Bringing Home the Bad Boy (Second Chance #1)(12)

“Since when are you grossed out by airplane sex?” he asked.

She flipped her shiny black hair over her shoulder, lips dropping open in feigned offense. “What are you insinuating, Downey?”

“That you have sex on airplanes,” he deadpanned.

She sneered at him but didn’t deny it, he noticed before turning to watch the direction of the passengers filing toward them. “I really need him not to have any bad press this week.”

“Asher is a rock star, babe. He comes with bad press.”

At this, her lips pursed, a certain spark lighting her eyes. He’d seen the look on her face before. The night in Chicago they went out for drinks with the rest of her clients. She had treated, but the other four women and one man who’d joined them bailed before midnight. He and Glo had stayed to order another round. After that round, he took her to the dance floor and they danced slowly, and given the number of whiskey shots they’d done, probably badly. He’d kissed her. Under the pulsating lights and the fluctuating beat, he laid his hands on her hips and tasted those full, pouting lips for himself.

Sobriety never happened so fast.

She pulled her head away and he had done the same. And there, under the smoke and filtered light, they blinked at each other and laughed.

“Eww,” she’d said.

“That… wasn’t good,” he’d agreed.

They went back to drinking, shared a cab back to the hotel where he’d been rooming, and never, ever went there again. Gloria felt more like a sister, or a cousin, and he guessed she saw him the same way.

But that sparkle in her eyes since he mentioned Asher by name… no, that was something else. One dot connected to another in his head.

“You and Ash?”

“You’re high.”

“You’re dodging.”

They faced each other and her eyelids narrowed. “Didn’t we determine it’s a bad idea for me to get involved with my clients?”

“We determined it was a bad idea for you to get involved with me.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Talk to your brother Landon lately?” she asked, forcing a subject change.

He let her. “Yeah, why?”

“Kimber mentioned your new nephew has him wrapped in one tight little fist. Made me think of you and Lyon.”

Kimber, Landon’s wife, was Glo’s best friend, and if anyone asked Evan, the very thing that saved his brother from living life as a robot. Glo was right about Caleb, though. Landon and Kimber’s son had Landon under his pudgy thumb.

Evan had been like that with Lyon. He remembered how overwhelming and joyous those first months with a baby could be. His kid almost never slept and he and Rae were up a lot. When Rae took the night shift at the hospital, sometimes Evan didn’t sleep at all. Come to think of it, that was when he’d started painting at night. Lyon’s sleeplessness the perfect excuse for him to go to the empty back room, turn on some Aerosmith, and sing to his son while amusing him with bright colors on canvas.

“There he is. Finally,” Glo said.

Asher Knight emerged from a cluster of girls young and old, all smiles as he walked by. A duffel bag slung over his shoulder, Asher swaggered toward them wearing the required rock star attire of a threadbare black T-shirt, black jeans, and his signature black cowboy boots.

“I keep a close watch on this heart of mine…” Evan started singing.

Gloria chuckled.

“Because you’re mine,” he finished in a low baritone, “I walk the line.”

But Glo was no longer paying him any attention, eyes on Asher as she adjusted her low-cut top to be lower cut.

“Glo, babe, hold it together.” Evan earned a punch in the arm, but she put on a huge smile when Ash reached them.

Asher ran a hand through his shaggy dark hair, then pulled it down his weary face.

“Hey, Ash.” Her voice went breathy.

Good God. Can she pick ’em, or can she pick ’em?

“Hey, Sarge,” Asher returned. Her nickname since she’d signed him and began—as Ash put it—“barking orders” at him. Evan suspected he liked being “barked” at. The nickname was in no way an insult, seconded by Glo, who blushed.

Actually blushed. Unbelievable.

“You look like you need a massage and a good night’s sleep,” she observed, and Evan wondered if she was offering one or both.

“I need Jack Daniel’s and a bag of gummy bears,” he answered, his voice scratchy.

He jerked his chin at Evan. “Good to see you, brother.”

“Took you long enough to get here,” Evan said.

Asher popped him in the arm, the friendly tap five times harder than Glo’s full-on punch. “Layover was a bitch.”

She held up a hand. “If that’s a euphemism of some sort, I don’t want to know. I picked up the keys to your skank-free cabin and did a walk-through. See if you can keep it that way.”

Ash straightened and gave her a lazy salute. “Yes, sir.”

She lifted a black eyebrow, then turned for the exit. “Come on, boys.”

“We’re men,” Asher argued as he and Evan fell in line behind her out the door.

“Whatever,” she said without turning.

To Evan, he said, “Skank-free?”