Asher was far less intense, leaning more toward mischief than meanness. Proof in the fact they’d sneaked out one night to the library and covered the brick walls in anatomically correct graffiti. He’d never forget the newspaper headline that weekend: PENIS BANDITS STRIKE! Or the combination of terror and joy he’d felt when he heard his mother gasp, followed by the laughter she and his dad hadn’t been able to repress.
Evan hadn’t seen much of Ash since Ash had made something of himself, but out of nowhere, a call came from fellow Penis Bandit turned “rock god”—Asher’s words—that his band, Knight Time, had an upcoming show nearby.
He hadn’t hesitated inviting his buddy over.
Within thirty seconds, they were back where they were years ago, recanting the past while Evan touched up a tattoo for him. When Evan mentioned his recent foray into illustration, Asher admitted he’d been entertaining the idea of writing a children’s book.
Evan’s response had been, “You?” He’d watched Ash on stage, screaming his lungs out, and the turnstile of women he’d been seen with since his rise to fame. “Kid-friendly” didn’t exactly describe his buddy. “The hell do you know about children’s books?”
“What the hell do you know about illustrating?” Asher had shot back, followed by the very valid point of, “You can’t write for shit. I write songs for a living.”
That’s when The Adventures of Mad Cow had started. Over the next two days, they conceptualized a story and Evan dug in on the concept. A badass bovine was born.
Mad Cow longed to break free from the farm before he became a double cheeseburger, and they’d matched him with a troupe of oddball, big-hearted animals who agreed to help.
When Gloria laid eyes on Mad Cow, his leather collar decked out with a row of cowbells, a ring through one nostril, gauged ears, tattoo of a weather vane on one bicep, she was sold.
Lucky for them, so was the publisher.
The book hit shelves in spring, surprising no one more than Evan by climbing the best-seller lists, which prompted the publisher to ask for a second book.
Asher was due to arrive in Evergreen Cove soon to help conceptualize the new book, which he’d explained to Evan was a revamped Batman and Robin situation. Mad Cow was getting a superhero sidekick.
Swine Flew.
But of course.
Unfortunately, Swine wasn’t coming together as easily as his counterpart. Evan groused down at the pile of papers, unsatisfied.
Like. At all.
Well. Hell. He’d have to hit it again later. His stomach was rumbling.
Lifting from his chair, he crossed the studio and paused to look out the windows. He took in the lapping shore, sand, and trees. Gorgeous here. Peaceful, quiet, and since it was summer, had the enviable location of being close to the water.
He pulled in a breath, vowed to get back to work after lunch, and started to step away when his eyes caught sight of one very curvy blonde lying on the dock, sunbathing.
Damn.
A long, narrow staircase led down the hill to the shared dock between his and Charlie’s house. The dock was supposed to be private, only used by Evan, Charlie, or their mostly absentee neighbors. Neighbors he hadn’t met. Neighbors, he was told, who were in their sixties.
The chick on the dock was not in her sixties.
Here he’d thought there wouldn’t be any hot, available women in this vacation town. Given they were on a private beach, that must mean the gorgeous creature sunning herself not far from his window lived around here.
One could hope.
Before he could head to the kitchen, an exuberant seven-year-old entered the scene outside, running out to the dock to greet her.
“Ah, shit.”
His boy knew not a stranger.
Evan slipped on a pair of flip-flops before rushing out the door, down the beach, and to the dock to retrieve his kid. Lyon was jabbering away about something, his voice carrying on the wind.
A few steps on the wooden dock, Evan opened his mouth to get Lyon’s attention when the blonde turned her head. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth for a second as his eyes traveled down her body and back up in disbelief.
Charlie?
She beamed up at him, squinting behind big, round sunglasses. “Hey.”
Barely dressed in a skimpy, hot-pink string bikini, her lush breasts were on display, her slim stomach and thick thighs bare and tanned. He realized belatedly he was staring at parts of her he’d never thought to admire before—and God, there was a lot to admire. She looked like a centerfold.
Her eyebrows rose the slightest bit as her smile faded.
Forcing himself to speak and stop being a creeper, he dipped his chin in greeting. “Ace.”
Her smile returned. “I was asking Lyon if he knew the names of the neighbors yet.”
Again, it hit Evan that when he was in the house, he’d thought Charlie might be a neighbor he’d like to get to know. Nothing much threw him anymore, but that displaced surge of attraction had. It still rumbled beneath the surface. Not good.
He redirected his attention to what he could handle—his son. “Hey, bud, what’d I say about getting too close to the water?”
“Dad. Charlie’s here.”
“Yeah, I see that.” She was all he could see at the moment. “And I’m sure she doesn’t want to be bothered every time she’s outside.”
“He’s okay.” Lounging, leaning on one elbow, she put a hand on Lyon’s arm.
He turned to his son, and away from Charlie’s incredible body, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Lionel.”
“Okaaaay.” Exasperated, as per his usual.
“Why aren’t you supposed to be down here?” Evan asked him.
“Because I haven’t had swimming lessons yet. But I can swim,” he insisted.
Lyon could doggie paddle. He couldn’t “swim.” Evan speared him with a look.
Charlie intervened. “When are your lessons?”
His kid stopped frowning at him and smiled at her instead. “Tomorrow!”
“Sounds promising,” she said, lightening the mood between father and son. It was new to have the tension erased. Maybe living nearer to her would have more benefits than Evan had first imagined.
“For now, stay off the dock,” he told his son. “The shore is fine, though.”
“Okay,” Lyon said, not sounding okay at all.
“Why don’t you bring your paper and markers out to the beach?” Maybe that’s what he should do. Despite the wall of windows letting in natural sunlight into his studio, Evan had been cooped up indoors all day. “I’ll get my stuff and join you.”
“I hate drawing.” Lyon dragged his feet. Evan felt his head shake.
He knew this, of course, but it hadn’t stopped him from trying to get his kid to show an ounce of interest in the very thing making Evan’s world go round.
“I’m gonna watch TV.” Lyon tromped up the dock, and Evan turned to Charlie, gesturing with an arm in the direction of his argumentative son.
“Ouch,” she said, but not out of sympathy. The tilt of her lips clearly showed amusement.
“First football, then superheroes, now swimming. How did Rae give birth to a sports nut?” She’d hated sports and Evan, at best, was ambivalent.
Charlie pushed her sunglasses into her blond hair and peered up at him, her hazel eyes scrunched.
“What are you doing out here, anyway? Playing hooky?” he asked. Like him, she worked from home.
He leaned a hip on the railing running along one side of the dock. She sat up, pushing off her elbows and bending her long, long legs to one side.
Incredible.
Again, it shocked him to notice. He’d always known she was attractive—far too attractive for that toad, Russell, she used to date—but he’d never noticed as much as he was noticing now.
“I work better at night.” She pushed the length of her hair off her shoulder where it slid like silk. “What about you? Shouldn’t you be illustrating?�
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“I work better at night, too.” Not that last night had been productive by any stretch of the imagination.
“Why don’t you work at night then?”
Now she was giving him hell. Back on familiar ground.
“Because my son won’t let me sleep until noon.”
Knowing he was needling her, her mouth dropped open. “Hey! I was up by eleven thirty today, thank you very much.”
He knew. He’d spotted her on her deck, nursing a cup of coffee and staring out at the lake. He’d been in lunch mode, slapping bologna onto bread and starting load number three of laundry. In short, avoiding the studio.
“Live it up, Ace.” His eyes went to a boat docked in the distance, to the guy on his deck watering a plant that looked questionably legal. Reminded him of the time the three of them—Donny, Ash, and himself—tried to steal a boat from the dock. Morons.
“I can help, you know.”
His eyes snapped back to her. “Help with what?” Inappropriate ideas popped into his head, causing a rogue smile to pull his lips, but he managed to bite his tongue.
“Lyon. He can sunbathe with me, help me develop photos, go with me to the grocery. And you can work.”
“Not gonna happen, Ace.” His creative mind kicked into third gear at one in the morning, but that didn’t mean he’d give into the temptation.
He knew the price of getting to the zone-out stage. Locking himself in the studio at night. Music pumping into his head, the hours flying by, time ceasing to exist. In those dark hours, art became his drug, dragging him away from the real world rife with grief and responsibility and into a world where the only things that mattered were paint and canvas and color. Problem was, when he resurfaced, the real world waited to flay him, claws bared.
There was no true escape.
Didn’t make her offer any less tempting, but he brushed it aside. The price was too high to give into the beast that stalked him when the moon came out.
He pushed off the railing.
“I’m coming, too. Help me up.” Charlie held out a hand and he reached for her palm and pulled her up. She stood gracefully, coming to his shoulders, and tipped her head. In the breeze, her fair hair blew, and the warmth of her fingers wrapped around his made his head swim the slightest bit.
“Thanks,” she breathed.
“Welcome,” he said, amused when his voice came out in a growl. His next words didn’t stay in his mouth. “Packing a lot of heat there, Ace.”
His gaze trickled down to her breasts, bursting out of her bikini top. When he reached her face, he saw that her eyebrows had closed in slightly.
“Thought you were some hot local chick. I came down here to ask you on a date.”
She blinked at him, big hazel eyes going bigger.
Now that he considered it, he realized she was a hot local chick. Charlie and hot hadn’t exactly been synonyms in his mind. Until now.
Her laugh didn’t sound a hundred percent genuine, and he guessed the reason was shock over hearing he saw her as a hot chick. Couldn’t be helped. He’d never seen her this undressed before.
More’s the pity.
A strand of hair blew over her face and he reached to move it aside, skimming the piece behind her ear.
“You could send a seven-year-old straight into puberty in an outfit like that. And a full-grown man into a cold shower.”
Her smile faltered slightly, but before he became sure he’d pushed her too far, she laughed, the sound more natural than before.
“I’d talk.” She tipped her head toward one of his arms, then the other. “How many tickets to the gun show are you selling, anyway?”
“Enough for you and two of your friends.”
She shook her head but grinned.
He grinned back.
Her eyes went to her house. “Gotta go. I’m expecting a package.”
He smirked. “A ‘package,’ Ace?”
She rolled her eyes. “Pervert.”
“You said it.”
Collecting her towel and book, she shuffled into a pair of hideous pink Crocs and wiggled her amazing ass up the dock. “Talk to you later!” she called over her shoulder, looping the towel around her hips.
Shame.
Could’ve watched that ass a while longer.
CHAPTER FOUR
Oh! Oh, that’s perfect.”
Sofie Martin stood from the chair she’d been sitting in and held both hands in front of her like she was stopping traffic.
Faith Garrett turned her head, her long, plaited, light blond braid swishing against her crisp cotton shirt. “What? What did I do?”
“It’s going to be so pretty!” Sofie clasped her hands in front of her face. She pinned Charlie with jade green eyes gone soft. “Tell me you’re getting this.”
Laughing, Charlie returned her eye to the viewfinder of her camera. “Almost,” she told her, then instructed Faith. “Keep walking,” followed by, “Lift the tray a little higher.” She adjusted the focus. “Little bit higher… there. Right there.”
She snapped a few more pictures of Faith in her waitress costume: white shirt, black pants, jaunty bow tie, holding a silver tray filled with mini-cheesecake bites from the local bakery, Sugar Hi.
Knowing the Evergreen Club had only given them an hour to use the empty reception hall, they had to hustle. Charlie had already taken the photos of Sofie and had quite a few good ones. Helping was Sofie’s curvaceous body bedecked in a clingy, but professional, short black dress, and the shine coming off her shoulder-length mahogany hair.
“Can we eat these now?” Faith asked of the tray of miniature cheesecakes balanced on one hand.
“Yes, please,” Charlie agreed while scrolling through the digital photos on her camera.
“I’m dieting,” Sofie said, but sat at the empty round table at the same time Charlie and Faith did. Charlie plugged the camera into her laptop and pulled up the photos so they could all see. “Can you Photoshop my ass so it looks smaller?”
“Shut up.” Faith shoved a mini-cheesecake in her mouth and elbowed Charlie. “Are you hearing this?”
“Sofe, how do you think you landed the USO event you planned over the spring? Because Jim Rivers thinks you’re drop-dead gorgeous,” Charlie supplied before she could answer.
“Jim Rivers.” Sofie scrunched her face. “Ewww.”
Faith reached for another cheesecake. “It’s true. I’ll never have your ass.”
Sending a longing look at the tray, Sofie muttered, “I wish you could have it. I’d so give it to you.”
Charlie met Sofie a few years ago at the furniture store where Charlie worked at that time. Sofie had just founded her party-planning company, Make It an Event. Charlie had just made the vacation house her permanent residence and, needing part-time work, had snapped up the sales job.
Sofie came into the shop looking to furnish her new storefront on Endless Avenue, and Charlie visited Make It an Event to give her recommendations. She and Sofie spent as much of the afternoon yakking as they did decorating. Sofie learned Charlie took photos for fun and encouraged her to look into selling her services. And when Charlie wasn’t sure she was good enough to get paid for her photography, it was Sofie who’d hired her first.
They’d been inseparable since.
“How many calories do you think are in one of these?”
“Seriously, sweetheart, if you bemoan the fat and calories one more time, I’ll eat the entire tray,” Faith said.
Charlie lifted a cheesecake bite and let the creamy, tart morsel melt on her tongue. “Faith is right. This is worth it.”
With a quirk of her lips, Sofie reluctantly reached for one and nibbled.
Faith rolled her eyes at Charlie, making her smile. She’d met the svelte, tanned, graceful-limbed Faith Garrett at Sofie’s apartment a few years ago. The woman who could double for a runway model was so easy to like, Charlie couldn’t hate her for her metabolism and good genes.
Faith worked at Abundance Market,
overseeing the beer and wine department. To Charlie, she seemed as bored by her job as by her fiancé, the regional manager. The former she knew because Faith repeatedly mentioned how boring her job was, and the latter, because whenever the topic shifted to Michael, Faith changed it to talk about wine or beer instead.
“We should have gotten a few Devil Dogs,” Faith said, picking up another mini-dessert.
“Those are so fatten—erm—delicious,” Sofie corrected with a bright smile.
“What’s a Devil Dog?” Charlie asked.
Faith’s eyebrows rose.
The last bite of Sofie’s cheesecake hovered an inch from her mouth. “Are you serious?”
“I’m not much of a sweets person.”
Faith looked at Charlie like she’d announced she was a white supremacist. “I don’t understand.”
“The Devil Dog is a chocolate-dipped cake—”
Faith cut Sofie off with a karate chop to the air. “Two layers of chocolate cake sandwiched together with cream frosting in the middle, then dipped in dark chocolate.”
Charlie pressed her lips together to keep from giggling.
“Dark chocolate,” Sofie repeated reverently.
“Well. We must get one of these Devil Dogs.”
“One for each of us,” Faith reiterated.
“Not me. I have to work off the extra seven pounds I gained over the winter.” She dipped her chin at Faith. “I don’t have your height to disguise the gain.”
No one did. Faith was hovering around five-ten, several inches over both Sofie and Charlie.
“Eat.” Charlie pushed the tray toward Sofie.
“One’s my limit.”
“Sofie,” came Faith’s scolding tone. “I’ll eat them all if you don’t help.”
“I’ll help.” Charlie popped another cheesecake into her mouth, this one dripping with a sugary cherry drizzle.
“Fine,” Sofie acquiesced, reaching for another.
“There isn’t a part of your body you should be ashamed of.” Charlie licked a drop of cherry drizzle off her thumb. “At least you don’t look like a porn star in a bikini.”
Sofie choked back a laugh.
“It’s true! I’d kill for a normal size pair of boobs instead of a pair of double-Ds sitting distractedly on my chest.”
Bringing Home the Bad Boy Page 3