Bringing Home the Bad Boy

by Jessica Lemmon

  “How’s your hot neighbor doing?” Sofie asked as they turned the corner to walk down to the furniture store, Cozy Home. Without her previous employee discount, Charlie couldn’t afford anything in the place, but it was fun to look.

  “He’s…”

  Hot. Kisses like a dream. Making me have lusty, sinful thoughts I should run to church to pray about.

  “… Fine.”

  “I saw Asher Knight the other day at Salty Dog. That man is the embodiment of fine.”

  “I hung out with him last night. He’s a handful.”

  “Look at you, surrounded by all the hot guys in the Cove. And here I keep going on dates and having nothing to show for them.”

  Outside Cozy Home, they admired a white leather sofa set covered in brightly colored retro-print pillows.

  Charlie took a breath and blew out the words that’d been gnawing at her insides since this morning. “Evan kissed me last night and I feel so guilty, I can hardly breathe.”

  Since she didn’t go to church, Sofie was going to have to be her confessional.

  Sofie’s hand went to Charlie’s back. “Honey, why? Why guilty?”

  “Because of Rae.” Her reflection in the store’s glass showed how guilty she felt. It was written in every distraught line on her face.

  Sofie rubbed Charlie’s back and watched her in the window. “He kissed you, or you kissed him?”

  “He kissed me.”

  “And you think that’s wrong?”

  She didn’t know what she thought. “I don’t know. I think if Rae were here, I—”

  “You never would have kissed your best friend’s husband if she were here. And I hope Evan never would have kissed you.”

  She turned to face Sofie. “He wouldn’t have. He loved Rae. Loved her with every bone in his body.”

  Sofie flipped her long brown hair off one shoulder. “Listen, from what you’ve told me about Russell, I get that you aren’t used to being pursued. Sounds like Evan is pursuing you.”

  “Russell pursued me,” she argued, but it was a weak argument. “He picked me up at a wedding.”

  “After he caught you…” Her eyebrows lifted as if she was waiting for Charlie to finish the sentence. When she didn’t, Sofie added quietly, “The pursuit stops when they get what they want.” Her mouth twisted. “Believe me. It does.” Then she snapped out of whatever memory she was having. “Evan pursuing you probably feels very foreign. New. And that’s okay.”

  “But if we start this… If it doesn’t work out… If I lose him completely…”

  Charlie couldn’t think it. The thought of losing someone else she loved nearly paralyzed her.

  She wasn’t close to her family. Her sister lived far away and preferred the distance. Her mother died of cancer when Charlie was in high school, and her father… Her father had made it clear to his girls they were on their own after Mom died. Last she’d heard, he was living in Maine with a woman named Becky.

  Charlie, Russell, Evan, and Rae had been close. As close as she’d been with anyone. Then Rae died, Russell left her, and she found herself keeping people at arm’s length.

  Including Sofie, she realized now. Her best friend in the Cove, and Charlie had just learned at wine night they had an acquaintance in common. Charlie had shared the basics about her life, but had she really let Sofie in? No. Since Rae, since Russell, she hadn’t let anyone else in.

  Charlie used to travel to Rae’s parents with her. They’d visit, have dinner, catch up. Patricia and Cliff had been like a second set of parents—or a first set when hers were no longer around. But after Rae was gone, Charlie let that tie break, too.

  So far, Charlie had lost her father, her sister, Rae, Pat and Cliff…

  What she had in the present was Evan. Lyon. Sofie and Faith. She’d do well not to mess up those hard-won relationships.

  Hating how she’d kept Sofie in the dark, she confessed, “If Evan and I tried and didn’t work out, I could lose him and Lyon for good.” Losing Evan and Lyon was not an option, she decided firmly.

  Gently, Sofie smiled. “But what if you did work out?”

  She returned her friend’s smile, but it was a weak one. “That might be worse. Because then I’d have to face his family. Face Rae’s family.” And explain to them how she’d had the audacity to steal away her best friend’s family and claim it for herself.

  It was selfish and wrong on so many levels.

  “A day at a time, Charlie. You don’t know what the future will bring.”

  Charlie’s phone sounded three quick beeps. “That’s my alarm. I have to get back.” She kissed Sofie on the cheek, thanked her again for the shoes, and insisted on walking back to her house by herself. Charlie wanted some time alone to solidify the decision she’d made outside of the furniture store.

  She couldn’t afford to be with Evan Downey.

  Not unless she wanted to lose it all.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Mrs. Anderson puckered her lips, crossed her arms, and clamped her false teeth together. Evan and Asher exchanged glances, and Evan noticed Gloria had actually hidden behind them both.

  Despite the clear and undeniable fact that Asher and Evan were adults, Evergreen Cove’s oldest, and only, librarian scolded them like children.

  “I know you two have grown into nice young men now,” she said, sending a scathing gaze over first Evan’s tattooed arms, then Asher’s, “but I can’t have the Penis Bandits at my library. Charity or no.”

  Gloria stifled a snort, likely because hearing Mrs. Anderson say the word “penis” was the funniest thing any of them had heard in a while.

  Ash coughed into his hand to cover a laugh.

  Evan, now a parent, saw her point. He wouldn’t want his kid to deface public property, either. “You’re right, Mrs. Anderson, it was wrong of us to redecorate your library.”

  Another cough from Asher had Evan elbowing him.

  “Hmm.” Mrs. Anderson considered them both, then poked her head around Ash. “Ms. Shields?” They gave her up, stepping aside. Glo had one arm looped around her stomach and the other over her mouth, telltale tears of laughter shining in her eyes. “You think this is funny, Ms. Shields?”

  She straightened and shook her head, reining it in. “I don’t, ma’am. I just… I really want these boys to atone for what they did to your lovely building all those years ago.”

  Evan whipped around and pegged her with a warning look. Oh, hell no.

  “That’s why Asher has agreed to do an acoustic ballad at the festival. Evan will create a piece of artwork of your choosing to donate to the library, in addition to the donated books, the signing, and the autographed painting of Mad Cow.”

  “Sarge.” This from Asher, whose eyebrows lowered into the same Oh, hell no expression on Evan’s face.

  “No.” She lifted a palm and physically moved to stand next to Mrs. Anderson. A united front. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. You owe this town a debt, and now that you’ve gone and made something of yourselves”—her mouth twitched with buried laughter and Evan felt his eyelids narrow—“you need to make up for what you did.”

  “Ms. Shields is right. I’ll agree to those terms. That and a public apology for putting penises on my building,” Mrs. Anderson spat.

  Glo lifted a hand and put it on the librarian’s shoulder. “But maybe not that because there will be children present at the Starving Artists Festival. We wouldn’t give them any ideas, you know.”

  Mrs. Anderson’s jaw slackened at the thought. Then she uncrossed her arms and said, “I suppose you’re right. But I want a written apology.” She pointed one bony finger at Evan and then turned the digit on Asher. “From each of you.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ash said. “But the ballad…”

  “You’ll do it,” Mrs. Anderson stated. “I love that song. Only one you sing where I can make out the words because you’re not screaming them.”

  With that, Mrs. Anderson started talking specifics—table setup and whatnot
now that she’d allowed Evan and Asher back into the Starving Artists Festival. They tagged back several yards, letting Glo work her magic on the older woman.

  “Glo sold us out,” Evan muttered.

  “Mrs. Anderson loves my song.” Ash pulled a cigarette out of his pack, but the moment he lifted it to his mouth, the librarian turned around. He palmed it and tucked it to his side. Once her attention returned to Gloria, he tucked the cigarette behind his ear. “Damn. Sharp old lady.”

  “At least you don’t have to write her a new song.” But Evan was asked to paint something at her behest. And, wild guess, she wanted something other than broody, moody nightmares on canvas.

  “You and Charlie hang out last night?” Asher asked.

  “She left shortly after Glo left with you.”

  Ash made a face.

  “What? What’s that for?”

  “I wasn’t going to tell you, but I feel like I should. I tried to kiss her, man.”

  “Charlie?” Evan took a step closer to the friend he was now going to beat the hell out of in Library Park.

  “Gloria!”

  “I’m busy, Ash! Gimme a second,” Glo responded, thinking he’d summoned her.

  He waved. “My fault.”

  When her attention was with Mrs. Anderson again, he and Evan trekked over to a fountain in the middle of the park.

  “And?” A leftover surge of jealousy over thinking Ash meant Charlie at first moved through his limbs.

  “And she let me.”

  “Because she likes you, dumbass.”

  Ash palmed the back of his neck and rubbed, looking nauseous. “Gloria, she’s… smart. Sexy.”

  “Smart and sexy new territory for you?” Evan knew better. Ash could fill a tour bus with chicks meeting those qualifications.

  “I sleep with women who dress sexy and look sexy. Gloria… she pulls you in with all that sass, then hits you with the smarts. And, Ev, man, she’s smart.”

  Evan laughed. “Intimidated, old boy?”

  Ash didn’t laugh; he only looked more worried. “Yeah. Kinda.”

  Evan knew what he meant. Because of her looks, Gloria was easy to marginalize at first glance. Low-cut shirts and high-cut skirts advertising her tits and ass, added to makeup and fuck-me heels broadcasting her femininity in high-def. But her outer appearance wasn’t all she was. Gloria was smart, didn’t put up with bullshit, and could flay a man in two with one sharp turn of a phrase.

  Asher, on the other hand, had gotten through life on charm and jokes and a career that allowed him to behave like a big kid. This time, Evan’s surge of jealousy was paired with admiration.

  “What, you’re not intimidated by Charlie?” Ash asked.

  “No.” Intimidated wasn’t the word. Frustrated. Now there was a word.

  “No, I guess you’re not.”

  “Meaning?”

  Asher dug in his pocket and pulled out a handful of change, a condom, and a guitar pick. He put the pick and the condom back into his pocket. Evan took a few coins and they each plunked one in the fountain wordlessly before Ash finally answered him.

  “You and Charlie are friends. I’ve never been friends with a woman.”

  They were friends. But after last night, Evan wanted more. “I kissed her.”

  Ash tossed a nickel into the fountain with a bloop. “Hell yes, bro.” He raised his hand to high-five. Evan glared until he lowered his palm. “You’re such a drag.”

  “She said ‘sorry, Rae’ after. Apologized to my late wife the moment my lips left hers. The fuck is that about?” He asked this question to himself, but Ash answered anyway.

  “Guilt.”

  He didn’t like that.

  “Charlie and Rae grew up together,” Ash said. “They were best friends for ten years before Rae passed. And now, she’s into you, and you have Rae’s kid, and in her mind, you’re Rae’s. She’s made it her life’s habit not to look at you any other way than as ‘Rae’s husband.’ ”

  His frown deepened. He could feel it. He looked at the four coins in his palm. If what Ash said was true, and it sure sounded logical, then Charlie was really, really messed up. Evan had vowed to be with Rae until death, through sickness and health. He had loved her, still loved her, without fail until she took her last breath on that carpeted hallway on East Level Road.

  When he had to care for his three-year-old, motherless son on his own, he had done that as well. It wasn’t easy telling a young kid his mother had gone to heaven, explaining why they couldn’t see her in this world ever again, but Evan had done that, too. It hadn’t been easy working and finding care for his son while running his tattoo shop—a vocation that drew judgment from the other school moms on PTA night—but he’d done it. And it sure as hell hadn’t been easy dating again when he was ready, knowing how some people looked at him—namely Rae’s friends, who one-by-one wandered away—like he should be ashamed for going out on Rae who’d been gone nearly two years.

  And now Charlie? Who he thought understood him and Lyon and what they’d endured. But, no, she was judging him in much the same way as Rae’s “friends.” Keeping vigil for Rae instead of exploring what he knew she felt for him. Denying herself, denying him what they could have if she responded to that kiss instead of painting a red A on her chest and running home in shame.

  He tossed the coins into the fountain in a series of plops and splashes, then turned for his SUV parked on the side of the road.

  “Where’re you going?” Asher called.

  “Charlie’s. Let Gloria know I’ll call her later.”

  * * *

  Charlie and Lyon walked across the beach, Lyon toting his iPad and the photos she’d printed that he’d taken today. Turned out he was a natural—yes, he was seven, but he’d taken some decent shots by any standard. And seeing the world through his eyes fascinated her; a totally fresh perspective on the surroundings she looked at every day.

  He was proud of his photographs, and she loved sharing that pride with him. He’d taken some really honest shots and she couldn’t help being excited for Evan to see them—proof he’d passed down some of his artistic talent after all.

  At the back door, Lyon let himself in and dumped his stuff on the kitchen counter. She was certain Evan wouldn’t let this fly, but since he wasn’t in the kitchen, she did what he’d warned her not to and took care of it. Yes, Lyon should put his things away, but he was also on summer break and she knew one only got so many summer breaks before growing up and having to work year-round.

  After hanging his bag on a hook by the door and draping Lyon’s damp trunks and towel over the railing on the deck, she heard the side door open. Evan strode out, cell phone to his ear, looking smoking hot in very thin, worn jeans and a navy tee. He finished his call with “sounds good” and pocketed the cell, stuffing both hands in his pockets. She took an unashamedly long gander at his biceps.

  Yummy.

  His eyebrows were down as he squinted into the distance.

  “Everything okay?” she asked, sensing it wasn’t. Or he could be in need of a pair of sunglasses. It was hard to tell with him sometimes.

  “That was Patricia.”

  Rae’s mom.

  “How is she?”

  “Good. She and Cliff want Lyon to visit. I invited them to the Starving Artists Festival. They’re going to come and take him home with them after.”

  “Oh, that’s great. I haven’t seen them in ages.” Too long. Guilt speared her. She saw the occasional post on Facebook, but other than a “like” or a brief comment, hadn’t truly connected with them in a while.

  “She asked about you,” he said, his face softening.

  She knotted her fingers together. “That makes me feel bad.”

  Untangling her fingers, he took her hand in his and stepped closer. “I’m getting that about you, Ace.”

  He kissed her hand and stroked her thumb with his. She watched with a sort of out-of-body amazement. Except when his lips touched her hand and her thighs tingled. Th
at was very in body.

  And so was when he tilted his head toward hers. But when she thought she’d get a kiss, or maybe hoped was the right word, he stopped short of her lips and said, “I’m pissed at you.”

  The words were an electric shock, shooting through her fingers and her toes. She felt the sting in her face like her cheeks were reddening… or like she was having a stroke.

  “Sorry?”

  He kept hold of her hand. “I thought we were friends.”

  “We… we are.” Her heart pounded harder. What had she done wrong? Was it the photos? Did he see Lyon’s work and not like it? Did he not like that she’d let him have the camera—or maybe Evan would have liked to teach him instead?

  “You don’t get to judge me, Charlie, because of some messed-up ideas you have knocking around in that head of yours.”

  Heart pounding faster, she could do nothing but blink at him for a few silent seconds.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” The words came out in a whisper because she could not find the voice to give to them. When did she ever judge anyone? And why would he think he wasn’t her friend?

  “Dad, I’m hungry.” Lyon stepped outside, shutting the door with a bang!

  She tried to pull her arm away, equally relieved to get space from Evan as she was disappointed for the interruption.

  Undeterred, and confusing her further, he not only kept hold of her hand but tugged her to his side and wrapped an arm around her waist. “You think we should ask Charlie to lunch?”

  He leaned a hip against the railing, his fingers rubbing the material on her dress like he hadn’t accused her of not being his friend or being judgmental five seconds ago. And that question…

  You think we should ask Charlie to lunch?

  Wasn’t that like a king casually asking if he should pardon a criminal or hang him? And here she waited, on tenterhooks, for the younger Downey to accuse her.

  Lyon took in the two of them, her standing in his father’s arms, and quirked his mouth. “You look like Aunt Sadie and Uncle Aiden.”