Dirty Little Secret

“How’s work?” Orion asks, dragging me out of my thoughts as he cracks open a fresh beer and drops down into the chair beside me on my porch.

“Same as yours but bigger.” I smirk, knowing my reply will irritate him. The fucker is competitive as hell and too easy to rile up. Sometimes Stella and I used to take turns, seeing who could make him snap the quickest.

“We use the same tools, dipshit.”

“Right, sure. Mine are just bigger.”

“Jackass,” he mutters, wising up to my game. “You always do this.”

“And you always fall for it.”

He rolls his eyes and sinks deeper into the chair. “So how was your weekend?”

“What do you mean?” I know damn well what he means, but maybe if I play dumb, he’ll drop it.

“You literally spent one night at the lake and then dipped. I saw you for like five minutes and Stella was in a pissy mood and stayed up in her room pretty much the whole time.” He pins me with a glare and for a heart-stopping second, I think he’s on to me. “Y’all left me alone. With my parents. All weekend. Not cool.”

My pulse slowly returns to normal. “Sorry, man. I wasn’t feeling too good.”

“I thought you had to work.” He tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes.

I rub at the back of my neck. “Yeah, that’s what I meant. I felt bad I had to leave. To go to work.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a shit liar?”

I lean back into my chair and tilt my head his way. “Once or twice.”

Orion’s gaze intensifies. “Holy shit!” He’s looking at me like he can see my soul. It’s unnerving, and not at all the way I wanted this to go down. “Who is she?”

“I can explain—”

He cuts me off, grinning. Why in the hell does he look so happy right now, I figured he’d want to knock my lights out. “I bet you can. You’re obviously seeing someone.” He steeples his fingers under his chin. “The question is who?”

“No one.”

He lifts a brow, but I hold steady.

He tips his chin up at me, a sly look in his eyes, like he knows that I have a secret and he’s happy to help me keep it. “It’s on the down-low. Got it.”

I cough to hide my surprise. This conversation is so close to reality—too close—that it’s not even funny. “Got plans this weekend?”

“Not much. I’m meeting with Ben in a few hours to go over a project and I’ve gotta help Stella move some furniture at some point. Oh!” He smirks. “And I’m hitting up ATF tonight. You wanna come?”

“Pass.” I lean forward in disbelief. “You’re still hung up on Birdie?”

“Hell yeah. She’s...” he trails off.

I want so badly to give him shit over being hung up on his stripper, but I’m not any better with the way his little sister has me tied in knots.

“Laugh all you want. I’m going to marry that girl.”

“You know, right after you learn her real name.”

“Fucker,” he mutters right as his phone rings. He swipes his finger across the screen and brings the phone to his ear. “What’s up, Smalls?”

He cringes, and then asks, “Any way we can do it tomorrow?”

I slide my phone out of my pocket and tap around on the screen, trying to act like I’m not listening to their conversation. Well, the side of it I can hear anyway.

“No, I know I said I’d help you.” He snaps his index finger and thumb together. “I’ve got it. Don’t worry, Smalls. We’ll get it done.”

He ends the call and turns to me. “I need a favor.”

“What?”

“Stella needs me to help her at four, but I’ll still be with Ben. Could you...”

“Help your sister?” I nod, playing it cool. “Sure.”

“You’re a lifesaver. I already moved the meeting with Ben once.”

“You know y’all live together, right?”

Orion shrugs. “He’s weird about these things, likes to keep work separate from pleasure, or some shit.”

“Whatever works. Just let me know where to be for Stella and I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, man.” He forwards me the info. “I owe you one.”

I wonder how he’d feel if he knew my true motives?

“What are you doing here?” Stella asks before I can even fully exit my truck.

“How about thank you Samson for coming to help me, that’s so nice!”

She glares. “How about I didn’t ask for your help, so please get back in your truck and leave.”

I nudge the door shut with my hip and then lean back against it, crossing my arms over my chest. “How are you going to get... whatever that is home?”

“That,” she says, all sass, “is going to be a greenhouse for my dorm room.”

My lips twitch; at least her love for plants hasn’t changed. “It’s not going to fit in your car.”

“I’ll figure it out.” She crosses her arms over her chest, mirroring my pose.