Rescuing the Bad Boy (Second Chance #2)(36)

“Do you think I’m desperate?” She was heading over to see Mr. Wonderful this morning, and if she reeked of desperate, she needed to wash off the scent before she arrived at Pate Mansion.

“No,” Faith responded firmly.

“How are you newly single and this… this…” Sofie stuffed a water bottle in a side pocket and a handful of pens in another. “Good at it?”

Her friend’s lips pinched slightly.

Not the most sensitive question considering what Faith had been through. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be harsh.”

“You are not wrong. Shouldn’t I be more upset than this?” Faith gestured to her perfectly springy floral-print dress. “You kissed Donovan and you’re torn apart. Michael slept with some girl with a cheap dye job and a tramp stamp, and other than a brief crying jag, I’m”—she shrugged—“I’m okay. Like, really okay.”

“Maybe you’re grieving. Stages happen out of order sometimes.”

“Or maybe I’m relieved because I’m more like my mother than I care to admit.” Faith pursed her lips.

Sofie rounded the desk and sat in the other guest chair. For this intervention, she needed to be eye-to-eye with her best friend.

“You don’t believe in that curse. You’ve said it yourself a hundred times.”

Faith’s mother, Linda Shelby, maintained that “Shelby women couldn’t marry.” Supposedly, there was a long line of family members on Faith’s mother’s side who had planned their weddings but never made it down the aisle.

“It was easy to disbelieve when I was engaged,” Faith said. “I thought I’d be the first to break the curse, if it was real at all. Now I’m wondering if I said yes to Michael as a test—to see if we’d make it.” She shook her head. “We didn’t.”

A marriage based on a test. That would have been something.

“But… you loved him,” Sofie said, trying not to make it sound like a question.

“Did I?”

They watched one another for a long moment before Faith’s eyes dropped to her lap. Just as Sofie reached to comfort her, Faith’s head snapped up. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you! Cup of Jo’s has offered to set up a coffee bar at the charity dinner.”

She smiled, no sign on her pretty face she’d been questioning her love for Michael, lamenting her lost wedding, or wondering if the family curse was real.

“All proceeds go to Open Arms, of course,” Faith added.

“That’s… great.” Sofie wished she had a similar switch. She’d use it to turn off her feelings about Donovan. Just flip it and go about planning the dinner. Then, she wouldn’t think about the feel of his firm lips, or the way his palm on the back of her head held her willingly captive, or the way his thumb stroked her lip…

“I figured we could set the coffee up in the far corner,” Faith continued. “Next to the cupcakes.”

Swallowing thickly, Sofie rerouted her thoughts, stood, and smoothed her skirt. “Sounds perfect.”

Faith grabbed a pen and pad of paper from the corner of the desk. “I wonder how much space we have…”

Sofie went around her desk and pulled another binder from the shelf behind it. “I’ll find out for you,” she said. “I’m going to the mansion today.”

“Today?”

She nodded. “Now, in fact.”

Faith wrinkled her nose. “You don’t look very excited.”

What she was, was nervous. About seeing Donovan. About maneuvering around him today after what had happened last night. About him being in her space, in her face…

But Faith was wrong… Sofie was excited.

Bad boy kisses did that to a girl.





Five hours.

She’d been here five hours. Sofie consulted her watch. And twelve minutes.

Other than running into Donovan once—outside while he loaded yet another thrift store truck with old furniture—she hadn’t seen much of him. Just his legs walking beneath a hideous floral sofa Connor helped him carry to the truck.

She’d measured the ballroom. Twice. And she’d pulled out her laptop and researched paint colors and pricing for the dining room. Since the desk in the library was the most sensible place to work, she stowed her emotions about the space and set up in there. Despite her attempt to be a grown-up, the room—and a particular piece of furniture—niggled at her the entire time she surfed the Internet.

That’d been fun—having a momentary standoff with The Red Sofa where she’d cashed in her V-card with the man of the house. The exchange rate on that sucker was not good, by the way.

After making a few more calls to sponsors and other locals who’d expressed interest in the charity dinner, her work was far from done, but she was ready to call it a day. She’d prepared herself, mentally and physically, for seeing Donovan. In an effort not to look too nice, she’d changed—forgoing the heels and skirt in favor of jeans and a cotton shirt. Whatever he said to her—whether he tried to come on to her again, or suggested they stay away from each other, she was ready. Only one problem. He hadn’t confronted her. He’d avoided her as much as she avoided him.

The sound of the front door opening perked her ears. She heard the dog’s toenails on the tile, then Connor’s and Donovan’s voices echoing in the foyer. Dog sought her out, showing up in the library a moment later, tail wagging.