Rescuing the Bad Boy (Second Chance #2)(89)

When his lips left hers, a deep growl reverberated from his throat. “Lace.”

She raised her arms and looped them around his neck. “Surprise.”

He squeezed her ass again. “When is this thing over?”

He was talking about the party. But her thoughts were elsewhere. Because the “thing” between them would be over soon as well. That talk was coming, she guessed.

“Things are winding down,” she said. “The auction winners will be announced promptly at ten.” She turned her head to take in the clock on the far wall. “I should probably get back in there. I need to draw the winners.”

“I’ll help.” He let go of her rear, his hands smoothing her skirt. He straightened and she turned to make her way to the ballroom. Before she got too far, his fingers laced with hers. “Never showed you,” he said, tugging her back to him. “Used your rock.”

He stepped away from the fireplace to reveal the jagged heart-shaped stone in the very center of the design. When she’d found it, she thought it was interesting. Not necessarily usable, since the heart was imperfect. But in the design with other imperfect pieces, it was… well, the whole was kind of perfect.

“Wow,” she whispered.

“The only piece that could’ve gone there. I swear to you, there was this exact shaped hole.”

A heart-shaped hole. And the only piece able to fill the hole was the piece she’d found. So much symbolism. She said nothing and his comment hung in the air as the clock ticked away behind them.

Running out of time. They were running out of time for everything.

“Better get things wrapped up,” he said, squeezing her fingers with his. “Sooner we get these people out of my house, the better.”

She nodded. The sooner they got these people out of his house, the sooner she would get to be with Donovan alone. And soon after, he would be packing up and leaving the Cove.

Bittersweet emotions clogging her chest, she kept hold of his hand and walked with him out of the great room.





Donovan and Sofie ran smack into Evan, who was coming from the direction of the ballroom. Asher trailed behind him blowing a trail of vapor from his mouth. Donovan had already given him shit about his new electronic smoking habit, but he knew, a former smoker himself, how hard it was to quit.

“Looking for a drink away from the stiffs,” Evan announced.

Donovan looked to Sofie, who gave his fingers a quick squeeze, then let go. After she sauntered toward the ballroom, Donovan said to Evan, “I can help you with that.”

His buddy’s arched brow said he had thoughts about that silent bit of communication between Donovan and Sofie, but he ignored him.

The three of them walked to the dining room where a handful of people were having cocktails. Faith was in here, too. No sign of her douchebag ex-fiancé, but Connor was nearby. Donovan was glad. He didn’t know what Michael was up to, but Faith was better off without him. Hopefully, Connor could run interference if necessary.

Donovan cut through the crowd with a polite smile, ducked behind the bar, and grabbed a bottle of bourbon and a stack of plastic cups.

Five minutes later, Asher, Evan, and Donovan were sitting in the back of Donovan’s topless Jeep parked in the field behind the mansion.

Like Donovan, Evan hadn’t bothered with the tie tonight, dressed in pants and a button-down shirt. Ash hadn’t bothered dressing up at all—in his signature all-black ensemble of jeans and a tee and cowboy boots. Donovan undid another button on his shirt, anticipating the moment he could get out of the stiff slacks and into broken-in jeans.

“Hell of a party in there, man.” Asher chucked back a shot and held up his cup.

Evan refilled it. “Yeah, impressed.”

Donovan shrugged, finishing his own drink. “Didn’t do anything. Just gave Sofie the space she needed.” Except the space between the two of them. Where they were concerned, he hadn’t given her much space at all. And she hadn’t given him any. He tried to make that sound bad in his head. Couldn’t do it.

“Who woulda thought?” Evan said contemplatively as he gazed in the direction of the mansion. “Us three screw-ups making something of ourselves.”

Asher grunted. “Who says we’re there?”

Evan socked him in the arm. “You were on the cover of Rolling Stone, *.”

“You’re both famous,” Donovan said. “I’m just a layman who builds fireplaces.”

“Dumbass.” Asher held out an arm. “You own a freaking mansion.”

“Yeah, you own a mansion,” Evan agreed.

Donovan felt their eyes on his profile, knowing this was their way of trying to draw an answer out of him. The answer they wanted to hear. What they didn’t know, or maybe what they did know and were in denial about, was that nothing had changed with the mansion. Donovan was still selling. He was still leaving.

“Mine for now,” he said. “But the mansion is going to belong to Alessandre soon.”

“You gettin’ a new place in the Cove?” This from Evan.

“Nope. Going back.”

“So this thing with you and Sofie…” Evan started.

He bit the inside of his cheek. This thing with him and Sofie. What was there to say about that?

“We’ll work it out.” Not an answer, but the only answer he was willing to give.