Bringing Home the Bad Boy (Second Chance #1)(91)

Her formerly relaxed, drenched-in-happy body went rigid as she took in his scowl.

Self-consciously, she covered her body with her shirt and addressed her ex-boyfriend with a delayed, but no less surprised, “Russell?”





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN




Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Charlotte.”

Russell Hartman. In her backyard.

In shock over that fact, she mumbled, “What are you doing here?”

He turned his head and studied the direction where Evan had disappeared with a shake of his head. “Charlotte,” he repeated as if exasperated.

She used to hate when he did that—looked down on her. He did it often during the six years they’d dated. Now that they were no longer dating, she didn’t like it any more than she used to.

There was a certain amount of ice in her tone when she spoke next. “You could have called.”

“I did call,” he accused. “You didn’t pick up, so I drove over.”

Right. Her phone was inside.

“Dare, the boys, and I are staying north of the pier, and I wanted to show my family the dock and the wall of evergreens.”

Dare, as in Darian. The boys. My family. Each of those words was a shard of glass he had no problem pushing into her skin.

He also could have shown them the “wall of evergreens” from the other side of the lake.

“I was calling to ask if you’d mind if we parked in the drive and walked down there,” he said, sounding defensive while encroaching on her territory.

She opened her mouth to tell him “no,” that he and his family could go to non-private property, when his next words struck her speechless.

“Never did I expect to find you with your tongue down Evan Downey’s throat.” He shook his head as shame cascaded over her like a bucket of icy water. “I always knew you were too close to him, Charlotte. I never liked it, but I kept that to myself.”

He hadn’t. He’d reminded her every chance he got.

“Evan Downey,” he repeated, this time with enough accusation to stir a jury.

Her heart plunged despite her attempt to keep from overreacting. She crossed her arms, not out of defiance but to prevent the quake working its way through her body from visibly shaking her hands.

Russell helped himself onto her porch. He’d never physically hurt her before but it didn’t keep her from backing up as he approached. On even ground now, he could literally look down on her. And he did, talking to her with judgment and disgust prevalent in his tone. “How could you, Charlotte? How could you be so cavalier with your best friend’s husband?”

That was completely unfair. Unfortunately, it was also completely true.

“He has a son.”

The anxiety flitting through her veins didn’t make thinking of a sensible retort easy. “I love Lyon.” She hated the defensiveness in her tone. Hated more that she felt tears building in her throat. All her reasons for kissing Evan Downey tumbled in her head, but if she said them out loud, she’d sound more defensive. And would give Russell more ammo for the Shame-O-Matic weapon he’d toted all the way over here.

I love Evan. I love to watch him paint. I love the way he paints me. I love the tattoo he gave me. I love everything about him.

But the words clogged in her throat, her self-confidence ebbing in Russell’s presence.

“Lyon loves you, too, Charlotte,” Russell confirmed softly. That truth was made harder to hear when he followed it with “Lyon loves you as Aunt Charlie, not as a replacement for his mother.”

Her blood matched her tone, turning to ice. He’d zinged her with her biggest fear, her biggest worry. “I’m not trying to replace Rae.” That was true, too. She straightened her shoulders and found her strength. “You don’t have any right to show up here uninvited and cast judgment on something you don’t understand.”

He was unfazed. “What I understand is that rather than put her kids through the heartache of watching their mother shack up with a man”—he gestured to himself, then threw an arm wide—“Darian and I got married by a justice of the peace.”

How self-righteous was he?

“You shacked up with me,” Charlie reminded him.

Tilting his head, he stepped closer, his body blocking out her surroundings. “Charlotte, honey, you didn’t have children.”

“You didn’t want children.”

“I didn’t want children with you, Charlotte, no.”

Ouch.

She put her hand to her chest, the sting of that blow finding its mark.

“I dated Darian for… a while.” For the first time, his gaze flitted to the side and he didn’t look in her eyes. He looked at his feet. “I never told you this, but those last three and a half months when you and I didn’t sleep together…”

She really, really didn’t want to hear the rest of that sentence. He let her have it anyway, making sure he looked in her face when he delivered the news.

“I didn’t sleep with you because I’d already met and fallen in love with Darian. I wasn’t willing to cheat on my future wife.”

Charlie’s jaw dropped. He’d… cheated on her? For three and a half months while they were dating? She had no idea. None. He’d played her for a fool. And what a fool she’d been.