Bringing Home the Bad Boy (Second Chance #1)(77)

She nodded her agreement—figuring he wouldn’t take no for an answer—and earned another series of kisses on her lips. After he’d curled her toes, he swaggered out to the SUV and left.

Then she stood by the chair staring at her bag for she didn’t know how long, trying to figure how he had talked her into staying the night when the very thing Charlie thought she needed was a night away from him so he and Lyon could have family time together.

Well.

There was no going back, so she’d do the next best thing. Go over for dinner but not with a bag. She wasn’t going to shack up with Evan while Lyon was home no matter what Evan said.





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO




Lyon had had about enough of no electronics and it showed in every whine and wallow on the couch over the last hour. Evan left the kitchen, and the prep for dinner: salmon, asparagus, and baked potatoes, to tend to his son who was flailing in the living room.

He plopped down on the couch and leaned over his kid, tickling him, but careful not to make him move his head too much. Didn’t matter. Soon, he was roiling, giggling, and begging through those high-pitched squeals of his, “Stop it, Dad! Stooooop iiiiit!”

He stopped it. “I have to talk to you, buddy.”

Lyon recovered, pushing himself up. “Okay.”

“About Aunt Charlie.”

He picked at a thread hanging from his T-shirt. “ ’kay.”

“Did you like her being at Nonna and Poppa’s house with us?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Me too. I like having her around.” Evan took a breath. “I’d like her in our house more often.”

Lyon looked up.

“Would that be okay with you? If Charlie was here more?”

“Like for dinner?”

“Dinner… and breakfast.”

Lyon’s eyebrows pinched. “For pancakes?”

Kids. So simple.

“Yep. Pancakes. She’s going to sleep here sometimes. I wanted you to know.” He wasn’t seeking his son’s permission—but he knew Lyon would appreciate a say, and a heads-up.

Evan wanted Charlie in his life more, and in his bed more. And while he knew they had to be careful—she was a moaner during sex, and not a quiet one—he knew the right place for her was curled up next to him.

The right place for her was in his and Lyon’s lives.

“Can I play my game now?” Lyon asked, done with this adult conversation.

Evan ruffled his hair—what was left of it—on the side of his head without stitches. They’d get used to it. He and Lyon had been through worse than a short, slightly choppy haircut.

“Did you feed Terror?”

“Yeeeeessss,” Lyon said with an eye roll.

Good to see he was back to his old self.

“Yeah, bud.” Evan stood and paced to the kitchen. “Have at it.”


*


Charlie was impressed. Evan cooked the fish to flaky perfection and halved the potatoes to lay them face down on the grill as well. Asparagus was wrapped in foil with lemon—pretty fancy for Evan.

After she teased him about it more than once during the meal, he admitted his sister, Angel, had provided him with the how-to on the semi-elegant dinner. Charlie was touched he’d gone to the trouble.

Lyon was not impressed, so Evan fixed him hot dogs, muttering, Kids, but she’d watched him grill himself one as well, eating it while their fancy dinner finished cooking.

Charlie and Evan cleaned up, though Lyon did contribute by loading the silverware in the dishwasher. They settled in to watch Man of Steel, since she hadn’t seen it yet and Lyon had bragged it was “the best movie in the world.” She didn’t know about that, but she did enjoy the guy who played Superman. Yowza. He was a hottie.

But the handsome blue-eyed man on screen had nothing on the handsome blue-eyed man who was lying flat on his back on the couch, head turned to watch the film. Lyon had settled on the floor with a pillow and blanket.

Having finished wiping down the countertops, she walked into the room and toward an adjacent recliner. Evan gestured to the sliver of sofa next to his prone body. “Ace. Over here.”

“I’m okay.”

“I’m not,” he said.

She tipped her head in a meaningful nod to Lyon, and Evan promptly shook his head and pointed at the very limited space on the couch where she was supposed to wedge her body.

“The chair is fine, really,” she tried again.

“It’s not fine for me.”

“Aunt Charlie, it’s starting!”

At Lyon’s frustrated pronouncement, she gave in and went to Evan, who smiled when she gave him his way and tugged her down onto the couch. He turned on his side, pulled her butt to his hips, wrapped an arm around her waist, and linked their fingers.

Then she fell asleep.

She stirred slightly when Evan moved, aware of him climbing over her and mumbling for her to stay put. As if she could have moved on her own after two sleepless nights in a row. She stayed put, her eyes closed, hearing rustling and distant conversation: Evan asking Lyon to brush his teeth.

Wiped out, she’d fallen back to sleep by the time Evan returned—and having no idea how long he was gone, was surprised to open her eyes and find the living room completely dark and silent.