Bringing Home the Bad Boy (Second Chance #1)(23)

“The queen,” Lyon answered.

“Man after my own heart,” Ash said.

“I think she looks like Mom.”

Evan felt his face go numb. He and Asher exchanged glances.

“Aunt Charlie gave me a picture of her in a long, white dress wearing a crown.”

Wedding photo.

“The queen has a dress like that,” Lyon said, then took a bite out of the middle of his sandwich.

Asher reached into his bag and pulled out a cell phone. “Well, this I have to see,” he said, followed by, “After I download it, will you show me how to play?”

Lyon’s eyes lit, happiness evident in everything from his posture to his animated voice. “Yeah! And then you can join my clan!”

To which Asher uttered a flattered-sounding, “Really? Me?”

Evan watched the exchange, and Asher connect with his flesh and blood, and realized that he’d shrugged off his son’s passion much like Rae had ignored his—overlooking the fact that Lyon’s borderline obsession for that game had something to do with his mom.

Evan’s fault for burying the pictures of Rae in the first place.

Fuck.

He watched, with a hint of jealousy, badass, rock god Asher Knight and his kid lean over Asher’s cell phone as Lyon described the rules of the game.

Dedicated badass and good with his kid.

Two things Evan had yet to pull off simultaneously.





CHAPTER EIGHT




Can Charlie come swimming with us, Dad?”

He debated his son’s request, unsure how to answer. On the one hand, she might like a chance to take a break and swim with them, and he certainly wouldn’t mind seeing her in a bikini. On the other, after the night he’d wandered onto her porch, inviting her was playing with fire.

“Who’s she talking to?” Lyon had his beach towel around his neck and his hand wrapped around the strap of the packed beach bag resting on the floor by his feet.

“Buddy, get your sunglasses. And put on your flip-flops.” What he didn’t need was Lyon forgetting something and having to come back to the house to get it. Granted, the dock wasn’t that far away considering it was between his house and Charlie’s, but it was a long way to go when he could just get his shit together now—

“I don’t know that guy.”

“It doesn’t matter who it—” he stopped himself as his son’s words sank in. Guy? He walked to the window where Lyon stood peeking out. “What guy?”

“That guy.” Lyon tapped the glass.

Sure enough, there was “a guy” standing at Charlie’s back porch, gesturing at what, he couldn’t tell.

“Should we still ask her to swim?”

Normally, he would have answered “no” and given Lyon a lesson in privacy. Instead, and now that he’d seen the pair of arms on the man standing way too close to Charlie for comfort, he said, “Yeah. Let’s ask her.”

As they drew closer, he was able to see more and more of Charlie’s guest. And the more he saw, the less he liked. The guy was probably around Evan’s six feet tall, his chest and arms massive. He wore shorts and a tank top, a tribal tattoo wrapping around his upper right arm. It was a good one, too. Despite already not liking the guy based on principle and proximity to Charlie alone, Evan appreciated quality artistry when he saw it.

“Aunt Charlie!” Lyon burst onto the scene, and for once Evan was grateful for his son’s lack of couth. That little burst did exactly what he’d hoped for: it turned the guy’s head away from Charlie. His narrowed eyes assessed Lyon, then moved to Evan.

He stood taller, mentally vowing to do more curls tonight. The other guy’s arms were tanks.

Lyon invited Charlie to go swimming, and she bent at the waist, pulled her hair out of her face, and promised she would—God, Charlie. Such good people.

The guy held out a hand in greeting. “Connor McClain. You must be the famous illustrator she was telling me about.” He smiled. Nodded toward Evan’s house. “Did all kinds of repairs at your house before the Millers moved out of there, so if something starts acting up, let me know.”

He gripped Connor’s hand briefly, then let go, propping his hands on his hips. “Repairs?”

“Connor works for his father’s handyman company,” Charlie put in, stepping closer, her long, beachy—and flowered, he noticed—dress blowing in the breeze.

“Part-time,” Connor was quick to add. “I’m recently out of the service, but I help out some.”

Ex-military, too. Shit. Probably was a decent guy.

He gestured to the fresh dirt and Evan recognized the scraggly brown plant was gone, a fresh green one with pale purple buds in its place. “This is my real gig.”

“Right. The lavender.” He and Charlie were both wrong. Connor McClain didn’t strike him as nerdy or science-y.

“Landscaping,” he clarified. “Library Park’s my most recent design.”

He’d noticed how nice the park looked, mainly because Mrs. Anderson had pointed out what was new while showing Evan and Gloria where the setup would be for the Starving Artists Festival. He didn’t know a lot about landscaping, but he noticed the place was highly manicured with plenty of small fruit trees and a line of hedges along the back of the library.