Rescuing the Bad Boy (Second Chance #2)(81)

She pushed both hands into his hair and brought his face to hers. As they continued making out, he vowed before he left Evergreen Cove that was exactly what he’d do.

He’d make it up to her.

He’d find a way to give her that first time back.

A good memory to replace the bad.





Flames crackled and popped in the fire pit. Sofie watched the orange and yellow sparks, enjoying the warmth, enjoying her well-earned exhaustion.

“Beer? I don’t have wine.”

A cold bottle appeared in front of her.

“I’ll drink a beer,” she answered, accepting it.

Donovan sat down next to her on one of the huge logs Ant had shaped into rustic benches earlier in the week. The man was magic with a chainsaw. She took a sip of her beer, letting the drink slide down her throat, and looked around the grounds. The outside of the mansion had really come along. The grass was cut, the weeds were cleared, and a few overgrown bushes had been uprooted and burned. She could easily picture a group of kids from Open Arms camped out in the yard or gathered around the fire pit, marshmallows skewered onto the ends of sticks.

“Two days away.” He tipped his own bottle and drank. “Happened fast.”

Things had happened fast. One moment the dinner loomed three months into the future, the same day she’d stepped out of the back room to find this man standing in her shop. And if someone would have told her she would be sleeping with him, practically living with him, by the time the dinner rolled around, she would have laughed until she seized.

Only a crazy person would jump back into bed with Donovan Pate.

Hmm.

“Connor is showing up for the campout,” Donny said. “He offered to help set up the tents, take the kids on a tour, and teach them what plants are poisonous and which aren’t.”

She smiled. Sounded like something Connor would do. “And you?”

“Me?” Donny lifted a black eyebrow. With his long hair and dark clothes, leather jacket—yes, the same one—and weather-beaten boots, he reminded her of a pirate. “I’m supervising the fire. I hope there are enough volunteers to help keep track of the kids.” He frowned as he studied the trees in the distance. “Hate the idea one of them wandering off. Maybe we could put little tracking devices on them or something.”

Sofie laughed, causing him to smile over at her.

Another unexpected side effect of being with Donovan—he made her happy. Legitimately happy.

“That’ll free you up for the girlie shit you gotta do.” He took another drink.

Feigning offense, she said, “Girlie shit? What, you don’t think I can start a fire? Roast marshmallows? Pitch a tent?”

His throat bobbed when he laughed. “Sweetheart, I know you can pitch a tent.”

She rolled her eyes, but secretly, or maybe not so secretly, she loved when he teased her.

You love him, period.

The thought came out of nowhere, slapping the smile off her face. Or maybe the thought had come from somewhere she’d been trying to ignore for the last week. She bit her lip and grew silent, staring into the fire for answers. She couldn’t afford to love him. She couldn’t afford to give him another single part of her. Not after he’d taken the part she hadn’t realized was precious until she’d trusted it with him.

“What’s your place like in New York?” she asked, desperately needing a change of subject, and to remind herself their time together was dwindling.

He blew out a breath, took another pull of his beer. “It’s like… Not mine.”

“Not yours? What are you, like a squatter?”

“Yeah,” he answered, his expression serious. “Kinda. Alessandre, you know, the B-and-B guy, has a swanky place in the Hamptons. And by swanky I mean multimillion-dollar new-build perched on the ocean. His kitchen is all glass”—he swept an arm in a wide arc—“and the balcony leads out to a concrete patio. Every damn week he throws cocktail parties for the neighbors. People whose outfits cost more than your car.”

He lowered his arm and shook his head. “Last place I pictured myself living, that’s for damn sure. Thought I’d be there for a short time. Ended up staying.”

“How did you meet him?”

“Caroline.”

Wow, she was glad she knew he hadn’t had a girlfriend in the time he’d been away or that name may have caused a spike of jealousy.

“My grandmother’s former chef,” he clarified. “She lived here—at the cottage at the back of the property.”

Right. They’d driven by the cottage when he’d shown her the grounds earlier. Shrouded in pines, Sofie hadn’t been able to see much of the place.

“Caroline was more than hired help to me.” Donny studied the label on the bottle in his hand, but Sofie bet he looked right through it. “She was more my grandmother than Gertrude.”

Hearing her name, Gertie lifted her fuzzy head from her place at his feet.

“Sorry to wake you, girl.” He ruffled her ears. When he pulled his hand away, Gertie laid her head back on the grass, blew out a heavy sigh, and closed her eyes. “I knew I was leaving the Cove, so I asked Caroline if she had any idea where I could work. New York was as good a choice as anywhere else. I just wanted to get the hell out of here.”