Bringing Home the Bad Boy

by Jessica Lemmon

  Though that night had nothing to do with crushes or when she was fifteen.

  There’d been something else there. Something other than sexual tension. A connection, almost. Artist-to-artist, or maybe it was their shared grief for Rae, or the fact that Evan wasn’t sleeping and Charlie cared why he wasn’t sleeping.

  That’s why she’d chosen the black bathing suit. Because that connection was as dangerous as the heart flutter. That connection could turn their friendship into something it shouldn’t be. Something she couldn’t allow it to be.

  She made her place on a towel on the dock, lathered up with sunscreen, and soaked in the rays. Evan stood in water up to his chest, Lyon paddling a few feet away from him. She considered unlooping the sarong over her legs so her tan wouldn’t be uneven, but opted for safety disguised as modesty.

  Last night, after Evan had grazed his hand along her cheek and brushed his knuckles against the inside of her knee, she’d run inside in a panic, shut off all the lights, and hid. Not exactly the most mature of reactions.

  Maybe she was fifteen years old.

  Upstairs, she peeped out her bedroom window and watched as he swaggered down the beach back to his house. Not able to help herself, she’d stared—admiring the fluid yet masculine way he moved, every intentional footfall, and the sharp lines and curved planes of his body.

  She hadn’t been able to help it. She was single bordering on spinsterhood, and he was an incredibly attractive guy. Sue her.

  But.

  She couldn’t keep objectifying him if they planned on being neighbors for years to come. He was still her friend, still Rae’s husband, and still completely and entirely out of the realm of “available bachelors” for herself.

  Despite her inner speech, her eyes traced the lion tattoo on his shoulder now, its mane curling over one chiseled bicep. And when Lyon commanded to be thrown into “deep” water and Evan turned to placate him, she got a view of the roses on his other shoulder: two big blooms, and a swirl shaped like an infinity sign closing in around them. Beautiful artistry. Designed by his own hand, executed by another, but—Evan had told her—under his watchful eye and instruction. They had to be perfect. Because what they represented was too important to be anything less.

  And what they represented was family. A lion for his son, and roses for his mom and his aunt. Then there was the sparrow on his forearm for Rae. His body had been etched with ink honoring his favorite people. Which said so much about who he was and how deeply he loved.

  How wonderful to be a part of the artwork on his skin—to be carefully chosen, drawn with precision by his own hand, and permanently showcased on his amazing body. Not on a whim or because he was a tattoo artist, but because those people mattered enough to him to earn the privilege.

  Against her will, her lips lifted into a sad smile. She hoped one day to matter that much to someone.

  Lyon splashed underwater and popped back up, giggling. Evan, wide smile on his face, scooped up a handful of water and wet his dark brown hair, sweeping it off his forehead. She studied the newest bit of ink on his body—the evergreens—and allowed herself to imagine that it’d had something to do with her.

  Then she chastised herself for being selfish. He’d made Rae’s dreams come true. And since her life was cut so very short, that mattered more than any silly fantasies Charlie entertained now.

  She hadn’t realized Evan was so close until her sighed exhalation drew his attention. He turned his head in her direction and caught her staring. She tried to stop, honest to God, but how could she turn away from what was near perfection in the flesh?

  The long ends of his wet hair curled and dripped down his neck, beading his wide shoulders with water. His sunglasses were perched on his nose, his eyes scrunched at the sides. Crow’s feet fanned out from each corner, far more attractive than she cared to admit. The sunglasses on her own nose hid her perusal of his fine body, and for that, she was glad. Especially when he approached, his powerful arms slicing through the water, tattoos flexing with each step.

  Sorry, R—

  “Ace.”

  “Yeah?” she said a little too quickly, a little too loudly, and maybe a little guiltily.

  “Don’t you swim? I had no idea you were such a princess.”

  “Yes, I swim,” she said—this time defensively. “I just washed my hair.”

  Lyon and Evan gave her twin, confused expressions.

  “Why are you wearin’ a dress?” This question came from Lyon, who scrunched his equally perplexed face up at her.

  “It’s not a dress,” she started. “It’s—”

  “Ace. It’s a dress. Lose it.”

  What… had she been about to say? She had no idea. She had nothing. Nothing at all, not after Evan said the words of her daydreams.

  Ace, lose the dress.

  “No, that’s okay, I’m going to—eee!” The squeal was due to two very cold-with-wet-lake-water hands on her ankles. The squeal died in her throat when he yanked the sarong open and exposed her bare legs, water dripping from his forearms onto her warm skin.

  A small smirk sat on his mouth.

  Lyon burst out laughing. “Don’t be a baby, Aunt Charlie! It’s not that cold.”

  “Yeah, Aunt Charlie,” Evan said, a certain teasing tone in his low voice. He took off his sunglasses and dropped them on the dock. His amazing blue eyes were on her as his hands grasped her legs a few inches above her knees. “I’ll keep you warm.”

  This was said under his breath while Lyon happily doggie paddled back and forth a short distance away.

  Aunt Charlie.

  You’re Rae’s best friend. Lyon’s aunt. Evan’s friend. Start acting like it.

  Shaking off her inappropriate reaction, she forced a wide smile and, recent hair washing be damned, stood and dove off the dock and into the lake. When she resurfaced, she shrieked again.

  Because it was freaking cold.

  “You lie!” she accused Lyon between shallow breaths. “It’s freezing in here!”

  Lyon found this hilarious, so she swam out to him as he tried to swim away, his laughter high and completely infectious. This kid. His heart, his big beautiful heart, was such a perfect split between Rae and Evan. And his joyful, rambunctious spirit reminded her so much of Rae, it caused a dart of pain in her chest.

  Before she could get caught up in memories and melancholy, Evan joined them and tossed Lyon twice before turning to her. “You’re next.”

  She paddled away from him. “No, no, no.”

  “Yes,” he insisted, dark intent in his eyes.

  “Do it, Dad!”

  “Evan—”

  Too late. Evan had a hold of her ankle and was tugging her. Her backward strokes did no good, and water nearly went up her nose as he dragged her toward him. Then his hand went from her ankle to higher on her leg while she treaded water with her arms.

  “Don’t you dare.” She made a feeble attempt to escape again.

  “Do it, Dad,” Lyon repeated, each word choked with laughter.

  “You heard my boy.” His voice was low and sexy as his hands slipped to her waist.

  “Evan…” she started.

  He had her out of the water before she finished and, despite her expelled noooooo!, tossed her a few feet, where she landed with an inelegant splash.

  When she came up out of the water, a huge hunk of her hair was slapped over her face like a clinging octopus. She moved it away to see Evan’s smile as wide as she’d seen it in forever, followed by a belly laugh that’d been missing from his repertoire for much too long.

  Lyon joined in, and she lost her anger when a huge smile found her face, followed by reluctant laughter of her own.

  Dipping her head in the water, she smoothed her hair back and gave Lyon the bad news. “Gonna pay for that, buddy,” she told Lyon, swimming to him as he attempted to get away. Before she dunked him, she gave him a second to hold his nose, then pushed him under. Both he and his safety-orange vest popped to the surface, his
smile intact, his dimple denting one cheek. Then he started his own game—spinning in circles attempting to start his own whirlpool.

  Evan swam out and put first one hand, then the other around her waist, grasping her with flexed fingers. Shocked at the feel of his hands on her, she turned to dunk him first, putting her cold fingers on his solid shoulders and pushing. She hadn’t expected it to work, and for a moment, it didn’t. Putting all her weight on her arms required her to leap out of the water a bit, so she was there, hovering, her breasts kind of in his face, her arms straight, her hands on his shoulders.

  Keeping his eyes on hers, and the sly, barely-there smile on his lips, he finally let her push him under. In a move she should have seen coming, he took her with him, pressing on her shoulders and sending her down. Once submerged in the murky water, those hands moved to her waist and he tugged her against him. While she couldn’t see him, she could feel him. Hard, wet muscle slid against her Lycra front, causing her skin to erupt in goose bumps that weren’t caused by the cold lake.

  Her hands covered his and she moved her leg to kick to the surface, her thigh brushing against something else. Something… hard. And she was sure it wasn’t biceps or a triceps or any other sort of -ceps.

  He gave her a slight boost and she popped to the surface and swept her hair off her forehead. “Sorry,” she sputtered when he came up.

  He pulled a hand down his face and then back through his hair. “You should be.” A salacious smile graced his mouth. “That’s your fault.”

  Before she could react to that naughty comment, Lyon’s voice cut in.

  “Dad, I’m hungry.”

  He jerked his chin toward the dock. “Paddle in, kiddo. Charlie and I are right behind you.”

  Relieved to escape Evan—and Nessie hiding below the water there—she started to wade to the dock.

  He stopped her with a hand on her wrist, pulling her to him again. “What are you wearing?”

  Since this was the last thing she expected him to say, she blinked at him.

  Twice.

  “What?”

  He glanced down. “This suit.” He gestured to the dock. “The dress-wrap thing. What happened to the hot pink one? I liked it better.”

  She couldn’t think of a single response. Not one reasonable response came to mind while his hand rested on her waist, his feet on the lake floor, and her arms treading—needlessly, she might add, since he was holding her above the water.

  Okay, she could think of one response. Her eyes moved to his mouth, those firm-looking lips, the way they were slightly quirked, the shallow lines around them from where he’d once smiled often.

  She wanted to kiss him. Just lean forward a scant inch or two and lay one on him. The lake had ceased being cold. Her pulse had kicked up a notch. And Evan’s eyes trickled from her eyes to her mouth.

  Therefore she blurted, “Rae.”

  Yep. That’s what she said.

  His eyebrows slammed down, his half-smile gone like a rogue wave had washed it from his face.

  “What about Rae?” he rumbled.

  “She…”

  Something. Words would be helpful.

  “Um. She hated the water,” she continued, desperate to change the subject, to remind both of them—mainly herself—who he belonged to.

  And who he didn’t.

  What Charlie needed—more than anything—was for them to both remember she was Rae’s best friend, or used to be anyway… but that kind of thing didn’t really have an expiration date, did it?

  She couldn’t just float here, enjoy the feel of his hands anchoring her to him, and think inappropriate, sexy thoughts about his mouth and what she’d like him to do with it… Another tingle shot through her and she gave her head a small shake to realign her thoughts.

  Inappropriate.

  Her gaze went to the dock where Lyon was climbing up the ladder.

  “Lyon does well in the water,” she said. “I think Rae would like that, in spite of the fact she never liked it.” Charlie heard how uncomfortable she sounded, which made her notice Evan noticing she was uncomfortable.

  His reaction was the opposite of what she’d hoped. Rather than let her loose and swim away, his hold tightened and he tugged her an inch closer. “Thought the same thing recently. She would be proud,” he answered, too close to her, his confused-slash-incensed expression in a holding pattern.

  Aware he was staring at her, his face frozen into a look she was pretty sure wasn’t happy, she pressed on.

  “Rae would have liked it here. She hated to swim, which, I assure you, was more for cosmetic reasons.” She let out an uncomfortable, brief laugh. “Getting in the lake after her hair was done, or getting brushed up against by a fish—the great outdoors wasn’t her thing, you know?”

  He shook his head, but whether it was in agreement or in disagreement, or in wonder at her never-ending monologue, she wasn’t sure.

  “You probably already know that.” She cleared her throat. “Since you were married to her.”

  His hold tightened and he dragged her even closer. Their noses were practically touching. “You making a point, Ace?”

  Maybe. But she hadn’t yet figured out what it was. But, hey, she could talk her way to it.

  “She liked the attention she got from the boys whenever she fussed over getting in the water,” Charlie continued blathering. “She preferred never to be this close to wildlife. Squirrels terrified her. She was a true city girl who—”

  “Dad! Phone!”

  She used the interruption as an excuse to pull away from Evan and give herself some much-needed breathing room.

  Lyon stood on the dock, cell phone to his ear, holding a towel around his body with one hand.

  Evan hadn’t looked away from her so she pointed to the dock and said, “Your phone.”

  “I heard.” He continued staring at her, brow furrowed.

  “Dad!”

  “Yeah, bud,” he called out. Then he turned back to Charlie and erased the space she’d created, so close, her breasts grazed his bare chest. Then he just… watched her.

  She held her breath and listened to her heart pound relentlessly.

  His eyes narrowed.

  Water lapped around them.

  In the distance, a gull cried.

  Abruptly, he let her go, forcing her to kick her legs to keep from going under. Swimming for the dock, he cut through the water with powerful strokes. She watched as he hauled himself up the ladder on the side. Watched water rush off his chiseled body and long trunks and run down his legs. Watched as he accepted the phone as sun glistened off the water droplets clinging to his wet body.

  Wow.

  Just…

  Wow.

  She moved her arms through the water, her pace intentionally slow, both to give herself time to recuperate from his hands on her body as well as not to horn in on his conversation. Not that he cared. About her recuperation or privacy. Openly, he watched her while squeegeeing the water from his hair. When she reached the ladder, he bent to pick up her towel and, with barely a glance in her direction, he offered it to her when she stepped on the dock.

  Pressing the terry cloth against her body, she dried quickly, and then just as quickly tied her sarong back into place. Sunglasses once again hiding her face, she wound her hair into a ponytail and squeezed the water out, leaving a puddle that could’ve accommodated a small family of ducks if it hadn’t run through the slats of the dock.

  “Yeah, burgers sound good. Turkey burgers? You shittin’ me?” Evan was saying into the phone. He frowned at her. “You know how to cook a turkey burger?”

  He asked this as if burgers made from turkey required some fancy preparation like frog’s legs or foie gras.

  “Of course,” she replied with a shrug.

  “Charlie’ll take care of that,” he told the caller. Then to her, he said, “Wine or beer?”

  “Um… either?”

  “She likes wine,” he said to the phone. “I like beer.” A pau
se and then, “Yep. No problem.” He ended the call and dropped the phone into the beach bag Lyon had hauled onto one narrow shoulder. “Bud, will you plug that into the charger for me?”

  “Sure,” he said, lugging the bag up the dock toward the stairs that led to the beach.

  “Glo and Ash are coming for dinner.”

  “And I’m invited?” she asked, noting he hadn’t asked.

  “Ace. Turkey burgers.”

  Like that was an answer.

  He watched her for a beat, looking unhappy, and she wasn’t sure if he was unhappy because of her not-so-graceful segue into talking about Rae in the lake, or if he was unhappy because she seemed to be pushing him on this whole dinner-with-Glo-and-Asher thing.

  She decided to be agreeable. “Turkey burgers.”

  With a curt nod, he grabbed his towel from the railing, wrapped it around his waist, and headed up the dock. When he reached Lyon, he took the bag from his son’s shoulder and transferred it to his own.

  “What time?” she called after him.

  “Five.”

  That one word, and a stellar view of his backside, was all the answer she got.

  She spent the rest of the afternoon wondering if she shouldn’t show up after all, because she didn’t want to have another conversation that might involve him asking her what her point was about bringing up Rae. But then she’d sort of promised to cook the turkey burgers, so she decided she’d better show.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The mood,” as Charlie had come to think of it, remained when she arrived at Evan’s place at four instead of five. She wasn’t sure when Gloria and Asher were coming by, nor was she sure if she was supposed to help with dinner prep to be served at five, or if everyone would arrive at five and make dinner together.

  Then again, maybe she was being slightly obsessive. Since their odd parting in the water, she’d been slightly obsessive about a lot of things, including the fact that she wasn’t ready to discuss what had happened.

  What hadn’t happened…

  After dissecting it every which way, there were only tiny, barely discernible pieces left before she’d had to toss the whole mess aside, get dressed in her favorite short, pink-with-white-flowers sundress, and walk to Evan’s house from her own.