Rescuing the Bad Boy (Second Chance #2)(44)

Faith yawned. “I have an hour-long drive after I leave here.”

Oh, that was true. Faith had carpooled from the shop rather than bring her own car to the mansion. Sofie hadn’t expected to be here well after dinnertime.

Sofie sent a longing glance at the wall, then to her very patient, darling friend. “Ten more minutes?”

They’d long since sobered from their day of wine drinking, especially after eating fully loaded pizzas that had been delivered. Thank God her friends worked cheap. Earlier, the guys had argued they could have taken care of the painting in half the time, Evan’s grumbling a cute “I paint for a living,” but the girls had shooed them away. The two of them needed their male bonding time as much as Sofie had needed girl time.

“We can drive her to her car,” Charlie offered.

Faith’s shoulders dropped in relief. “Oh, thank you. I need to get home.”

Which would mean Sofie was on her own. “Um…” She flashed a glance at Donovan, who came into the dining room, pizza slice in hand, mouth chewing.

Evan politely pointed out the pachyderm in the room. “You sure you and Donny can hang out without killing each other?”

Donovan’s brows jumped. He flicked his eyes to Sofie and took another bite.

Concentrating way more than necessary, Sofie ran the brush along the wall. “We’ll be fine.”

Satisfied, Faith grabbed her purse and bolted for the door. “Perfect. I have to get up early.”

Right. Skylar, Faith’s sister, was moving out of her boyfriend’s house—yet another relationship-gone-bad. The Shelby curse. Maybe there was something to Faith’s family’s urban legend after all.

Evan, Charlie, and Faith made their way out the front door and Sofie kept painting, acutely aware of Donovan behind her, polishing off his pizza and brushing his hands on his jeans.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said.

“Was there enough left for you?” The girls had eaten almost two entire pizzas on their own, and Sofie ate three slices herself. “I ate too much. Should probably put down this brush and run a few laps around the house.”

“You worry a lot about what you eat.”

She peeked over her shoulder. “All girls do.”

“Not all girls.”

Well. He probably knew what he was talking about, considering he had a wide sampling of ladies to pool.

I use the word ladies loosely. And the word loosely literally, she thought with a smile.

“You look good, Scampi. I wouldn’t sweat it.” He pulled his thumb and index finger over his lips. She watched him draw his mouth open, watched his lips close again. The star tattoo on his finger caught her eye and her stomach fluttered to life. So did parts much lower.

Paint fumes. She turned back to the wall. She’d blame the fluttering on the paint fumes.

“I see you went with a Band-Aid after all,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“Find what you were looking for at the quarry?” If she kept the conversation flowing while she finished this wall, she might stave off more inappropriate thoughts about his mouth.

“Mostly.”

Another one-word answer. He wasn’t helping her in the conversation department.

“Want a beer?”

She looked over her shoulder again. His black hair was wavy from the humidity today, his shirt covered in dust from the quarry. The man was sexy, tall, and made her think of sinning ten different ways. She should have gone with Faith and let the painting go.

Shaking her head, she muttered, “No, thanks.”

He turned for the kitchen.

Adding alcohol to the equation would not do her any favors. Though it might dull the synapses snapping in her brain. At current, they were lobbing suggestion after suggestion at her, mostly about kissing.

Kissing Donovan was fun in a way that made no sense other than physically. She thought about Faith’s proclamation to only have one-night stands, and then Sofie thought about the fact that, technically, she and Donny had already had a one-night stand. Then she wondered if they did it again, if it’d be a two-night stand.

“Oh my gosh, brain, shut up,” she whispered.

Crazytown had a population of one, and her name was Sofia Martin.

Done with the area she could reach, she saw there was one more spot over the doorway she wanted to fill in before calling it quits for the evening. Her right wrist ached and pins-and-needles numbness prickled her fingers. She’d had a death grip on the paintbrush for most of the day in an effort to carefully trim around what seemed like acres of hand-carved wooden molding. Worth it, though. The molding stood out better against Pale Walnut Mousse than the dark, light-sucking red she and her friends had spent the day covering.

She dragged the six-foot ladder to the wall and climbed the rungs. If she rested her left elbow on the top and reached out with her right hand, she could hold on to the small container of paint with one hand and touch up the spot above the doorway with the other.

A little more stretching, a little maneuvering…

The tips of the bristles were almost on the wall… Allllmost.

Her plan would’ve worked if it hadn’t been for Gertie’s poor timing.

A shrill bark rang out, startling Sofie and causing her to reel. Thankfully, her reaction time was quick. She slapped a hand onto the ladder, righting herself before she fell.