Bringing Home the Bad Boy

by Jessica Lemmon

  “Ha-ha,” Lyon said, taking the teasing in good turn.

  “Your dad says you’ve been taking swimming lessons,” Patricia said.

  “Yeah!” Lyon explained the lake, the life vest, and a twenty-foot slide going into the deepest part of the lake nicknamed the Slide of Insanity, followed by mentioning he’d watched kids go down it but hadn’t tried yet himself. “Dad won’t let me.”

  “Your dad’s smart.” Pat winked at Evan. “We have a surprise for you, Lionel.”

  Lyon grinned. “What is it?”

  “Don’t tell him,” Cliff teased.

  “Poppa!” Lyon’s eyebrows frowned.

  His grandfather laughed. “I’ll give you a hint. It’s big and filled with water.”

  Lyon’s eyes widened before he guessed, “A swimming pool?” Then jumped up and down, jarring poor Terror some more. “Dad!”

  “I heard.” Evan took the fish from his exuberant son and slid the bag into the tank nestled in the crook of one arm.

  “And not one of those blow-up pools, or kiddie pools, either.” Cliff threw his arms out. “It’s huge! It even has a diving board.”

  “A diving board!” Lyon practically shouted.

  Pat stayed her husband with a hand. “You’re not ready for the diving board, yet, dear, but you can definitely swim in the pool.” To Evan, she said, “We also bought water wings and floatation devices. He’ll be totally safe.”

  “I know he will, Mom,” he answered easily.

  Hearing him refer to Pat as “Mom” made Charlie’s heart squeeze. Evan had lost his mother a few years back—cancer, also. Cancer was a bitch. It was good to see he’d gotten a second chance at a mom. Of course, Pat had been like her mom at one point, too, but Charlie had let herself grow apart from both Pat and Cliff. Maybe her distant family was to blame for that, too, but she thought it was probably the lack of knowing what to say after Rae passed.

  She still didn’t know what to say.

  “Lyon’s bags are at the house,” Evan said. “I’ll grab ’em if you guys want to hang here.”

  “Can I bring Terror to your house?” Lyon asked his Nonna.

  “No, bud,” Evan answered. “Terror has had a rough day. You can’t ask him to make a ninety-minute car ride on top of everything else.”

  Lyon looked worried but pragmatic when he looked from the fish to Charlie. “Will you make sure Dad doesn’t feed him too much so he won’t die?”

  She dropped her hand on Lyon’s head. “Yeah, buddy. I’ll make sure he doesn’t die.”

  Evan shot her a look that said she may be making a promise she couldn’t keep, and she realized she might be. If she had to replace Terror because he went to the big fishbowl in the sky, she’d have a heck of a time finding a goldish-brown, long-finned fish roughly the length of her thumb. Maybe once the Mosleys took Lyon, she’d go and see if the lady running the booth had Terror’s twin just in case.

  “All right. I’ll be back.”

  “Dad.” Lyon held his hands in front of him, the look on his face stunningly serious. “I have to set up Terror’s tank. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  Charlie stifled a giggle by covering her mouth.

  “Don’t you want to stay with Nonna and Poppa and show them the festival?”

  “No.”

  Patricia laughed, the musical sound reminiscent of Rae’s contagious laugh. Charlie thought that might be the reason she’d avoided the Mosleys. Everything about them reminded her of Rae. How did Evan do it? Be around them, around Lyon, without letting grief for Rae overtake him? Then she thought back to what he’d said to her in the studio.

  We deserve to be free. He’d embraced freedom for himself… could she?

  “Why don’t we come with you, help you set up Terror’s new home, and get your things?” Pat asked Lyon.

  “Okay!”

  “Charlie? Want to come with?” Evan tilted his head toward the cars parked along the street.

  She did. So much. But this was Rae’s family, and there was something intimate about the four of them doing the whole aquarium-setup thing together. “Can’t,” she white-lied. “I promised Gloria I’d meet up with her for a few. I should go find her.”

  He looked suspicious but she plastered the smile on her face, hoping to convince him she and Glo had become besties this afternoon. The lie was harmless, but necessary. She knew if she gave a plausible reason why she wasn’t going with him, he’d go without her.

  She was right.

  With kisses for both Pat and Cliff, Charlie promised to visit soon—and meant it this time. Then she hugged Lyon and told him to be careful and have fun. She nodded at Evan, but didn’t hug him—his hands were full of fish tank so it was a no-brainer as well as a relief. Showing him affection in front of his deceased wife’s parents would have been awkward.

  After they left, she set off by herself to peruse the artwork on display for the bid, admiring again the photo she’d donated and hoping it fetched a handsome price. Then she visited a few local vendors and meandered over to try the wine Jell-O shots she’d heard so much about. She didn’t drive herself here, and wasn’t planning to drive herself home, so she figured a few wine Jell-O shots wouldn’t be a bad idea.

  Until she ordered and ate one. Then she determined wine Jell-O shots were, in fact, a very bad idea. A very bad-tasting bad idea. As she was making a face and choking down the bitter, boozy shot—it was either swallow it or attempt to spit it into a public trash can buzzing with yellow jackets and flies—she heard Gloria call her name.

  Wiping her fingers over her mouth to make sure she didn’t have Jell-O on her face, she waved rather than spoke.

  “Where’re your boys?” Glo asked as she approached.

  Her boys. She really did like that. More than she should.

  “Setting up the tank for Lyon’s fish. Rae’s parents followed him over to help. They’re taking Lyon to their house for a few days.”

  “That’s wonderful. The Mosleys are great people.”

  Dang. She’d met the Mosleys, too?

  Gloria looped her arm in Charlie’s. “Relax. I was in Columbus, dropped in on Evan when they were there to see Lyon. You really need to stop seeing me as ‘the other woman.’ You have no one to compare yourself to, sweetie.”

  Except for Rae. The woman Evan fell in love with, chased, married, and created a baby with. Just her. No big deal.

  “Ash finished his acoustic version of ‘Unchained’ a few minutes ago.” This, Gloria said on a soft sigh. Her voice going gentle and funny in a way it definitely didn’t do when she talked about Evan.

  “I missed it.”

  “Well, I bet if you tell him, he’d play it for you at Salty Dog.”

  “Does he have a gig there?”

  “No. He has an appointment with a couple of guys named Jose and Cuervo.” Gloria started for the other side of the park. “And since you are unchaperoned, my dear, so do you.”

  * * *

  The sky was darkening, and the streetlamps had come on, along with the lights tied to strings that draped the festival in glowing garland. A few kids were meandering around with their folks, but from the look of most of it, families had given way to adults who had come out to party.

  Evan ambled past the stage where Asher had performed his solos earlier, and he paused for a minute to appreciate the foot-stomping, jig-dancing band playing what sounded like a cross between bluegrass and rock. Cool mixture.

  He’d stick around and listen longer, but he needed to find Charlie.

  Terror’s fish tank setup wasn’t difficult, but it required a lot of reading and, under Lyon’s close supervision, it required a lot of specific steps. He didn’t get his kid sometimes. Lyon could be a wild child full of energy, one who sometimes loved superheroes and other times loved football and soccer and anything with a ball, but also had a very precise, all-business side of him reminding Evan more of his cousin Shane or his brother Landon.

  Power to his kid if Lyon grew up to be like
his uncle or cousin. If Lyon evolved into a million- or billionaire, he could retire his old man to the good life. Evan was more a thousand-aire, like his other brother Aiden and his sister, Angel, but Evan could definitely afford a good life, if not the good life, and that was enough for him.

  After Terror was happily hiding behind his hot pink (really, Charlie?) castle, and the little blue air stone was bubbling away in a corner, Lyon watched him for a few minutes, tried to feed him—he’d been too traumatized to eat—and then Rae’s parents talked Lyon into getting his things and loaded him into the car.

  Lyon got a brief, wide-eyed look of worry the moment he was about to part. This was new. Normally, whenever he went to stay with anyone—Angel, Landon, or their dad, Mike—he’d eagerly load up, sometimes forgetting to tell Evan good-bye. Moving to Evergreen Cove affected both him and Lyon more than Evan had anticipated.

  Evan had simply smiled and buckled Lyon in. “You got this, buddy.” He hoped that was encouraging. He figured Lyon was nervous, but wasn’t about to cripple him by allowing him to super-glue himself to Evan’s side. He’d get used to being here, to having a new home. He’d adjust to school. Evan knew kids—Lyon’s school friends—who were wrapped in cotton batting and bubble wrap, and for good measure crammed into a giant plastic hamster ball, so if they bonked into the real world they wouldn’t get hurt.

  That kind of parenting was bullshit.

  Evan was raised with a firm word from Dad and gentle coaxing from Mom, and that was the way to go. He couldn’t fill the “mom” role alone, however, and he needed backup for that. Thank God for Patricia and Charlie. And Aiden and Landon, for that matter, who bent to Lyon’s will whenever he shot his uncles a dimpled grin.

  The thought made Evan grin. Lyon was in good hands. Patricia would give him too much sugar, and Cliff would let him sit up too late and watch TV when he shouldn’t, and he figured that was okay, too. They were Lyon’s Nonna and Poppa, and Evan was looking forward to having a beer with his buddies, and Charlie, and taking his first deep breath since he’d moved here.

  Music at Salty Dog was a far cry from the band on stage. Jimmy Buffett faded into a Bob Marley song and that faded into raucous laughter and the chatter of many drunken townsfolk. And it was still early.

  He weaved around picnic tables and waitresses and then spotted the back of Gloria’s sleek, black head and angled toward them. Glo, Ash, and Charlie sat at one of four high-top tables under the tiki-style roof, having garnered one of the best seats in the house—hell, at the entire festival.

  He figured Ash had used his smile and celeb status to get both the table, and permission to smoke, which he wasn’t doing at the moment but likely had been. Ash always smoked when he drank.

  Ash leaned over the table, pressed an index finger into it, and said something that made Charlie throw her head back and laugh. Evan stopped advancing and, for he didn’t know how long, simply watched her. Watched her toss her honey-blond hair, bat those huge hazel eyes, and part bee-stung lips into a soft smile he wanted to taste.

  Damn. She was gorgeous.

  Conversely, Glo sat ramrod straight, watching the exchange between the other two—and Ash’s attention locked on Charlie—with visible disdain. Glo’s red lips were twisted, her hand encircling a shot glass filled with golden liquor.

  Glo didn’t know Ash like he did. She didn’t realize that for Ash, Charlie was nothing more than a new set of attentive eyes and ears, eager to hear his stories for the first time, and ready to laugh loudly and generously when he told them. Glo didn’t have to worry about Ash moving in on Charlie any more than she had to worry about Evan moving in on her.

  It was clear she didn’t understand that.

  He put a hand on her back and stroked, greeting everyone with a collective, “Hey, guys.”

  “I was hearing more tales of the Penis Bandits,” Charlie said with great effort, and a slur. Ho, boy. What’d Asher do to his good girl?

  “Charlie Harris, are you drunk?” Evan teased.

  She laughed again, and he could see now from close up that yes, she was. Didn’t make her any less attractive. In fact, it made her more attractive. She wasn’t holding herself in check, instead lazily leaning on the tabletop, one hand propping up her chin, her eyes glazed, while Asher took advantage of her attention and told another tale of teenage debauchery from his and Evan’s “Penis Bandit” days.

  Evan used the lack of attention on him to lean in and speak to Gloria. “Just Ash being Ash, babe.”

  She turned and blinked at him, then lifted her drink. “Tequila?”

  “I’m driving. Better stick to beer.” He waved to a waitress, ordered a Bud, and slid onto the stool next to Gloria. He faced her, keeping his side to Charlie and Ash, though neither of them seemed to notice.

  Ash was animatedly telling the tale of how he’d stolen a boat from the marina, and Charlie’s big eyes got bigger than usual as she listened to the completely embellished tale. He claimed there was a joyride, but Evan knew the truth—he’d never made it farther than starting the boat before he was caught, and anyway, it’d been tied to the dock, so he wouldn’t have ridden anywhere except straight to juvie in the back of a cop car.

  The waitress handed off the bottle and Evan paid, tipped the beer to his lips, and downed several long drinks. “Ahhhh.”

  “You needed that?” Glo asked, her smile faint but present.

  “More than air.”

  “Kids. Exhausting.” She said this with a wrinkled nose, but she forgot he’d seen her with Landon’s and Kimber’s son—his nephew—and what he’d seen shocked him to no end. Despite her grumbling openly about children, Gloria was good with Caleb, and talked in a gushy, motherly, sweet tone he hadn’t known until that point she was capable of emitting.

  He took another drink of his beer and leaned in. “Hear you kissed.”

  She snapped her head to Ash, then Evan. Then her lips curved. “What’s it to you?”

  He shrugged with his shoulders and mouth. “Good?”

  The glance she sent Ash this time was so full of longing, it made Evan want to punch him in the throat. His friend was clueless. So clueless.

  “Really good.” She lifted her tequila and downed it.

  “And now?” He pretended to look around the bar, hoping Ash and Charlie wouldn’t notice this exchange happening a foot away from them. So far they hadn’t.

  “I’m waiting.”

  “Not like you, Glo.”

  She craned an eyebrow and it disappeared into her black bangs. “Right?”

  “Another Mad Cow Tini,” Charlie ordered.

  “Ace.”

  She blinked at him like she forgot he was there, which he didn’t like. “What?”

  She’d had too much already. He could see it. And there was an empty martini glass in front of her. Had she only had one? Rather than lecture her, he asked, “What’s a ‘Mad Cow Tini’?”

  She gestured sloppily at Asher. “Ash made it up. It’s blue curaçao, pineapple juice, tequila…” She ticked off each ingredient on her fingers.

  “Vodka,” Ash spoke up.

  “Vodka.” She ticked off that, too, then pointed at Ash and confirmed, “A splash of sprite, and a maraschino cherry.”

  Evan frowned at his friend. “Ash—”

  “I learned how to tie the stem into a knot with my tongue,” Charlie interrupted to announce proudly.

  His mind promptly entered the gutter. He turned toward the table to face her fully. Then his lowered brows went to Asher. Then he thought about punching him in the throat again as he envisioned a scene where Ash was in Charlie’s space, teaching her how to use her tongue to tie a cherry stem in a knot.

  “I taught her,” Glo said, and he felt his shoulders relax at the same time he saw Asher’s grin turn sinister.

  “That was quite a show, brother,” he told him. “You should be sorry you missed it.”

  Over the next two hours, Evan nursed another beer, then switched to water. Charlie, meanwhile, ha
d one more tequila shot and two Mad Cow Tinis, which, Glo informed him by her count, was four total.

  “I never puke,” Charlie stammered, then hiccupped. Then laughed. “But tonight, I might.”

  “You won’t puke,” Ash said. Glo and Evan had traded seats an hour or so ago and now, Ash threw his arm over Glo’s shoulder and rubbed. Glo, looking sober and like a kitten about to close its eyes and purr, leaned into Ash solidly.

  Evan felt his head shake. He really needed to have a talk with his buddy. What he was putting her through was hard to watch. If he didn’t like her, he shouldn’t lead her on. If he did, then he should lead her right out of this bar.

  Which was exactly Evan’s plan for Charlie. “She better not. Not in my car.”

  “I’m just sleepy.” Charlie hiccupped again. Then she smiled at him warmly… at least he hoped she was smiling at him. Her gaze fettered to the left and then back to him.

  “You’re a mess, Ace.” He chuckled.

  “I am?” Her face turned innocent and he could swear her concern sobered her some.

  “No, baby, you’re good. I’m teasing.”

  “Aww, you never call me baby,” Asher said. The ass. “Is it because we’ve never—”

  Glo stopped the stream of words with her fingertips when Evan had decided to make good on the mental throat-punch he’d entertained all evening. “Get her home,” she said. “I’ll take care of Asher.”

  “You bet you will, honey.” Ash moved her hand and kissed her fingertips.

  Evan took Charlie’s hand. “Purse, Ace.” His hand linked in hers, he pointed at the bag on one of the seats.

  “Oh, got it.” She held it to her chest and walked with him. She wasn’t staggering, but she wasn’t exactly walking a straight line. He dropped her hand and wound his arm around her waist instead, pulling her close enough to support her but giving her enough room to maneuver.

  The ride was short, and as Ash predicted, Charlie did not puke.

  “Did you lock up your house when you left, Ace?”

  They entered his kitchen, the only light coming from the range, which he’d left on. Terror’s tank was dark and the fish hovered in the center of the tank, his fins twitching, shockingly alive and well, as he watched from his watery home.