Dirty Little Secret

“Smalls has been acting like a spaz all night,” Orion says, plopping into his chair on the other side of the table.

“Is something bothering you?” Mom asks, while Dad looks on in concern.

“No.” I shake my head. “Nope. Everything is hunky dory.”

“You just said hunky dory.” My brother crosses his arms over his broad chest. “No one says that.”

He’s got me there, but instead of admitting defeat, I double down. “Clearly someone does.” I point both thumbs at my chest. “This girl!”

“You kids knock it off and fill your plates before it gets cold.” Mom hands Orion the serving spoon for the potatoes. “Where’s Samson at?”

My eyes widen, and then I realize she’s asking my brother and not me. But still, I lean in and listen intently as he answers.

“Said he was running late.”

“But he is coming, right?” I ask. Dammit, Stella!

“Yeah.” Orion drags the word out. “Why?”

I smile and stuff a roll into my mouth, mumbling a garbled reply around the buttery bread.

He rolls his eyes and mutters something about me being a weirdo under his breath.

“You two act the exact same now as you did a decade ago,” Dad muses, piling his plate high with roast.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Keeps me young,” is all he says in reply.

We fall into a comfortable silence as we eat, which is why the sound of the back door opening might as well be a landmine detonating.

“Samson’s here,” Orion mumbles around a bite of carrots.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, his lips tipped up into a charming smile. “Smells good, Mrs. C.”

Mom stands to hug him, and Dad to shake his hand. Orion remains seated, so I do too, not wanting to look weird.

“Hey, man,” Samson says, greeting my brother as he slips into the chair beside him. “How’s work?”

“Busy.” He takes a sip of his water. “Good but busy.”

“I hear ya. We’re breaking ground next week on that new high-rise in downtown and damn—sorry, Mrs. C—I’m already tired and we haven’t even started.”

Like an eager puppy, desperate for attention, I sit with a smile plastered across my face, waiting for him to speak to me. But… he doesn’t.

Not even a simple hello.

Once again, my favorite day of the week feels like hell on earth thanks to none other than Samson Carter. The sexy, stupid jackass.

“How’s school, Stella?” Mom asks, breaking me from my stewing.

“Great.”

“That’s good, and you like all of your classes?”

“They’re perfect.”

“Honey, are you okay?”

My eyes flit briefly to Samson. “Hunky. Freaking. Dory.”

Mom laughs nervously before turning her attention to the man responsible for my bad mood. “How was your date, Samson?”

His fork clatters to his plate as he chokes on his food.

Dad watches on with a peculiar look in his eyes while Orion pats Samson’s back and Mom rushes to pass him a glass of water.

“Yeah, Samson, how was it?” I ask, once he’s breathing regularly again.

He glares at me, but I just smile, content to let Karma do her work.

“Maria’s such a sweet girl.”

I tilt my head to the side, waiting to hear his reply.

“She was very nice, but I won’t be taking her out again.”

“I figured as much.” Mom nods along in understanding. “Well, when do I get to meet this mystery girl you’re seeing?”

“After me,” Orion mutters, digging his elbow into Samson’s side.

Dad snorts.

“What?” Mom asks.

“Nothing. It’s just… nothing.”

“Is everything okay?” I swivel to face my dad, but he just grins.

“I think everything’s exactly as it should be, Stelli Bear. Now, why don’t you go grab the apple pie your mom made and bring it to the table?”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Samson

I watch as Stella shoves her chair back from the table. “One pie coming right up!”

Every molecule of my being wants me to get up and follow her, to demand her attention, but I force myself to remain in my seat.

I made my bed when I walked in here and chose to ignore her, and now, unfortunately, I have to lie in it.

But damn if it doesn’t suck.

“So, man,” Orion says, pushing his plate away. “What’d you do after your date last night?”

I pray for patience as I massage my temples. Honestly, I can’t tell if he’s baiting me or genuinely wants to know.

Stella waltzes back in, looking like a domestic goddess with a pie dish in one hand and a container of homemade whipped cream in the other.

“It looks good, Mom,” she murmurs, but I’m too busy imagining this exact same scenario, fifteen years from now.

Only, we’re crowded around our table with a few kids of our own. The thought should scare me—she’s only eighteen for Christ’s sake.

But it doesn’t.

It feels too fucking right to scare me.

Life may have a lot of unknowns, but one think I’m certain of is this: Stella Cartwright is my future, and it’s about time I man up and let the world know.

Maybe asking her to hide us wasn’t the right idea. A woman like Stella deserves to be shown off—not kept a secret.