Bringing Home the Bad Boy (Second Chance #1)(96)

Maybe that was why she felt unsure even after his proclamation in her doorway.

But what did he need to say that he hadn’t already proven? In the past couple of days, he defended her honor, he came for her, he gave her space when she didn’t need it. And here she sat, staring into his beautiful face, head empty, mouth mute.

There was only one thing she could think to say. “I’m sorry.”

This earned her a grunt and a slight lift of his lips. “ ’Course you are.” That tiny lift made her heart do a cartwheel. “You’re sorry about everything. Especially shit you shouldn’t be sorry for.”

“I said awful things.” She looked at her hands.

“Yeah. So did I.” He shook his head. “Seeing that * with his hands on you… I couldn’t…”

She lifted her eyes and held his.

“You deserve better, Ace.”

She filled the air with a nervous laugh. “I deserve something.”

His hand covered both of hers. “You deserve me.”

Her smile fell and her heart pounded.

“And I deserve to have you. Tonight. Tomorrow. Every day.” He squeezed her hands.

Her heart did another cartwheel.

“Know what part of you I love the most?” he asked.

She clasped her fingers together, felt her eyes grow wide.

Did he… just say… he loved her?

Maybe he means as a friend. Don’t freak out.

Her heart kicked against her ribs.

Too late.

She was freaking out.

“Do you?” he prompted.

Shocked, she shook her head in answer.

“Every part. All of them.” His crooked smile slipped and he focused on her so intently, she couldn’t look away. “I love when you get embarrassed when I compliment your body. Love when you gasp when I say something dirty you find secretly sexy. Love that you love my son”—he took his hand from hers and grasped her neck, turning his body toward hers—“especially that part.” He gave her a squeeze. “Love that you apologize for absolutely everything.”

She was biting her lip so she wouldn’t cry, but she felt the tears building in the backs of her eyes, stinging her nose.

“Know why?”

She shook her head again, still speechless. Overwhelmed.

“Because that’s who you are. Every giving, loving, amazing part of you. And every last part belongs with me.” He paused, pressed his lips together for a second, then said, “I didn’t choose you first, Ace. I can’t change that.”

Finally, she found words, and the voice to give them. “I wouldn’t want you to. Without Rae, I wouldn’t be me. You wouldn’t be you.” Quietly, she added, “We wouldn’t have Lyon.”

“We.” His smile widened. “Love that about you, too, Ace.” Palming the back of her head, he lowered his lips to hers.

She tipped her lips to catch the kiss, the only thought in her addled brain that he loved her. Loved everything about her.

Oh, her heart. Her pounding, beating, palpating heart.

“I’d ask if you’d have me, Ace…” he whispered against her mouth. “But baby, you already have me.”

Grasping his neck, she pulled his lips to hers and crushed into him. When the arm of the chair pushed into her ribs, preventing them from getting closer, he stood and pulled her up by her elbows. Bending, he hooked an arm behind her knees and scooped her up, kissing her again and again while he walked her to the house.

At the doorway, he teased, “Good to see you agree.”

“I do.”

Something serious crossed his face. “I know you do.”

He did know. He had known. And he didn’t stop in his pursuit of her because he’d known. He’d seen the truth way before she had.

They belonged together. He loved her.

He loved her.

Evan Downey was in love with her.

The words pounded like the backbeat of a song on the radio, throbbing through her body with too much bass.

No, not too much.

Just enough.

If he could be bold, so could she. She grinned up at him. “Can I borrow your shower with you in it?”

Still holding her in his arms, he grinned as he pushed open the door. “Hell yes.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE




That fall…



Library Park boasted a banner that read THE COVE’S HARVEST FEST. Pumpkins, haystacks, and scarecrows decorated the park, and the Andersons’ home across the street was decorated as well. Tom had turned it into a “haunted house” for the event, but to Charlie, it looked more Scooby-Doo than Amityville Horror.

She shook her head at the skeleton in the yard wearing a pink dress.

A pink dress.

Not that haunted houses were particularly scary before nightfall, anyway, she reasoned.

Evan palmed her ribs and tugged her close as they walked through the crowd. She wanted to release a long sigh as she curled into him, so she did. She pretty much did whatever she was feeling with him since the night he came for her. She’d promised him he’d never have to come for her again, and he told her, “I’ll come for you always, Ace.”

Was it any wonder she had agreed to marry him?