Bringing Home the Bad Boy (Second Chance #1)(44)
Powerful.
He wanted more.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The white painted banner strung over the entrance of Library Park read: EVERGREEN COVE’S STARVING ARTISTS FESTIVAL, CELEBRATING 25 YEARS!
Every year, local artists came together to donate their works to a silent auction from which the library directly profited. Charlie donated a photo of the lake at sunrise. She’d taken the shot earlier this year from her back porch, dock and pines in the distance, and decided then it would be the one she donated.
When she’d dropped off the photo, Mrs. Anderson mentioned how some of this year’s funds would go for new shelving while a portion of it would be put aside for repair of the east foundation wall. As she’d put it, “before the whole dang building topples over.”
Viewing the stately old brick building now, Charlie doubted “the whole dang building” was going anywhere. A study in good old-fashioned craftsmanship, the place was likely as sturdy as it looked.
Not that she’d dare argue with the intimidating librarian. Mrs. Anderson was a spitfire force to be reckoned with. No one knew her exact age or remembered a time when a different librarian had been in charge of the Cove’s loaned-out books.
Rare as it was for her to take a day for herself, Charlie had blocked the entire weekend off when she’d learned Evan and Lyon were moving here. It would give her an excuse to take Lyon to the festival and introduce him to the bizarre food offerings from the questionably sanitary food trucks lining the blocked-off street.
Hey, it was tradition.
She leaned against the aluminum railing surrounding the teacup ride in the center of the festival. This, another spinning ride called “The Scrambler,” and one that looked like a giant roulette wheel turned on its side were the only three rides at the festival.
The carnies in charge weren’t carnies at all, but Evergreeners Tom Anderson, Mrs. Anderson’s long-suffering husband, and his two grown sons, Willie and Kyle. The three men organized the entertainment for the fair every year, guaranteeing both safety and fun. Though Willie, when she’d purchased Lyon’s two-dollar ticket, informed her he’d “tuned the ride myself” but regrettably “can’t guarantee against puking.”
Evan had given her that guarantee, claiming Lyon had a solid stomach. She certainly hoped so considering the array of deep-fried foods they’d shared before he climbed aboard the cup-and-saucer.
After he stopped waving at her at every pass, she allowed herself to take in the perfect eighty-something-degree weather, cloudless blue sky, and full, thick maple, oak, and pine trees dotting the park. ’Greeners flocked to the festival every year, and she wished Sofie or Faith hadn’t worked today so she had someone to hang with.
Evan and Asher were at a signing table under a huge white tent, their own painted banner promising visitors could Meet the creators of Mad Cow! Next to their seats was the painting of the cow himself propped on an easel, the same one she’d watched him paint the other night.
At the thought, a secret smile curled her lips and she put her hand to her face. That’d been… something else.
She blinked him into focus now and watched him lean forward to shake the hand of a very small boy, coming half off his metal chair, pretending to crumple underneath the kid’s grip. When the boy laughed and let go, Evan shook his arm out, his face an exaggerated wince.
It was so adorable, her heart gave a little tug. He had an ease with children she shared, except where his came from was no mystery. He had a big, boisterous, loving family, and though they were scattered in Ohio, Tennessee, and Illinois, he claimed getting together with them was an easy reunion.
Oh, to be so lucky.
She felt a squeeze of envy for not having that kind of relationship with her father and sister. They preferred distance. Charlie had decided years ago to let them have their space and stop trying to create a reunion that would, most likely, be unsuccessful.
They hadn’t fought her on the decision, which made her feel equal parts hurt and relieved.
She took a deep breath, caught another glimpse of Evan’s smiling face, and her thoughts returned to the night in his studio. Now other parts of her gave a squeeze, simultaneously more pleasant, and less welcome than the one before.
She’d tried to figure out her brazen reaction—the mysterious “thing” possessing her to strip nude for Evan Downey for cripe’s sake—and had come to only one conclusion. The conclusion? Well. The answer was right there in the question. Evan Downey.
The man could talk a nun out of her habit. And a good girl into a series of bad ones.
That realization led to her thinking of how he’d behaved since the afternoon on the dock, when the air snapped between them palpably—and she thought about it a lot, both while pretending to work and fervently avoiding being alone with her sexy neighbor.
If she wasn’t mistaken, Sofie was right. Evan had been pursuing her.
It didn’t assuage her guilt—guilt over Rae as well as a bigger guilt than Rae, which wasn’t something she understood yet—pricking her like one of Evan’s tattoo needles. Although on second thought, maybe that bigger “guilt” wasn’t guilt at all, but something else entirely.
Yearning.
So much of it built up during the years after Rae died. Charlie lost her best friend, Rae’s parents, and Evan and Lyon for a while. And in the last two years since Russell left her, she’d found herself wishing she had someone to yearn for. And now, she did. After bottling that longing, Evan had come along and shaken her up.