“Shoot.”
“Behind the utility room at the mansion is a hallway leading to several rooms. The largest appears to be where the former groundskeeper kept his stuff.”
Donovan had been avoiding that hallway. One thing at a time, and right now, the basement and the bedrooms upstairs had consumed him. Plus the great room, though the fireplace was less something that needed done and more something he needed to do to keep from going mad.
He’d been away from his work for a few weeks now and already his hands ached to create. Building and working with stone had become a reprieve from his life, maybe even an addiction. Craftsmanship had been an outlet for several frustrations.
“Found a few metal and wooden shelves—basically a bunch of old shit in there you’re probably going to dump,” Connor continued.
He didn’t care what Connor took out of that house. Save him the trouble of sorting through it. But Donovan could also see his buddy was playing down how much he wanted those forgotten shelves. Connor had a way of making old things new again, of seeing the potential in what others viewed as trash. Now that Donovan thought about it, that attribute was probably one of the reasons they were friends.
“And you want it.”
Connor’s eyes went to his. “Apartment’s too small. Be a good place to start an indoor greenhouse. Put a couple of seedlings in there, fresh herbs. Might use the space to start some of my lavender.” He took a drink and eyed his glass. “If you don’t care.”
Donovan swallowed a smile. He knew his buddy needed his hands in the dirt the way he needed his own wrapped around rocks. Putting seedlings in, watching them grow, cultivating life, that was Connor’s thing. And if there was any good that could come out of the mansion and his part-time use of it, he’d make damn sure his friends benefited.
“Take whatever you need.”
Connor lifted his chin. His eyes brightened. “Yeah?”
Donovan shrugged, even though he knew what a huge deal this was for his friend. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks, man. Thought I would start with…” His voice trailed off and when he didn’t finish his sentence, Donovan followed Connor’s eyes to the front of the bar where a man and woman, linked arm-in-arm, walked in.
“Holy crap. He got her to go out with him again.” Connor’s voice was an amused lilt. “Will wonders never cease?”
Donovan was not amused. Mainly because Scott Torsett had an arm wrapped snugly around Scampi’s waist, and, he saw as they walked by, his fingers were dangerously close to her ass.
They stopped at the opposite end of the bar and Donovan was grateful for the row of beer taps hiding him and Connor from view. He could see Scampi through the gaps. She wore a royal blue, billowy shirt and pants leaving little to the imagination. Tight, black, kind of shiny, the material cupped her ass in a way that should be illegal. Imagining what was hiding under those pants was enough to make his mouth dry, and his mind wander.
She looked amazing, and something about her being within view yet out of reach—and being touched by Scott Torsett for God’s sake—made Donovan crazy.
He was going to need another beer.
“Hey man.” Connor’s hand hit Donovan’s tense shoulder and squeezed. “No brawling. We’re just here to drink.”
Donovan had a death grip on his mug, the condensation wet and cold against his skin. Maintain. Connor was right. They were here to drink.
Scott’s hand moved along Sofie’s back, his fingers inching lower. If Donovan didn’t have hold of the glass, his hand would’ve curled into a fist.
The lawyer’s palm slid to her backside.
A growl pushed its way past Donovan’s throat.
Sofie expertly slid away from his touch, casually turning her body so that Scott’s hand was on her hip. The smile she gave him was pained.
Connor took his hand from Donovan’s shoulder. “God, what an asshole.”
He hadn’t planned on kicking anyone’s ass tonight, but Connor’s comment was as good as getting the blessing to rearrange Torsett’s face. The rigidity of Sofie’s body showed she was clearly uncomfortable. Donovan stood from his seat.
Through the blood pounding against his eardrums, he heard Connor say, “Got your back.”
Scott bent his head closer to Sofie as Donovan closed in, walking calmly, trying not to appear murderous. That same—soon-to-be-broken—hand traveled to Sofie’s butt again, this time squeezing.
Yep, her date was going to get his ass kicked.
He stepped over to the not-so-cozy pair and interrupted by putting a hand on Scott’s shoulder. Scott spun around, which caused the side effect of his hand leaving her body.
Perfect.
“Donny?” Scott blinked a few times and then he smiled like he was relieved. “Hey, long time no see, buddy.”
“Get the hell out of here, Scott.”
His smile dropped. Tension replaced relief as his shoulders stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“You’re excused.” Donovan jerked his head in the direction of the front door. “Out.”
“What are you doing?” This from Sofie.
Not accustomed to backing down, the lawyer straightened his back and glared up at him. “You have a problem, Pate?”
“You’re about to have five problems. The fingers on that hand.”
“Okay, okay.” Sofie put a palm on each of their chests and applied pressure, inserting herself between them. “Maybe everyone should calm down for a second.”
“I’ll give him three.” Donovan hadn’t been in a fight in a while, but he guessed it was like riding a bike. And right now, his fist was twitching for some action. Bouncing it off Torsett’s weak chin would be satisfying. Donovan would probably sleep like a baby tonight.
“You’re making her uncomfortable,” Scott said, his hand moving to grasp her waist.
Donovan leaned into Sofie’s palm. “One.”
“Donovan.” Her tone was a warning.
He kept his eyes on Scott. “Tell me, Scampi, the way this douche is touching you isn’t making you uncomfortable, and I’ll leave you two to your drinks.”
Scott glared up at him.
“I’m fine,” she clipped, giving Donovan another shove before dropping her hands to her sides. But she hadn’t told him to go away, and she hadn’t denied Scott was making her uncomfortable.
“I was right. Lying is your new thing.”
She sputtered a disgusted sound.
“I’ve had her ass in my hands,” he told Torsett. “I’ve had her mouth on mine. I know when she likes someone touching her, and when she doesn’t. And man, she does not like you touching her. So again, you got two more seconds before I escort you out by the throat.”
Scott licked his lips. He was starting to look nervous. He turned to Scampi. “You guys have a thing I should know about?”
“What? No,” she answered, sounding a little offended.
“Using me to get back at an ex-boyfriend, really? I was wondering why you asked me out for coffee.”
She asked him out? Donovan felt his blood pressure raise.
“And you,” Scott said to him. “Threatening me? You’re as immature as you used to be.”
If Torsett was trying to hurt his feelings, he failed.
“You’re as chicken-shit as you used to be,” Donovan returned.
“Donny’s not my boyfriend. Wasn’t ever my boyfriend, actually,” she muttered to herself.
Donovan slid his eyes to Sofie. She jutted her chin out. He could do without the tone.
“I have to be in court Monday morning,” Scott said, straightening his jacket, “or I’d show Sofie how an ass-kicking is really done.”
A low laugh left Donovan’s throat. “Lucky me, I guess.”
“Good night, Sofia,” Scott said.
The farther he got away, the better Donovan felt. Until Sofie promised, “I’ll call you.”
“She won’t,” Donovan called after him.
Scott started to respond, but someone he k
new interrupted him at the door, slapping his arm and extending a hand. Attention diverted, Scott smiled and shook the older man’s hand.
Donovan felt himself smile.
“Thanks a lot!” Sofie hissed.
“You’re welcome.”
“I don’t need saving, you know.”
That was probably true. But not the point.
“You telling me you like the way he touched you? Because from where I stood, didn’t look that way.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. He was right. She hadn’t liked it. He thought of her uncomfortable posture when Torsett touched her and his temper shot to eleven. He turned for the door, where Torsett was still loitering.
“I’ll be right back.”
She gripped his forearm and tugged. “Okay, okay.”
Donovan faced her.
“No, all right? I didn’t like him touching me. But this is what it’s like for a girl on a date. Guys test their boundaries.”
He wondered how many other guys had “tested her boundaries,” and felt a surge of inexplicable jealousy. She wasn’t his. Like she said, she never was. He hated the idea of her being mistreated by anyone, but he couldn’t seem to focus on that. Not with her warm palm on his arm. There was always something about her touch that calmed him.
Though right about now, her touch was revving him up.
“What if he would have hit you?” she asked, concern bleeding into her gaze.
He shrugged. “I would have hit him back.”
“He could have hurt you.”
God, she was cute when she worried about him. Made him forget he didn’t want her to.
Chuckling, he said, “No, Scampi. He couldn’t have.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, tough guy. Scott was my ride. Now you have to drive me home. I’m ordering a drink.”
Fine by him.
“And you’re paying,” she informed him.
His lips twitched, curling into a smile. He held up a hand to signal the bartender.
CHAPTER NINE
The bartender shuffled off to get Sofie a glass of white wine. She kept her eyes on the bottles lining the bar shelves and tried to decide if she was more frustrated or embarrassed by Donovan’s running off her date.
Coin toss.
She turned to meet his narrowed gaze, determined to get the upper hand before he pissed in a corner and claimed her as property.
“So this is your plan? Follow me around and thwart my attempts to get laid? I didn’t know you had more than a passing interest in who I slept with.”
Donovan’s face went from casually peeved to severe. Granted, she was needling him on purpose, and, technically, lying like he’d accused her of a few minutes ago. No way had she planned on sleeping with Scott Torsett tonight… if ever. Yes, he was nice to hang out with—or at least he was until he’d had one too many vodka tonics at dinner. By the time they arrived at Salty Dog, he’d obviously felt comfortable enough to get handsy. His roaming palms were nothing she couldn’t handle—was something she’d handled before with other guys. She wasn’t kidding about men testing boundaries—they did it all the time—but she certainly hadn’t needed Donny to run interference.
“Didn’t follow you here, Scampi.”
He tipped his head to the left, and she spotted Connor at the other side of the bar. He held up his beer in a silent cheers.
“Came for a drink, saw you being assaulted,” Donovan said.
“I would hardly call that assault.”
“You were alone; it could’ve turned into one.”
An out-of-place shiver iced her spine. She doubted Scott would have gone further, and she hadn’t planned on being alone with him anywhere. Then again, he’d had a few drinks. Who knew how much braver one more would’ve made him? Dating was risky no matter what, but she thought she knew Scott well enough to feel comfortable with him.
Her eyes went to Donovan. Maybe she was a bad judge of character.
But he never made her skin crawl when he touched her, or made her uncomfortable when he stood close. His nearness now was having the opposite effect, dancing on the line of attraction. All over it, actually.
And he’d been right. She hadn’t appreciated Scott’s hands on her body.
“Torsett, party of two,” the hostess announced from her podium.
“He left,” Donovan shouted across the bar.
The hostess opened her mouth to ask another question before opting not to and scratching the name off her clipboard.
Scott, done chatting at the door and on his way out, sent Sofie a look of betrayal before storming outside. Fantastic. She’d bet the chances of planning Torsett & Torsett Law’s next Christmas party hovered between slim and none.
Her wine was delivered and Donovan snatched the glass before she could take it.
“My tab,” he instructed the bartender, resting his hand on the small of Sofie’s back. She noted not a single alarm rose in her head. In fact, she felt safer with him than she did anyone. Safe. That word again.
Strange.
As he led her to where Connor sat, she tried to ignore the warmth spreading along her waist and up her back, the same charged current she’d sworn she imagined the moment he touched her years ago.
Every tingle, every surge, had returned with a vengeance.
Connor stood and offered his seat.
She waved him off. “You don’t have to do that.”
He tossed some bills onto the bar. “Only planned on staying for one, Sofe. Sorry about the display of vigilante justice.”
“Thanks.” She smiled.
Couldn’t be helped. Connor was charming.
“Don’t stay out past your bedtime.” With that thinly veiled instruction, and a flash of his dimples, he headed out the door.
Donovan pulled out the barstool for her.
She slid onto the seat. “You have these weird moments of polite interspersed with Neanderthal, did you know that?”
He didn’t answer. Just as well since the question was rhetorical.
Lifting his beer, he swallowed a drink and licked his bottom lip. Her eyes zeroed in on the fullness of that lip, remembering the way it felt to have his mouth on hers. If only there were some way to get that part of her brain lobotomized. Cut out the entire Donny Pate part…
She raised her glass and guzzled down a drink, swallowing past the burn in her throat. Wine wasn’t a guzzling kind of drink, but her thoughts needed to be bound and gagged. Plying them with alcohol seemed a good start to getting them to comply.
Depositing her purse on top of the bar next to her elbow, she and Donny sat in silence for a while, watching the patrons and bar staff bustle about.
Salty Dog’s highly polished wooden walls, booths covered in vinyl the shade of terra cotta, and shining lacquered tables made for a comfortable, warm atmosphere. Framed paintings by the locals were screwed into the walls, one of them she recognized as Evan’s star from his and Asher’s children’s book, The Adventures of Mad Cow.
They’d hung the cartoon cow in here after last year’s Starving Artist auction. Which reminded her, she needed to ask Evan if he had anything to donate for the Open Arms dinner. A painting of Mad Cow would get a ton of bids.
She smiled at the painting, the character Charlie called “a badass bovine.” Mad Cow’s attractive scowl reminded Sofie of Evan.
In a way, reminded her of Donovan, too. Though Donovan’s scowl was somehow sadder.
“Ruby was really excited to see the mansion,” she said, breaking the silence between them.
Slowly, Donovan turned his head. “Sounded like it.”
“I couldn’t find you to say good-bye. I wanted to thank you for stepping in for the tour. I know I kind of sprang her on you.”
“You wanted to thank me for that but not for helping you end your miserable date?” he asked with a small smile.
Unwilling to reopen that can of worms, she continued deliberately. “So, I just wanted to thank you for the suggestions about how to set
up the kitchen. You were convincing.” She spun her wineglass, watching the golden liquid wash onto the inside of the glass. “Sounded like you were all in.”
“I am.”
“Oh.” News to her.
“I thought we could stay away from each other,” he said, making her wonder if he was suggesting he couldn’t resist her any more than she could resist him.
She allowed her eyes to graze him from head to toe. He looked good leaning, his elbows on the bar, battered black boots hooked on the bottom rung of the stool. He was in black tonight—black jeans, snug black tee outlining impressive biceps. Ink tracked up both arms. Years ago, he had a black leather jacket. She wondered if he still did.
“Not going to be able to stay away from you now, Scampi,” he said, his voice low. Her heart kicked up a notch. “You have horrible taste in men.” His full lips twitched at the corner as another smile curved his mouth.
Gosh, she loved that smile. Would like to see it more often.
“You’re hilarious.” She shook her head at him but smiled back. When she lifted her wineglass, he turned serious.
“It’s good what you’re doing for those kids.”
Her heart levitated. It was good. “You’re helping them, too.”
“Reluctantly.”
“Now who’s the liar?” They watched one another for a beat. When she couldn’t take the intensity of his unwavering stare, she averted her eyes and changed the subject, filling the air with a topic they had in common.
“Ruby said if the children were there, helping serve the dinner, helping cook the dinner, helping ready the ballroom, they would feel more included. Like they belonged. She said a lot of those kids are locked in their own heads.”
His eyes went to his beer. He stayed silent.
“Pate Mansion is the perfect setup. For the dinner. For the campout. And the kitchen… I mean seriously, it is a huge kitchen,” she continued blathering. She paused to study his expression but got nothing. “They probably resent the idea of that much structure now that I think about it.”
“They appreciate it. Kids who don’t have any structure secretly want it.” His light eyes locked on hers, and for a moment she saw him—really saw him. No veil. She’d seen him like this once before—in a dark library the moment before the moment things had turned so very bad. She’d seen him so clearly then.
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