Rescuing the Bad Boy (Second Chance #2)(17)

Ignoring the other man, Donovan turned soft eyes on her. “Something you need off this truck?”

“Yes,” she said, still a little shocked by the conversation so far. “At least two boxes, but I can’t be sure there aren’t more. Last year, Gertrude and I set aside several items for future charity dinners.”

He gave a curt nod and turned to the men. “Mario, Jim, this is Sofia Martin. Anything she needs off this truck, and anything she doesn’t want you to put on it, you will listen to her.”

Mario’s cheeks went ruddy and his dark eyes flashed. He sent Sofie a succinct frown, but then his eyes went back to Donny.

“No problem,” he grumbled. She couldn’t help thinking he didn’t mean that.

Jim, far less bothered by the change of plans, nodded his agreement, grabbed the dolly, and wheeled toward the house. Mario started to follow but before he could, Donovan stepped in his path.

“I ever hear you refer to a single part of her body as ‘sweet’ again, or if I hear you insinuate any part of her body is a ‘pain,’ I will lay you out. I don’t care how uneven the fight is, how much older than me you are, or that you might sue me or call the police. I. Will. Lay. You. Out.”

Donovan had leaned a little closer to Mario’s face while he was making his threat. The older man wasn’t exactly shaking, but Sofie could see he wasn’t interested in calling Donovan on the threat, either.

“Understood?” Donovan straightened, gave the older man an unaffected smile, and crossed his arms over his chest.

Mario’s eyes danced along the bent tree tat tracking up Donovan’s forearm, the inked waves and swirls poking out of his shirtsleeve. “Sure thing, boss. I get grouchy when it’s hot.”

“I get grouchy where Sofie’s involved.”

Head down, Mario said no more and walked inside.

Donovan turned to her, what looked like concern bending his eyebrows. “You okay?”

Seriously? She was fine. What he’d done was sort of… sweet. In a scary way.

Then why don’t you feel scared?

Because she was too busy feeling flattered.

“I’m sure he would’ve responded the same if you simply asked him to be more polite. I don’t think all that…”—sexy chest beating—“posturing was necessary.”

My house, my rules,” he replied. “No one talks to you like that. Not ever.”

Her heart kicked against her ribs. Chivalry was not dead.

He followed the path Mario walked to the house. Sofie was still standing at the back of the truck, gaze snapping from the boxes to the house, unsure what to do next.

A moment later, Connor stepped in front of her.

“I was told by the guys you’re taking over bossing them around.” He grinned. “Which means I can get back to what I was doing before you got here.”

Her eyes scanned the expanse of dirt across the white T-shirt covering his wide chest. With his sandy-colored hair, bulging biceps, and sweat trickling down his temple, Connor was the definition of the word rugged.

“Let me guess,” she said. “Planting something?”

“Saplings.” He stepped to the side. Once his width wasn’t obstructing her view, she saw several trees dotting the lawn, roots protected by burlap. A shovel was stabbed into a sizable pile of dirt like a claim. “Trying to get them in before the sale. Make the place look nice.”

He grinned, and it was a little blinding. Connor looked like he belonged in a calendar featuring half-nude military guys. All for fundraising purposes, of course. Which gave her an idea… that she shelved for later.

She had bigger fish to fillet.

“Didn’t know you were coming over to help,” he said as he turned for the trees.

“Oh.” She followed him, stopping short of sinking the heels of her shoes into the soft grass-covered ground. “I’m not. Not really. I’m sort of here on my own… agenda.” And Ruby’s. “What are you doing here?”

He bent, his jeans cupping a very nice backside. “Clearing out a bunch of brush out back, planting flowers”—he gestured at the hole in the ground—“planting trees.”

“Donny hired you?”

He pulled on a pair of gloves and went to work wrestling a sapling into a hole. While he did, Sofie mostly stared at the muscles bunching in his arms.

“I insisted,” he said, his voice strained from effort.

Connor was a good guy, and though he’d only moved back last year, was already a staple around the Cove. A real-life hometown hero who had done back-to-back stints serving his country. Now home for good, he was working on making his landscaping business his full-time career. Donovan would be glad he entrusted him with the mansion.

“Guess I’ll go inside,” she said, shuffling her feet. “With Donovan.” Apparently there was no avoiding him.

“Who?” Connor teased, wiggling the tree standing several feet over his head to ensure it was in the ground solidly. “Oh, you mean Donny.”

She twisted her lips. “I was told he’s Donovan now.”

“Yeah.” He squatted and began pulling dirt over the roots. “Being unapproachable is kind of his specialty.”

She snorted.

“But then you probably already figured that out.” He spared her a glance.