Bringing Home the Bad Boy (Second Chance #1)(80)

Behind Swine was Mad Cow, chomping on what looked like a stalk of wheat and scowling, obviously trailing at a slow pace rather than follow Swine’s frantic jog. She snapped a few photos of Evan, praying he wouldn’t see her too soon so she could get a few unplanned shots.

She got five, six if she counted the one when he turned, brows raised, paintbrush elevated, a slightly surprised expression on his handsome face. And she did count it, because she’d bet it was the best one.

She snapped one more when a crooked smile lifted half his mouth, but that one was for her. The smile, and the photo.

“Ace.”

Lowering the camera, she found him still smiling, now swaggering toward her in a bad-boy strut similar to his bovine twin behind him.

“You are Mad Cow. It’s official.”

He scowled at her, his impression of his cartoon. She laughed.

Scooping her up in his arms, he hugged her close.

He felt good. So, so good. She held him.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” he said into her hair.

“I’m not… yet,” said some errant part of her brain.

Normally, when she wasn’t around Mr. Never Censors Himself, she didn’t talk like that. She liked the reaction it received, however, since she was now being kissed deeply, with tongue, an accompanying growl sounding in the back of his throat.

“That’s my girl.” His voice was rough, his hold extra tight.

“About staying…” She pushed on his shoulder to step away from him.

He didn’t budge.

“Maybe I shouldn’t.”

Tighter arms. “Yes. You are.”

“Lyon—”

“Is asleep.”

“Knows we’re getting close,” she finished.

“So?”

“So? You don’t think it’s confusing for him to see me as your latest girlfriend?”

Evan’s arms loosened. His scowl was now his own and not for show. And not nearly as fun as it had been a moment ago. She supposed she could have eased into that observation, but she’d crashed in with it, much like Swine Flew.

“I didn’t mean that. I just meant I’m not Rae.”

She watched as his scowl scowled. “I know you’re not Rae. Lyon knows that, too. He loves you because you’re you.”

Her throat closed. Partially because he’d said Lyon loved her for her, and partially because she wondered if Evan was about to tack on that he, himself, might be suffering the similar plight of loving her for her.

Or, she could be blowing things out of proportion. She wondered if she blew things out of proportion more often than she acknowledged. Not in an overreacting kind of way, but in an underreacting one. Like the Rae thing. She’d built it so big in her head she’d failed to see any of the reality in front of her face.

The fact that Evan and his in-laws were very close. The fact that Lyon loved her. The fact that the Mosleys loved her and loved Evan and were supportive of her horning in on Rae’s family. Except no one saw it that way.

Charlie had gotten so used to getting out of the way, she’d done it without question.

Definitely out of proportion.

Evan palmed her head and forced her gaze to his turquoise eyes, then delivered a blow covered in softness, causing her breath to exit her lips on a disappointed sigh.

“I’d love to make another painting with you, Ace.” He stroked his fingertips into the thickness of her hair. “Especially tonight. Hell, you look amazing.”

That wasn’t what caused the disappointment. The disappointment came next.

“But, next time we throw down, you do the throwing.”

She licked her lips and shook her head as she thought about what he said. “Sorry?”

He didn’t correct her, didn’t scold her for “apologizing,” instead he accepted it, which was kind of worse.

“You look hot, Ace.”

Not an answer, but the way he’d said the word hot reminded her of all the other hot things they’d done together, and she forgot she’d asked a question. His hands skimmed the length of her tasteful black dress, over her ribs and back before settling on her hips. The throb between her legs intensified.

“Gonna quit forcing you to fit,” he said in a low, sexy murmur. “I made you come here. Glad you did. You think Lyon doesn’t want you here, but babe, he and I cleared that up.”

They did?

“You did?”

He didn’t answer that, either. “But right now, your grief for Rae is talking louder than me. So loud, Ace, you’re not hearing me,” he finished on a whisper, his hold loosening on her body.

No, not loosening.

Letting go.

Was he done trying?

“I’m here when you’re ready,” he said, which was less reassuring when she wasn’t being held tightly against him. “Go home, sleep in your own bed. Wake up in your own bed. See if you like it better than mine.”

She already knew the answer. She wouldn’t.

“Ev—”

“No excuses, no apologies. You’re not on vacation, either. It’d do me good to remember that. You have a home, work, a life separate from ours. A lot to do.”

She did, but that didn’t mean the Downeys didn’t fit into it.

What. Was. Happening?