Rescuing the Bad Boy (Second Chance #2)(31)

“Behind the utility room at the mansion is a hallway leading to several rooms. The largest appears to be where the former groundskeeper kept his stuff.”

Donovan had been avoiding that hallway. One thing at a time, and right now, the basement and the bedrooms upstairs had consumed him. Plus the great room, though the fireplace was less something that needed done and more something he needed to do to keep from going mad.

He’d been away from his work for a few weeks now and already his hands ached to create. Building and working with stone had become a reprieve from his life, maybe even an addiction. Craftsmanship had been an outlet for several frustrations.

“Found a few metal and wooden shelves—basically a bunch of old shit in there you’re probably going to dump,” Connor continued.

He didn’t care what Connor took out of that house. Save him the trouble of sorting through it. But Donovan could also see his buddy was playing down how much he wanted those forgotten shelves. Connor had a way of making old things new again, of seeing the potential in what others viewed as trash. Now that Donovan thought about it, that attribute was probably one of the reasons they were friends.

“And you want it.”

Connor’s eyes went to his. “Apartment’s too small. Be a good place to start an indoor greenhouse. Put a couple of seedlings in there, fresh herbs. Might use the space to start some of my lavender.” He took a drink and eyed his glass. “If you don’t care.”

Donovan swallowed a smile. He knew his buddy needed his hands in the dirt the way he needed his own wrapped around rocks. Putting seedlings in, watching them grow, cultivating life, that was Connor’s thing. And if there was any good that could come out of the mansion and his part-time use of it, he’d make damn sure his friends benefited.

“Take whatever you need.”

Connor lifted his chin. His eyes brightened. “Yeah?”

Donovan shrugged, even though he knew what a huge deal this was for his friend. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks, man. Thought I would start with…” His voice trailed off and when he didn’t finish his sentence, Donovan followed Connor’s eyes to the front of the bar where a man and woman, linked arm-in-arm, walked in.

“Holy crap. He got her to go out with him again.” Connor’s voice was an amused lilt. “Will wonders never cease?”

Donovan was not amused. Mainly because Scott Torsett had an arm wrapped snugly around Scampi’s waist, and, he saw as they walked by, his fingers were dangerously close to her ass.

They stopped at the opposite end of the bar and Donovan was grateful for the row of beer taps hiding him and Connor from view. He could see Scampi through the gaps. She wore a royal blue, billowy shirt and pants leaving little to the imagination. Tight, black, kind of shiny, the material cupped her ass in a way that should be illegal. Imagining what was hiding under those pants was enough to make his mouth dry, and his mind wander.

She looked amazing, and something about her being within view yet out of reach—and being touched by Scott Torsett for God’s sake—made Donovan crazy.

He was going to need another beer.

“Hey man.” Connor’s hand hit Donovan’s tense shoulder and squeezed. “No brawling. We’re just here to drink.”

Donovan had a death grip on his mug, the condensation wet and cold against his skin. Maintain. Connor was right. They were here to drink.

Scott’s hand moved along Sofie’s back, his fingers inching lower. If Donovan didn’t have hold of the glass, his hand would’ve curled into a fist.

The lawyer’s palm slid to her backside.

A growl pushed its way past Donovan’s throat.

Sofie expertly slid away from his touch, casually turning her body so that Scott’s hand was on her hip. The smile she gave him was pained.

Connor took his hand from Donovan’s shoulder. “God, what an *.”

He hadn’t planned on kicking anyone’s ass tonight, but Connor’s comment was as good as getting the blessing to rearrange Torsett’s face. The rigidity of Sofie’s body showed she was clearly uncomfortable. Donovan stood from his seat.

Through the blood pounding against his eardrums, he heard Connor say, “Got your back.”

Scott bent his head closer to Sofie as Donovan closed in, walking calmly, trying not to appear murderous. That same—soon-to-be-broken—hand traveled to Sofie’s butt again, this time squeezing.

Yep, her date was going to get his ass kicked.

He stepped over to the not-so-cozy pair and interrupted by putting a hand on Scott’s shoulder. Scott spun around, which caused the side effect of his hand leaving her body.

Perfect.

“Donny?” Scott blinked a few times and then he smiled like he was relieved. “Hey, long time no see, buddy.”

“Get the hell out of here, Scott.”

His smile dropped. Tension replaced relief as his shoulders stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” Donovan jerked his head in the direction of the front door. “Out.”

“What are you doing?” This from Sofie.

Not accustomed to backing down, the lawyer straightened his back and glared up at him. “You have a problem, Pate?”

“You’re about to have five problems. The fingers on that hand.”

“Okay, okay.” Sofie put a palm on each of their chests and applied pressure, inserting herself between them. “Maybe everyone should calm down for a second.”