Bringing Home the Bad Boy

by Jessica Lemmon

  Bummer.

  “You don’t want to have dinner with us?”

  Us. She liked that. “I don’t want you to have to wait on me.”

  “We can save you a plate.”

  We. She liked that, too.

  “I’ll grab a bite at the event.” In a nervous gesture, she pushed her hair behind her ear. “Really. It’s not a big deal.” It wasn’t, she didn’t think, but his face suggested he didn’t agree with that assessment.

  “What event?” he asked.

  “Policeman’s Ball.”

  “Seriously?”

  She nodded. “Mm-hmm. Every year. First time I was asked to do this gig. Could be good. If they like me, they might ask me back next year.”

  “ ’Course they’ll like you,” he said gently, and that made her tip her head the slightest bit closer.

  She’d promised Sofie to fill in for a last-minute photographer need, and her desperate-for-a-photographer friend had been over the moon, promising to double her pay (Charlie refused) and take her out for dessert after (Charlie had accepted).

  “Stop by when you get in.” He dropped a kiss on her lips.

  “I might be late.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  Oh boy, she liked that too, too much. How was she supposed to get things back to normal when he kept insisting on moving the “normal” boundaries closer and closer to himself?

  She chewed her lip and shot a glance to the door. “I’d better go get ready.”

  “Taking Lyon school shopping tomorrow. Interested?”

  She shook her head. “Tomorrow’s not good for me. I’m sorry.”

  “Not a big deal.” He shrugged and she could tell he meant it.

  “Are you going to go… alone?” When her father took them school shopping, he used to hand Charlie and Dani each a wad of money and tell them, “When it’s gone, it’s gone,” then drop them at the mall and tell them to take the bus home.

  Not surprisingly, Evan was way more present than her father had been, but men and clothes shopping? In her mind, never the twain shall meet.

  He lifted a very sexy dark eyebrow. “Yeah. Why?”

  She swept aside the notion that shopping was a woman’s job and realized that in Evan and Lyon’s world, there had been only them for a while. They were self-sufficient, these Downey boys. Which apparently included laundry, cooking, and school clothes shopping.

  “Nothing. Have fun.”

  “See you tonight,” he said.

  “It’ll be late,” she said to his back.

  Without turning he confirmed. “Tonight, Ace.”

  * * *

  The ball was a success. There were lots of well-dressed policemen in attendance. Sofie had gone on a blind date with one of them—Officer Brady Hutchins. He was a good-looking guy. Head full of blond hair, full lips, broad shoulders. According to Sofie, their date was “nice,” but neither of them had felt the spark.

  And didn’t Charlie know just what her friend meant by that? Now that Evan had set her panties on fire more than once, she could see the lack of spark in every relationship she’d had in the past.

  After the ball, Sofie and Charlie retreated to a nearby, all-night diner to feast on hot fudge sundaes and French fries.

  It didn’t take long for Charlie to spill about Lyon’s stitches, the trip to Rae’s parents’ house, and the way she’d spent last night curled into Evan.

  “You have the blessing from Rae’s mom!” Sofie’s face had turned to sweet, soft perfection. “Embrace this, Charlie. Embrace the gift of the people who love you most saying it’s okay for you to be in love with Evan.”

  “I’m trying,” had been her parting comment.

  Full of trans-fats and exhausted, Charlie returned home, kicked off her heels, and flexed her tired feet on the floor.

  She filled a glass with water and drank it. Her eyes automatically slid out her kitchen window, past the neighbors’ house, and to Evan’s studio. The lights were on and she could imagine him perched in front of a large canvas.

  “Embrace it,” she mumbled to herself.

  Those words, and wanting to see him in his element in the calm of two a.m., had her reaching for her camera bag, spinning on her favorite lens, and heading straight to him. If she was lucky, he’d left the door open and she might be able to get a few shots in before he noticed she was there.

  Luck was on her side.

  The side door was unlocked, so she slipped into the laundry room. And, having left her shoes off, tiptoed barefoot across the hall and to the studio’s doorway. He had earbuds in, head bobbing as he mixed paint on a tray in one hand.

  Charlie lifted the camera to her eye and peered through it, sweeping the room and adjusting the focus on the canvas she’d requested he burn. The one smeared with paint from their bodies; the one they’d rolled around on while kissing and laughing.

  True to his word, he’d kept it, adding more brushstrokes to hide what it actually was. To be fair, it did look more like a work of art and less like impressions of their nude bodies. But she knew what to look for—and could easily see a butt cheek here, a nipple there… oh yeah. The sex was still there.

  With a shake of her head, she returned to her viewfinder and zeroed in on the sexiest painter she’d ever seen.

  One of his legs was straight out, heel to the floor, the other foot balanced on the wheels of the stool. The canvas in front of him featured Swine Flew, goggles on, cape flapping behind him, wearing a stars and stripes outfit reminiscent of Evel Knievel.

  Behind Swine was Mad Cow, chomping on what looked like a stalk of wheat and scowling, obviously trailing at a slow pace rather than follow Swine’s frantic jog. She snapped a few photos of Evan, praying he wouldn’t see her too soon so she could get a few unplanned shots.

  She got five, six if she counted the one when he turned, brows raised, paintbrush elevated, a slightly surprised expression on his handsome face. And she did count it, because she’d bet it was the best one.

  She snapped one more when a crooked smile lifted half his mouth, but that one was for her. The smile, and the photo.

  “Ace.”

  Lowering the camera, she found him still smiling, now swaggering toward her in a bad-boy strut similar to his bovine twin behind him.

  “You are Mad Cow. It’s official.”

  He scowled at her, his impression of his cartoon. She laughed.

  Scooping her up in his arms, he hugged her close.

  He felt good. So, so good. She held him.

  “Thought you weren’t coming,” he said into her hair.

  “I’m not… yet,” said some errant part of her brain.

  Normally, when she wasn’t around Mr. Never Censors Himself, she didn’t talk like that. She liked the reaction it received, however, since she was now being kissed deeply, with tongue, an accompanying growl sounding in the back of his throat.

  “That’s my girl.” His voice was rough, his hold extra tight.

  “About staying…” She pushed on his shoulder to step away from him.

  He didn’t budge.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t.”

  Tighter arms. “Yes. You are.”

  “Lyon—”

  “Is asleep.”

  “Knows we’re getting close,” she finished.

  “So?”

  “So? You don’t think it’s confusing for him to see me as your latest girlfriend?”

  Evan’s arms loosened. His scowl was now his own and not for show. And not nearly as fun as it had been a moment ago. She supposed she could have eased into that observation, but she’d crashed in with it, much like Swine Flew.

  “I didn’t mean that. I just meant I’m not Rae.”

  She watched as his scowl scowled. “I know you’re not Rae. Lyon knows that, too. He loves you because you’re you.”

  Her throat closed. Partially because he’d said Lyon loved her for her, and partially because she wondered if Evan was about to tack on that he, himself, might be suffering the similar pl
ight of loving her for her.

  Or, she could be blowing things out of proportion. She wondered if she blew things out of proportion more often than she acknowledged. Not in an overreacting kind of way, but in an underreacting one. Like the Rae thing. She’d built it so big in her head she’d failed to see any of the reality in front of her face.

  The fact that Evan and his in-laws were very close. The fact that Lyon loved her. The fact that the Mosleys loved her and loved Evan and were supportive of her horning in on Rae’s family. Except no one saw it that way.

  Charlie had gotten so used to getting out of the way, she’d done it without question.

  Definitely out of proportion.

  Evan palmed her head and forced her gaze to his turquoise eyes, then delivered a blow covered in softness, causing her breath to exit her lips on a disappointed sigh.

  “I’d love to make another painting with you, Ace.” He stroked his fingertips into the thickness of her hair. “Especially tonight. Hell, you look amazing.”

  That wasn’t what caused the disappointment. The disappointment came next.

  “But, next time we throw down, you do the throwing.”

  She licked her lips and shook her head as she thought about what he said. “Sorry?”

  He didn’t correct her, didn’t scold her for “apologizing,” instead he accepted it, which was kind of worse.

  “You look hot, Ace.”

  Not an answer, but the way he’d said the word hot reminded her of all the other hot things they’d done together, and she forgot she’d asked a question. His hands skimmed the length of her tasteful black dress, over her ribs and back before settling on her hips. The throb between her legs intensified.

  “Gonna quit forcing you to fit,” he said in a low, sexy murmur. “I made you come here. Glad you did. You think Lyon doesn’t want you here, but babe, he and I cleared that up.”

  They did?

  “You did?”

  He didn’t answer that, either. “But right now, your grief for Rae is talking louder than me. So loud, Ace, you’re not hearing me,” he finished on a whisper, his hold loosening on her body.

  No, not loosening.

  Letting go.

  Was he done trying?

  “I’m here when you’re ready,” he said, which was less reassuring when she wasn’t being held tightly against him. “Go home, sleep in your own bed. Wake up in your own bed. See if you like it better than mine.”

  She already knew the answer. She wouldn’t.

  “Ev—”

  “No excuses, no apologies. You’re not on vacation, either. It’d do me good to remember that. You have a home, work, a life separate from ours. A lot to do.”

  She did, but that didn’t mean the Downeys didn’t fit into it.

  What. Was. Happening?

  “I’ll walk you home.” He turned her toward the studio doorway and swatted her rear end lightly.

  “Lyon…” she started.

  The video baby monitor appeared in front of her face, showing Lyon, his hair much shorter, sprawled on his bed, arms thrown overhead, sawing logs.

  “Got it covered.” Evan preceded her to the door and opened it. “You need to worry about you for a while, Ace. Let the rest of us worry about us.”

  * * *

  Evan didn’t know if this was the push Charlie needed, but he did know constantly browbeating her into making love with him or sleeping next to him was not gonna be the norm.

  So.

  He was trying something new, thanks partly to a suggestion from Gloria.

  She’d crashed into his house today all atwitter, arms in the air, her sleek black hair falling down her back. She clicked her way through the wood floors on high heels, dressed in a short skirt and ripped tee—her Evergreen Cove wardrobe, he was seeing—and shouted, “Rolling freaking Stone, baby!”

  Then she’d grabbed up Lyon, who had been trying to build a Lego fort, and said, “Dance with me!” He did, giggling. She let him go quickly and studied his stitches, letting him explain there were “one hundred” and that they were “super cool.” Glo, being Glo, didn’t question any of it, agreeing, “One hundred stitches are not only super cool, Lyon. They are chick bait.”

  “Glo.”

  “What?”

  “He’s seven.”

  “So?” She’d propped her hands on her hips. “He’s going to be hot like his daddy. Hot with two Ts. I’m preparing him.”

  “Hot with… Never mind,” he’d said, wisely changing his mind on asking for further clarification. He didn’t want to know.

  After she calmed down, Evan had made Lyon swear he would never, ever, ever, refer to himself as “chick bait” lest he wind up single and alone for the remainder of his days. Glo took a stool at the breakfast bar where Evan was making sandwiches.

  “Turkey or ham?” he offered.

  “I ate.”

  “Tell me what you’re prattling about.” He cut his and Lyon’s sandwiches into triangles and added Cheetos to the plates. She accepted the bag and ate several before answering.

  Lyon took his food into the living room. Evan let him. If only to allow him to be clear of Gloria’s spastic energy for the moment.

  “Rolling Stone,” she said, fanning fingers coated with Day-Glo orange dust.

  He took a huge bite out of his sandwich and waved at her to go on. “And?”

  “Asher got the cover! They want to interview you both!”

  “Ash is going to be on the cover of Rolling Stone?”

  His friend had wanted that since Knight Time landed their hit song. Ash had been disappointed when success hadn’t propelled them to the cover of the mag. The continued popularity of the song, paired with a hit children’s book, however…

  “No shit.” Evan shrugged his eyebrows and took a bite.

  “I tried to get you on the cover, too, but it was a no-go.”

  Chewing his sandwich, he thought about what she’d said. He’d never expected to be on the cover of a magazine, and decided right then he didn’t want to be. “I’m good,” he commented, eating a handful of Cheetos.

  “Okay, good. They’re flying out here to do the interview since Ash is staying a while.”

  “How long are you staying?” he asked.

  She hadn’t looked at him when she answered. “Probably as long as Asher.”

  Really.

  “You guys fight like two cats in a sack,” he pointed out.

  “I fight with everyone.”

  True. But with Asher, Gloria looked hurt by it.

  “He’s my biggest client right now,” she covered, laying it on thick with, “no offense.”

  He polished off his sandwich and Cheetos while she discussed the details about Rolling Stone and glossed over any details about her and Asher. Probably wasn’t a good topic to launch into with his kid in the room, anyway. Evan didn’t need to hear about their sexcapades.

  In the studio, he showed off his latest illustration. With a shake of her head, Glo bolstered his spirits. “I knew when I saw your work you were talented. I knew it. And then to have Ash step in to pen the books…” She grinned over at him, her blue eyes going soft. “Sometimes things work out even when you don’t expect them to.”

  He suspected she was talking about more than his involvement with Mad Cow and Swine Flew, but kept that to himself.

  “How are you and Charlie? How was the trip to Rae’s mom and dad’s house?”

  He filled her in, not leaving out the part where Charlie had tried to dump him on the deck and the way he’d gone to her after. He told Glo about Patricia, who let Charlie know this morning where she and Cliff stood. Evan knew where they stood. Charlie harbored major guilt over Rae’s death and over what was developing between them. He’d told Pat and Cliff as much while Charlie showered.

  Pat got it right away. Cliff nodded, agreed “we love Charlie,” then escaped the emotions in the room with Lyon in tow to wax poetic about his toy car collection.

  Glo had chewed her lip while he
spoke, looking indecisive.

  “Much as I love the two of you together…”

  Did she? News to him.

  “… I have to say, you need to give the poor girl some time to process. Her ex left her for another woman, and married that woman instantly. As one who understands abandonment,” Glo said, pressing her nails to her chest, “I can tell you, she needs time to deal.”

  “She can deal with me close by,” he’d argued.

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Glo had stepped in close and put a hand on his upper arm. “I’m a girl who knows what it’s like to be alone. I need my space. When you’re used to dealing with things by yourself, it’s easier to deal with them by yourself.” She’d dropped her hand, her gentle moment over almost as soon as it began. “Besides, she doesn’t need you going all caveman and dragging her back to your house by the hair. You can’t fix it for her.”

  He knew that. Hell, he’d told Charlie that.

  Now, walking along the beach next to Charlie, her pace leisurely, her eyes turned upward, he followed her gaze. Stars twinkled in the vast dark sky and the moon sat fat and round, illuminating everything in a bluish glow.

  He considered this whole “space” thing and came to the conclusion Glo had a point. He had four years of space to deal with who he’d become after Rae passed. Aside from the times Charlie had visited Columbus, she’d had hardly any time to deal with him.

  So. Space.

  At her back porch, he stopped short of climbing her stairs. He watched her do it, though, appreciating the tight black dress cupping her ass. Man, he wanted her tonight.

  Camera in hand, she spun and snapped another picture of him. He pressed his fingers over his eyes as the flash all but blinded him.

  “Warn me, Ace.”

  “Sorry about—”

  “Ace.”

  “Sorry.”

  He smiled when she winced. She may get her space, but he wouldn’t leave her hanging. “Get your ass back down here and kiss me.”

  Happily she obliged him, and he waited as she came down one step, then another, stopping short of coming to ground level where he stood. Her face aligned with his perfectly from the second step and made it extra easy for him to palm her ass as he made out with her long and slow. If she wasn’t going to be in his bed, the least he could do is send her to her room distracted and damp.