Bringing Home the Bad Boy (Second Chance #1)(97)

After dinner tonight, they walked down to the park with Lyon, along with almost every other ’Greener who had braved the slightly chilly air to buy a caramel apple, spiked apple cider, or—yikes—a scoop of sauerkraut ice cream being offered at Jack’s Shack.

Evan’s fingers gently grazed the tattoo just under her breast. The tattoo he’d added to since, his latest embellishment happening a few days ago.

He’d drawn in a thick stroke of blue around the camera. He’d been adding paint strokes one at a time since he branded her. The first time, she’d come into the studio to tell him good night and he pulled her into his lap, kissed her, and murmured, “Have an idea, Ace.”

She thought he meant another roll in paint on a canvas, but instead, he’d laid her on his chair and added watercolor-style brushstrokes of color to her body. She requested more last week, and as any good tattoo artist and man who was happy to brand his woman, he agreed.

She loved it. There was something special about having her passion blended with his. There was something special about them period, she thought with a smile.

This morning, he surprised her again. He’d added another tat to himself a week ago, sneakily keeping it from her. A bandage over his left pec disguised the surprise for an entire week. He fibbed by saying something about a “freak bacon-frying accident” to cover for himself.

Then, while she was getting dressed today, he tore off his T-shirt while she struggled to maintain some semblance of calm. She’d never get over seeing his naked chest. His naked anything.

He stood over her while she sat on the edge of the bed pulling on her socks.

“Gotcha something, Ace.”

Then he took the bandage off his skin and showed her that “something.” The letter A and a heart inked into his skin. Over his heart.

An Ace of hearts.

She’d made it onto Evan’s canvas.

Fingers to her lips, she’d smiled up at him. “Really?”

He brought his forehead to hers. “Really, Ace.” Then he pushed her onto the bed, put a knee between her legs, and kissed her.

They were both later getting to work than they’d anticipated.

“Aunt Sofie!” Lyon looked up from his iPad. He was now consumed with some game featuring towers of fruit—and about nine hundred levels of difficulty. He needed a new distraction ever since he saved the queen on Clashing Clans. Charlie had insisted on commemorating the feat by hanging a photo in Lyon’s room—a photo of Rae in her wedding dress, wearing her “crown.”

Charlie had worried at first how Evan might react, but when he caught sight of it over Lyon’s dresser, he pulled her close and kissed her, much like he’d done a moment ago.

Rae’s wedding picture hung right next to a photo of Evan, Charlie, and Lyon. They stood on the dock looking very much like a family. When she told Evan as much, he’d corrected her with, “We are a family, Ace.”

Then he’d proposed, and before she could answer, Lyon was shaking her arm shouting, “Say yes, Charlie!”

Sofie Martin, event planner extraordinaire, was all smiles when she stopped in front of Evan, Charlie, and Lyon. She had been asked to plan the festival, so she should be. This was a huge coup for her business.

The “aunt” thing was new for Sofie. Maybe Lyon had needed a replacement aunt since he’d stopped referring to Charlie as “aunt” last month. Not that Evan or Charlie had asked him to stop. It had happened naturally, like a lot of things between them did.

“Hey guys,” Sofie said.

“Everything looks great,” Charlie told her, gesturing around at the decorations.

“Except for the deep-fried beets.” Sofie wrinkled her nose and pointed at a cart across the way. “And thank you. It’s been… interesting working closely with Mrs. Anderson.”

Charlie felt the low rumble of Evan’s laughter at her side where she was pressed against him.

Sofie addressed Evan. “The reveal’s in ten minutes, you know.”

“Right.” Evan’s eyes slid to Charlie. She hadn’t seen the painting he donated yet, but he assured her that Mrs. Anderson was getting what she requested: art.

“I have a few minutes on my hands if you want me to take Lyon over to the haunted house,” Sofie offered.

“Dad! Can I?” His eyes were wide and his smile huge.

“Nightmares, bud,” Evan said.

“Nuh-uh,” he argued. “Nonna gives me cookies and milk to keep the nightmares away.” Pat and Cliff were due any minute to pick up Lyon for the weekend.

“Lionel—” Evan started.

Charlie squeezed his side. “Oh, come on, babe. This is the Anderson house we’re talking about. How scary could it be?”

He lifted an eyebrow suggesting she might be eating those words. Mrs. Anderson was pretty darn scary on her own.

Lyon dropped his head back on his neck and looked up at her. “Mom. Can I?”

Mom.

Charlie looked into Evan’s son’s pleading eyes and pressed her lips together. She wondered when it would happen… sooner than she thought.

“I promise I won’t have nightmares,” he added with an eye roll. As if the haunted house was the most pressing issue at hand. As if he didn’t absolutely define her world and future with one word.

“Mom,” Lyon said, stabbing her right in the feels again with the three-letter word. “Is it okay?”