Rescuing the Bad Boy (Second Chance #2)(21)
Her bleating heart her greatest fault.
People always let you down. Sooner rather than later. Better to be armored up than bare.
Her arm lifted again. This time he didn’t flinch. Her hand finished the journey to his face, where she skimmed her fingers lightly over his cheek and down his jaw.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
What he should be saying to her for everything that had happened in this very house. But the words had come from her.
Pissed, he clenched his jaw tighter and spoke between teeth welded together. “No, Scampi.”
Her fingertips stroked from his jaw to his chin. “You thought I was going to hit you again.” She looked at his mouth.
Again. Like she had in his Jeep. The moment he’d told her to get out. He’d turned cold and mean minutes after seducing her in the warmest way possible. He didn’t deserve her apology. In no way should she feel anything but satisfied for hitting him. He’d deserved that slap.
He hated her vulnerability. Hated more the idea that men must have—had to have—taken advantage of her in the years since he’d done it first. Donovan had one night with her. There’d been thousands of nights since him. How many of those nights had she spent with men who didn’t deserve her? Men who’d taken advantage of her vulnerability, had guilted her into apologizing when she’d done nothing wrong.
Too many, he’d bet.
Like you would have treated her better?
No. That was why he left.
He wouldn’t use her guilt against her now, turn it on her like a weapon. Like his father had done to his mother, driving her away when Donovan was a toddler. Robert had learned that method from Gertrude.
Patterns. A pattern Donovan was determined to break.
“I lived.” He took her wrist and pulled her hand from his face, but found he couldn’t let her go right away. Finally, after a few seconds, he released her. He needed to get the hell away from her gentle touch, those green eyes revealing too much of her tenderness. Had to stop feeling the warmth and sweetness rolling off her like fog on the lake.
He stalked out of the kitchen, away from the suffocating air bearing down on him. Accusations followed, the knowledge that he’d been responsible for her at one moment in time; it snapped at his heels, dogged his every footfall.
He blew his chance to save her. From that truth, there was no running.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sofie handed over the checklist to Charlie Harris—soon to be Charlie Downey after she and Evan were married. “I made a list of the kinds of photos we’ll need for the event. I should have gotten this to you sooner.”
An entrepreneur, Charlie was an amazing photographer. Sofie had admired her work since she met her at Cozy Home Furniture. They’d become fast friends, and when Charlie mentioned her love for the hobby, Sofie found a way to get her involved in the next event she planned.
“No, no it’s great.” With her long, honey-blond hair and sunny yellow dress, Charlie looked like summer arrived early. She slapped the list on the breakfast bar in the house she shared with Evan, wiggled in her seat, and grinned.
Uh-oh.
“Now, are you going to tell me what it was like to reunite with Donny? your long lost first time?”
Charlie’s face. So filled with love and hope and heart-shaped helium balloons.
Sofie gave her friend a patient smile. Why was it everyone who was in love thought everyone else should also be in love? Sofie’s sister Lacey was the same way both times she’d been engaged. She was all hearts and roses, too. So darn happy it almost made Sofie’s stomach turn.
Almost.
She would never begrudge Charlie and Evan the happiness they’d found. Charlie had battled through orc-laden landscapes of guilt for falling in love with her late best friend’s husband. And Evan, who had lost his wife five years ago now, fought for Charlie, understanding they deserved each other. Understanding his son, Lyon, deserved to have another shot at a mother.
No, Sofie would never dream of denying her friends what they’d so rightfully won: each other.
Charlie was still smiling at her. “Pleeeease tell me?”
Sofie allowed herself a smile. “Well, first he came to see me at Make It an Event and threatened not to let me use the mansion. Then”—she held up a finger—“he came back, said it would be best for the community if I did use the mansion for the charity dinner, and gave me a key to the house.”
Her friend’s smile morphed to a frown. “Moody.”
Ticking off another finger, Sofie continued. “Then, yesterday, when I stopped by the mansion, one of the thrift store guys insulted me and Donny defended my honor. Of course, after that he told me to stay out of his way and he’d stay out of mine.” She screwed her eyes to the left in thought, ready to tick off another item if needed. “Yep, that’s about it.”
No way was she bringing up the moment in the kitchen where he got in her face, clogging her personal space with the smell of spice, those achingly mysterious eyes boring into hers.
She sure wasn’t bringing up the part where he’d insinuated he might like to… how had he put it? Give her another “bounce on the library sofa.” And why were her palms sweating? That offer was not a turn-on. Not at all.
“Sofia,” Evan greeted as he strode into the kitchen in that signature swagger of his. He placed a kiss on his fiancée’s forehead, and Charlie beamed at him. Seriously, beamed. It was beautiful.