Rescuing the Bad Boy (Second Chance #2)(65)

“I thought Landon and I were keeping things casual, but I quickly learned sex is anything but casual.” Kimber elbowed Gloria. “I knew I was right.”

Glo held out her palms. “I admit I’m horrible at giving advice to other people. I’m better at giving advice to myself.”

“And the advice you are currently giving yourself?” Charlie fished.

Glo sat up straight in her chair and lifted her glass. “Never bed the bad boy and expect him to change.”

Faith raised her glass. “I can drink to that. Michael wasn’t exactly a bad boy, but a ‘good’ boy doesn’t cheat on his fiancée, now does he?”

They toasted the inarguable fact.

Charlie held up a finger to make her point. “Evan is a bad boy, but in the right ways.”

Kimber smiled. “Mm-hmm. And Landon’s emotions were buried until I unearthed them.” Those two cheersed next. “Just goes to show, sometimes, a bad boy can bring out the best in you.”

While Gloria and Faith scoffed, and Kimber and Charlie playfully argued their point, Sofie sipped her glass, feeling very alone, and a little worried. Looked like this thing with Donovan could go one of two ways for her.

Was Donovan still cut-and-run like Ash, or ready for a fresh future, like Evan?

Was Sofie more like Glo, embittered to the point of giving up, or Charlie, who embraced the second chance and was happier for it?

Time knew. But it’d be a while before it told.





By week’s end, Donovan was making himself at home. Apparently, he thought, having just watched the movers set up the king-size bed in the master bedroom.

With all the junk he’d been hauling out of the basement, and all the bending he’d been doing over the fireplace in the great room, he needed a better place to sleep than a crappy air mattress or a springy couch.

His and Connor’s impromptu wrestling match hadn’t helped, either. Connor was younger than him, so the bastard bounced back instantly. Meanwhile, Donovan iced his shoulder and wondered when the hell the new aches and pains had started.

Al, the head delivery guy for Cozy Home, sliced the plastic off the mattress with an expertise that only came from moving mattresses for a living. He wasn’t a small guy, with a sizable gut and a black brace wrapped around his lower back. Nor was he young. Donovan put him at fifty or fifty-five, and that was being generous.

“All set, Mr. Pate.” Al extended a beefy mitt, and Donovan shook his hand. “I’ll see myself out.”

“Thanks.” Donovan stood over the newly delivered bed dominating the room. The room could hold it—it was the master suite, after all—but he’d also ordered a big-ass bed. At his height he wasn’t risking his feet hanging off the end. And after many restless nights, he was ready for a good night’s sleep. He’d like to fall into it now. But he couldn’t.

A reporter was coming today from The Evergreen Gazette. Sofie called this morning to give him a heads-up. She’d come by on Wednesday as promised, to meet with the caterer, but he’d been out. Got home as she was following the woman to her car. Other than a wave over her shoulder, he hadn’t seen or talked to her for a week.

Until this morning. His heart had hit his gut when his phone rang with a local number. Connor never called—didn’t need to call since he was here all the freaking time—so Donovan figured it was Scampi. He answered, and Sofie told him the paper wanted to do a piece on the mansion for the charity dinner.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it if only to get to see her again. Sighing, he turned and found Connor in the doorway.

“We won’t have everything done today,” Connor said. Ant had come out to help with some last-minute yard cleanup. The indoor greenhouse had been cleaned up, too, by Connor since he conceded the wrestling match. To be fair, Donovan had tried to warn Connor he was scrappier than he looked. “But the yard will be photo ready by the time the paper gets here. No worries.”

“Not worried.” Donovan knew things would come together. Plus, Charlie was taking the photos and he trusted her to shoot the place in its best light.

His friend’s eyes cut past him. “Giant mattress.”

“Huge.”

Connor gave him a shit-eating grin. “You bought her a bed.”

“Piss off. I bought a bed.”

“To sleep with her in.”

More than sleep… if I can get her to stay. Laying Sofie on the table in the great room, boosting her up on the washer—both fun. But Donovan was sick of fighting one structural impediment or another. He wanted to lay her down and take the time to do the things he wanted to do to her.

And there were a lot of things.

“Lotta room to groove,” Connor put in.

“Don’t you have something to mulch?” Donovan grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah.” He turned to leave.

Donovan followed, but before he flipped off the lights, he studied that big, spacious bed again. And thought of Sofie on it.

Acres of room to groove.

With a smile of his own, he closed the door.





Sofie arrived an hour before the reporter was due to show. She wore her best navy blue pencil skirt and a tight, but not too tight, white shirt with beaded navy blue, silver, and white jewelry around her neck, wrists, and dangling from her ears. Her hair was up, her heels were tall, and she was ready to kick some reporter butt.