happily obliges, sliding one finger in, and another as my ass rubs against him again.

“I married one demanding lady,” he whispers, amused lust in his tone.

I can only moan in reply.

This spot is private enough, near the back of the ship. There aren’t many crew around, and they’re mostly up in navigation, but you never know.

Anyone could see us, but I don’t care.

I’m too close to the edge.

Sighing, I throw my head back against his shoulder, my body tight in his arms as he brings me to the brink with practiced ease, plucking all my strings.

“Bite down on this hand when you come,” he whispers, pushing the meat of his palm against my mouth.

That’s it.

Undone.

I come so hard the night becomes streaks of gold and flicking shadows.

I lose myself to his embrace and the deep storming curses he breathes into my ear.

I melt into him the same way I always will, like the world itself folds into just us, two beating hearts given over to our own special madness.

I love how he’s coming apart, too.

His breath turns sharp and ragged as his fingers pump inside me, rubbing me down from my high with demanding need.

“Do you like it, hubby?” I gasp. “Seeing me like this?”

“Yeah. Just not as much as I like you mounted on my cock.” His voice is corrupted with desire, the roughness driving me into a deeper frenzy.

I barely see the passing water, even when my vision clears, or the dark shadows of the silhouetted trees on the far shore as the city fades into the distance.

It doesn’t matter.

All I need is him.

And the hunger in my veins builds until I can’t stand it, turning to face him.

“Not here,” I plead. “We’re already risking so much in the open, why press our luck?”

For a second, I think he’ll push me back against the railing and take me anyway.

But in one smooth movement, he relents, throwing me over his shoulder.

I wrap my legs around him, and each step, each strike of friction, sends more pleasure shooting through me. At this rate, I might come again before he’s in me.

“Be glad you married a jealous man. Only reason I didn’t take you back here was the thought of anyone else feasting their eyes on my wife on our honeymoon.”

“The least I deserve on my wedding night, right?”

“No argument.” His lips curl against my skin as he nips my flesh.

Finally, we reach our cabin and the large double bed that’s waiting.

Rose petals cover the sheets in a messy heart shape that’s swiftly broken by Patton tumbling me down across them.

I’m about to complain when he lowers his body over mine and kisses me again.

This is so familiar, but so deliciously new.

I fight his pants off, and he hurries to help, tossing aside the belt, shoving down his bottoms until he’s free, angry and pulsing and pressed against my entrance.

“Can you take it, good girl? Can you take all of your husband’s cock tonight?” he asks sweetly.

And it hits me. He asked a slightly different question the night we met.

I was younger and drunk, but I’d been so sure I could.

Now, I’m unshakeable.

“Fill me,” I whisper, and he smiles.

His blue eyes never leave mine as he slides inside me, one slow inch at a time.

Filling me.

His eyes are electric as he looks down, admiring what he sees, our bodies joined in the most intimate way, just like our new lives.

“I love you so much it’s obscene,” he says, moving his hips.

I dig my nails into his shoulders and meet his thrusts.

As his speed picks up and our breathing quickens, I sink deeper into the zone.

But before I’m gone, I push gently against him, urging him on.

Soon, we’re twisted around so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, and I’m perched on his lap.

The first time we did this, I had no idea what I was doing.

I let him take me and I loved every second.

But now, I have a lot more experience, and tonight I want to ride Patton Rory to the explosive end.

I stroke his thick hair back and push down on him.

His groan leaves my soul in flames.

“Love you more,” I whisper, bracing my hands on his shoulders. His hands find my hips, guiding me as his eyes meet mine with so much passion. “Do you feel how much I love you?”

“Shit, Salem.” He kisses me again, biting my bottom lip.

He’s so close to losing control, I smile, working my hips to leave him on the edge of insanity just a little bit longer.

I grind against him as he groans, his thrusts becoming truly punishing now.

Close.

So, so close.

“Come with me,” he mutters, one hand pinching my breast as his strokes come faster, harder. “You’re so beautiful. Shit.”

I’m close, too, another climax beckoning. Less like the edge of a cliff and more like a shaft of light. I just need to feel his warmth. I need—

“Salem,” he says. A warning.

I shred the last of my self-control, writhing on him as my pussy clenches him so tight.

My head snaps back and I chase my pleasure, demanding his, too.

His fingers dig into my hips as he tips his head back, eyes wide with delight, and we’re gone.

The fire finally consumes us.

We finish together with his big hand pressed to the small of my back, holding me against him, our gazes clashing, fusing together.

It’s the eye contact that makes this so perfect.

By far one of our most sexy, intimate moments ever.

And my heart sings when I realize it’s only the first of many.

Later, we flop down and roll in the rose petals, basking in the afterglow.

“What’s on my wife’s brain?” he asks.

“I was thinking about boat businesses again. Maybe I don’t need to go to the Ozarks after all to chase a dream… What do you think the market’s like for rental cruises? This is the only ship in town I could find for a wedding.”

“The market? Hmm, that’s tough.” He frowns, holding me tighter. “I think it’s whatever you decide to make it. If you’re serious about this, I’m already behind you. We’ll figure it out.”

I grin, knowing he’d say that. I also know this is a tomorrow conversation, not really fit for pillow talk on our wedding night.

But that’s not what steals my breath away.

Here we are on a boat that feels familiar, yet so very different from our first night together.

Here I am with a husband I still can’t believe I’ve won.

If this is where bad luck brought me, it wasn’t so terrible after all.

And as I kiss him again and he groans in my mouth, I know things are looking up.

Patton Rory has altered my luck forever, and you’d better believe I’ll enjoy every crazy, giddy, awesome bit of it.