Rescuing the Bad Boy (Second Chance #2)(23)

She pictured long, dark lashes scrunching over his eyes.

“He flinched.”

Her friend’s head jerked back in surprise. “Flinched?”

“All six-foot-four of him.”

Charlie’s mouth pulled into a frown. “What’s that about?”

That memory merged into another—the boy at Open Arms who’d reacted the same way. He’d flinched, too. Ruby mentioned he’d been hit a lot by his mother and not to take his reaction personally.

Her face infused with heat as the visual of the boy’s face swapped places with Donny’s. Was that the case with Donovan? Had his mother slapped him when he was younger? Had Gertrude? Was that why he hated his late grandmother so much?

The idea of a younger version of him being struck—

God. Sofie couldn’t handle the thought.

She also needed to stop jumping to conclusions before she jumped to the wrong one. “I don’t know what it meant. Maybe nothing.”

There was a possibility he’d simply reacted… but instinct said there was nothing simple about his reaction.

“Hmm,” her friend hummed. Sofie didn’t like the look of unhappy contemplation on Charlie’s face. She didn’t like what it might mean, or that it mirrored her own concern for Donovan’s past.

“Thanks in advance for doing the photos.” Sofie stood and lifted her purse from the countertop. “I have to get going. I have a zillion things to do before the big family dinner.”

Charlie walked her to the front door. “Both sisters, I assume.”

“Oh, the whole family will be there.” Sofie sighed. “Wish me luck.”

“Luck?” Charlie crinkled her cute nose, then smiled. “Just remember, Sofe, not everyone is lucky enough to have a whole family to sit down to dinner with.”

That was true. Charlie’s scattered, distant family was proof.

“You’re right,” Sofie said.

“They love you. Sometimes families have a funny way of showing it.”

And sometimes, Sofie thought, her thoughts returning to Donovan as she headed for her car, families showed it in the worst way imaginable.

She hoped she was wrong about his reaction.

The idea of him being abused was unbearable.





Sylvia Martin delivered a basket of bread to the dinner table. “Honestly, Sofia, I have no idea why you refuse to plan Lacey’s wedding.” Her mother sat down and extended her hands to either side of her.

Lacey’s second wedding. Forget that Sofie attempted to plan her first one. It was a source of contention between her and her older sister… and a source of cluelessness for her mother. Sylvia often pretended the conflict had never happened. Head, meet sand.

The argument was tiresome, but she found herself growing defensive. “I don’t plan weddings anymore, Mom. The Cove has plenty of opportunities for event planners. I can make a perfectly respectable living doing fundraisers and—”

“No bragging, dear. We’re praying.” Sylvia snapped the fingers on both hands, prompting Sofie’s dad, Patrick, and Sofie’s oldest sister, Lacey, to grab her hands.

Bragging. Sofie felt her hairline start to broil.

“Hurry. Before my food gets cold.”

Sofie extended her hands to both sides, took the hand of her younger sister, Kinsley, and her father’s. He smiled and gave her a wink and she shut her eyes for the prayer.

Giving thanks went quickly in the Martin household. Sylvia didn’t like to dawdle with piping hot food on the table. After plates were filled and the breadbasket passed, she started in again on Lacey’s wedding plans. Lacey looked annoyed when the attention shifted from her to Sofie.

“I’m just saying”—Sylvia cut into her pot roast—“sweetheart, why aren’t you eating?”

“I’m eating,” Sofie argued, looking at her plate.

She hated pot roast. Honestly, was there anything worse than a piece of meat cooked until the toughness bled out of it? She’d filled her plate with the carrots, potatoes, and celery instead, though they basically tasted like mushy pot roast since the food had steeped in the same cast iron pot. Not a salad to be found, but there was a giant bowl of macaroni and cheese on the table. No way was she touching that calorie-dump.

“She’s dieting again,” Kinsley pointed out, buttering her roll with an unbelievable amount of margarine.

“I’m not,” Sofie argued. “I’m just—”

“Point being,” her mother cut her off again to change the subject. “Lacey is paying through the nose for this fancy wedding planner when you could simply gift her your services.”

“Mom,” Lacey started.

Living in a vacation town, most young girls made their living either in the hospitality business or in the food service business. Sofie happened to try both. After serving her time at the Wharf slinging plates, she migrated to the Evergreen Club to sling plates there. It wasn’t long before her manager, Belinda, started asking her to run large catering parties in the reception hall. Soon after, Sofie had begun planning events on her own.

The gig had bolstered her confidence, and soon she was doing her own event planning on the side. Before she opened Make It an Event, the first job she’d taken on was the last wedding she ever attempted.