Bringing Home the Bad Boy (Second Chance #1)(25)

How wonderful to be a part of the artwork on his skin—to be carefully chosen, drawn with precision by his own hand, and permanently showcased on his amazing body. Not on a whim or because he was a tattoo artist, but because those people mattered enough to him to earn the privilege.

Against her will, her lips lifted into a sad smile. She hoped one day to matter that much to someone.

Lyon splashed underwater and popped back up, giggling. Evan, wide smile on his face, scooped up a handful of water and wet his dark brown hair, sweeping it off his forehead. She studied the newest bit of ink on his body—the evergreens—and allowed herself to imagine that it’d had something to do with her.

Then she chastised herself for being selfish. He’d made Rae’s dreams come true. And since her life was cut so very short, that mattered more than any silly fantasies Charlie entertained now.

She hadn’t realized Evan was so close until her sighed exhalation drew his attention. He turned his head in her direction and caught her staring. She tried to stop, honest to God, but how could she turn away from what was near perfection in the flesh?

The long ends of his wet hair curled and dripped down his neck, beading his wide shoulders with water. His sunglasses were perched on his nose, his eyes scrunched at the sides. Crow’s feet fanned out from each corner, far more attractive than she cared to admit. The sunglasses on her own nose hid her perusal of his fine body, and for that, she was glad. Especially when he approached, his powerful arms slicing through the water, tattoos flexing with each step.

Sorry, R—

“Ace.”

“Yeah?” she said a little too quickly, a little too loudly, and maybe a little guiltily.

“Don’t you swim? I had no idea you were such a princess.”

“Yes, I swim,” she said—this time defensively. “I just washed my hair.”

Lyon and Evan gave her twin, confused expressions.

“Why are you wearin’ a dress?” This question came from Lyon, who scrunched his equally perplexed face up at her.

“It’s not a dress,” she started. “It’s—”

“Ace. It’s a dress. Lose it.”

What… had she been about to say? She had no idea. She had nothing. Nothing at all, not after Evan said the words of her daydreams.

Ace, lose the dress.

“No, that’s okay, I’m going to—eee!” The squeal was due to two very cold-with-wet-lake-water hands on her ankles. The squeal died in her throat when he yanked the sarong open and exposed her bare legs, water dripping from his forearms onto her warm skin.

A small smirk sat on his mouth.

Lyon burst out laughing. “Don’t be a baby, Aunt Charlie! It’s not that cold.”

“Yeah, Aunt Charlie,” Evan said, a certain teasing tone in his low voice. He took off his sunglasses and dropped them on the dock. His amazing blue eyes were on her as his hands grasped her legs a few inches above her knees. “I’ll keep you warm.”

This was said under his breath while Lyon happily doggie paddled back and forth a short distance away.

Aunt Charlie.

You’re Rae’s best friend. Lyon’s aunt. Evan’s friend. Start acting like it.

Shaking off her inappropriate reaction, she forced a wide smile and, recent hair washing be damned, stood and dove off the dock and into the lake. When she resurfaced, she shrieked again.

Because it was freaking cold.

“You lie!” she accused Lyon between shallow breaths. “It’s freezing in here!”

Lyon found this hilarious, so she swam out to him as he tried to swim away, his laughter high and completely infectious. This kid. His heart, his big beautiful heart, was such a perfect split between Rae and Evan. And his joyful, rambunctious spirit reminded her so much of Rae, it caused a dart of pain in her chest.

Before she could get caught up in memories and melancholy, Evan joined them and tossed Lyon twice before turning to her. “You’re next.”

She paddled away from him. “No, no, no.”

“Yes,” he insisted, dark intent in his eyes.

“Do it, Dad!”

“Evan—”

Too late. Evan had a hold of her ankle and was tugging her. Her backward strokes did no good, and water nearly went up her nose as he dragged her toward him. Then his hand went from her ankle to higher on her leg while she treaded water with her arms.

“Don’t you dare.” She made a feeble attempt to escape again.

“Do it, Dad,” Lyon repeated, each word choked with laughter.

“You heard my boy.” His voice was low and sexy as his hands slipped to her waist.

“Evan…” she started.

He had her out of the water before she finished and, despite her expelled noooooo!, tossed her a few feet, where she landed with an inelegant splash.

When she came up out of the water, a huge hunk of her hair was slapped over her face like a clinging octopus. She moved it away to see Evan’s smile as wide as she’d seen it in forever, followed by a belly laugh that’d been missing from his repertoire for much too long.

Lyon joined in, and she lost her anger when a huge smile found her face, followed by reluctant laughter of her own.

Dipping her head in the water, she smoothed her hair back and gave Lyon the bad news. “Gonna pay for that, buddy,” she told Lyon, swimming to him as he attempted to get away. Before she dunked him, she gave him a second to hold his nose, then pushed him under. Both he and his safety-orange vest popped to the surface, his smile intact, his dimple denting one cheek. Then he started his own game—spinning in circles attempting to start his own whirlpool.