by Lauren Layne
Luc reached for the bill Helen had dropped off, but as usual, Tony was too fast. “Your mother and I have this.”
Luc lifted an eyebrow. “But you’re retired.”
“And I’m your father,” Tony said in his usual no-room-for-argument tone.
Luc and Vincent exchanged a look across the table. Neither of them particularly liked their parents paying for their four grown siblings, but pride was an important element in the Morettis. And nobody had more of it than the patriarch.
“They’re not going to put makeup on you, are they?” Anthony mused.
“What?” Luc asked.
“For this story. Do you have to get all dolled up?”
Luc rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, annoyed that the conversation kept coming back to the damned CBC thing. “No. No makeup. It’s just a reporter following me around for a few weeks…”
“Which reporter?” Elena asked.
Just as Tony broke in, “What do you mean a few weeks?”
“Oh my God,” Luc muttered, taking a drink of his coffee. He looked across the table at his best shot at escape: his mother.
But Maria Moretti looked every bit as dismayed as his father, which was something Luc didn’t fully understand. He knew why he was annoyed about the story, but he didn’t get why his parents were all worked up about it. It didn’t even have anything to do with them.
“Her name is Ava Sims,” Luc said, glancing at his sister as he answered her question.
Elena nodded. “I think I know her. Brunette? Pretty?”
“A pretty brunette on TV?” Vin said. “I’m sure there’s only one of those.”
Elena made a face. “Seriously, I think I just saw one of her stories last week. She did some exposé on this supposed charity that was really a front for drug money, or something like that. Seriously, it was a big deal…she figured it out all on her own, and—”
“Because that’s exactly what the city needs,” Anthony broke in. “Amateurs that don’t have a clue about law enforcement thinking they know the best way to keep order.”
“Oh, come off it,” Elena said in exasperation.
Luc was sitting between the two of them and held up a palm between their two angry faces, hoping to stifle the argument before it heated. Elena was not only the lone sister with four brothers, she was also the lone non-cop of the Moretti siblings.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. Elena was an attorney…a defense attorney.
Her commitment to “the wrong side of the law,” as Anthony liked to call it, was a frequent point of contention. And even though Luc was generally on Anthony’s side, today he wasn’t in the mood.
“Can we not do this?” he asked tiredly.
Both Anthony and Elena glanced at him, and then he saw them glimpse at each other, a surprised look on their faces. He knew why. His voice had been irritated, and Luc’s voice was rarely anything other than easygoing.
He was the charming brother. The likable one.
But he didn’t feel charming today. Hadn’t felt charming in a long time.
And lately…lately he’d been tired of pretending.
“I still think you should say no to the story,” Tony broke in.
Luc’s head dropped forward at his father’s stubbornness. “I can’t, Dad. I don’t like it any more than you do, but Captain Brinker made it clear that it wasn’t up for discussion. After what happened with that shooting last month, they’re desperate to get back in the public’s good graces.”
His father’s jaw moved. “You’re sure that’s what this is about? Making amends for that trigger-happy cop who shot the homeless man?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” Luc said, taking a sip of coffee as he tossed his napkin onto his plate. “Does it matter?”
His father nodded, looking thoughtful. And worried. Luc’s mother set a hand on his father’s arm, and Tony glanced at her. Luc’s eyes narrowed as he watched something cross between them. A silent communication that he couldn’t translate.
A temper that he very rarely felt started to creep up. “Look, I’ll keep you all out of it, okay? Can we just…drop it?”
“Sure, bambino,” Elena said, her voice easy as she ran a playful hand through his hair.
Vincent reached across the table with a pen and a paper napkin. “Another autograph. For my collection?”
Luc laughed and shoved his brother’s hand aside. “Fu—screw you,” he corrected, after a quick glance at his mother. “Can we go? My shift starts in an hour and I need to change into uniform.”
Outside the restaurant, the family did the usual hugs and kisses exchange as his mother took an inventory of who, if any of them, would be coming to family dinner that evening. Church and Sunday breakfast were mandatory. Sunday dinner had become an “all is welcome, none are required” affair in recent years in deference to the unpredictable schedule of cops, and Elena’s tendency to spend Sunday nights prepping for her Monday cases.
“Not me tonight, Ma,” Luc said, wrapping his mother in a hug and kissing her cheek. “I’m working a double.”
His mother pressed her palms to his cheeks and studied his face. “You’ll be careful, won’t you, Luca?”
He rolled his eyes. It was a common refrain in a family of cops. “Yes, ma’am. I always am.”
Not that it always matters. Sometimes you could be as careful as can be, and you still…
“I mean be careful with this Sims woman,” Maria said softly.
Luc frowned. “Ma. She’s a little annoying, but she’s not exactly a threat.”
His mother opened her mouth, looking like she wanted to say more, but then she caught Tony’s eye and fell silent.
Luc shifted his attention to his father, who was watching him with the same worried expression his mother had used.
Luc had the strangest sense that he was missing something. Missing something crucial.
But he didn’t have a clue what it was.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ava, your mom’s calling.”
Ava groaned as she stepped into her yoga pants and hopped repeatedly to wiggle them up over her hips. “Ignore it!” she called from the bedroom.
Scooping her hair into a messy bun, she headed out into her tiny living room just in time to watch her best friend hit the Decline button on Ava’s phone.
Beth picked up her glass of wine and flopped back on Ava’s couch, her bright orange hair bouncing around her shoulders. “Is it wrong, how much I enjoyed doing that?”
“Nah,” Ava said, scooping her own wineglass off the coffee table and settling into the chair across from her friend, tucking her legs up beneath her. “It’s acceptable for you to not like her. She’s not your mother.”
“Thank God for that,” Beth muttered.
Ava grinned at her friend’s honesty. Beth’s no-BS policy was one of the many reasons the two women had been nearly inseparable since their first meeting.
Ava had met Beth Salvers, a Brooklyn native, her first months in the city.
It had been Ava’s twenty-third birthday, and she hadn’t known a soul, but that didn’t stop her from putting on a too-short sequin dress and hitting up one of the fancy bars a few blocks from her apartment.
She’d meant to treat herself to a drink or two before heading home for a thrilling night of Friends reruns.
The bartender had carded her, then insisted that the first drink was on him. The tiny blue-eyed redhead sitting next to Ava at the bar had insisted that the second drink was on her. Beth had just been stood up on a blind date and was looking for a man-bashing partner.
Ava didn’t have a man to bash…but she was in desperate need of a friend. The rest was history.
But the only man-bashing Beth was doing these days was when her fiancé didn’t sound properly enthused about thrilling topics like flower arrangements and venue and the weight of card stock for their save-the-date cards.
In a few months, Beth was marrying Christian Channing, and while Ava was wildly happy for her
friend, she couldn’t help feeling a little…ditched.
Their single-girl anthem had been her and Beth’s jam for several years of friendship. All of that had changed when Beth met Christian at a charity event last year. And although the two women were closer than ever, Ava was also aware that she sometimes held back from Beth when it came to talking about men. Beth wasn’t one of those annoying friends that expected everyone to be happily coupled up because she was, but talking about a bad date wasn’t the same when you knew the other person had been cuddling the love of her life while you’d been stuck with a whopper of a dinner bill because the guy’d “forgotten” his wallet.
Still, there were some things Ava and Beth still had in common…
Griping over Ava’s mother was one of them.
Ava didn’t dislike her mom. Of course she didn’t. She loved her. But Viv Sims could be…difficult. Something Beth had gotten a close-up look at whenever Ava’s mom came to visit the city. Beth was a kindergarten teacher, which most people melted over, but Vivian Sims managed to find about a dozen different ways to belittle Beth’s chosen profession.
There’s not much challenge in that then, is there, dear?
Well I can see why you don’t bother much with your clothes. They must get positively ruined with grubby handprints.
It’s just as well. Having a face for the camera is as much a curse as it is a blessing, right, Ava?
Ava really couldn’t blame her best friend for disliking her mother. Still, while Beth had no reason to feel guilty about screening Viv’s calls, Ava did feel guilty. She tried to call her parents every Sunday, but she’d been avoiding them for two weeks now.
Ever since she found out about the America’s Hero segment.
Her parents would be thrilled, which would have most daughters diving for the phone.
But her parents’ excitement over the story was precisely the reason Ava didn’t want to tell them. Strange as it sounded, some gut-level part of Ava rebelled at the idea of doing what her parents expected of her. Which made no sense. Their goals had always been Ava’s goals. Sure, they were the ones who had nudged her toward the path of anchorwoman, but Ava had been the one to pursue it.
It was just…
She wasn’t ready to tell them. Wasn’t ready to listen to all of the “this is your big break!” enthusiasm until she was sure how she felt about it.
“Uh oh,” Beth said, leaning forward to grab a handful of potato chips from the bag Ava’d set on the able. “You’re biting your nail.”
Ava dropped her hand to her lap. “Sorry.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “Don’t be sorry. Calls from my mom set me on edge sometimes too, and mine isn’t, um…”
“A nightmare?” Ava said with a knowing smile.
“Yeah. That. But seriously, do you want to call your mom back? Reservations aren’t until eight, so we have time.”
“Definitely not,” Ava said, taking a sip of her wine. “I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“To tell her about Officer McHotty?”
Ava lifted her eyebrows. “Is that what we’re calling him now?”
“Oh, come on,” Beth said, putting a hand over her chest and sighing dramatically. “I’ve seen the videos. And did you see that story in the Times? The one where they caught a picture of him laughing with his brothers? That whole family can frisk me any old time.”
Ava threw a chip at her. “Pull yourself together.”
“But he’s hot, right? In person?”
Ava pursed her lips and glanced at her wine. “He’s good-looking.”
Beth snorted. “From anyone else, that would be an epic understatement. But coming from you, it’s…something.”
“What do you mean, coming from me?”
“I mean,” Beth said around a chip, “that you’re overdue. Past ripe.”
Ava groaned. “That is terrible.”
“It’s true! I mean this with absolutely unabashed love, but I’ve started to wonder if your lady parts weren’t expiring from lack of use.”
“My lady parts are just fine, thank you very much.”
“So you admit it. Officer Moretti is hot.”
Ava laughed at her friend’s relentlessness. “Yes, okay, fine, I admit it. He’s hot.”
Beth’s eyes narrowed and she leaned forward. “You gave in way too easily. What’s the catch. Is he secretly a prick? Gay? Super short?”
“No, no, and no. He…” Ava broke off as she considered. “He seems like a nice guy.”
Beth flopped back with a groan. “Oh no.”
“What?”
“You’re writing him off before you’ve even started the story.”
“Okay, let’s hold it right there. I’m glad you realize that he is in fact a story, not a potential suitor.”
“Suitor? Easy there, your Oklahoma’s coming out.”
“You know what I mean. Quit pretending that Luc is a romantic prospect.”
“Luc, huh?” Beth’s eyebrows wiggled.
Whoops.
Ava leaned forward and grabbed the wine bottle, topping her glass off. “I’m just saying…your upcoming trot down the aisle’s got you all match-makery, and I don’t want to have to spend the next two months having to explain that Officer Moretti is a part of my professional life, not my personal one.”
Even if he is the best-looking guy I’ve seen in a long time.
“Good,” Beth said, holding out her hands and wiggling her fingers for the wine bottle.
Ava handed it over. “Good?”
That was so not the response she’d been expecting. Ava hadn’t been joking when she’d said that Beth’s upcoming marriage had gotten her in a matchmaking mind-set. They couldn’t so much as go out for happy hour without Beth trying to set Ava up with the bus boy.
“Yup! Now that I know that dark-haired, blue-eyed cops with broad shoulders and a rugged jaw line aren’t your type, you have no reason to say no when I invite you out to dinner with me and Christian next weekend…and one of Christian’s co-workers, who’s blond, brown-eyed, and lanky.”
Ava groaned as she realized she’d walked right into Beth’s trap.
“Please? Gabe is really sweet. One of the good ones, I swear, and if it doesn’t work out, I won’t push, and you never have to see him again—”
Ava took a swallow of wine. A big one. “No.”
Beth stopped mid-rant, her blue eyes blinking in confusion. “No? That’s it?”
“I’m saying no, but saying it kindly. And not because I don’t trust you, but because I’m just not in a place to fall in love right now. Work is crazy.”
And actually, falling in love seems to be one thing I don’t seem capable of. Ever.
Beth sulked. “How about after you finish this big story?”
Ava sighed. Her best friend was like a dog with a bone. “Maybe. Maybe then.”
Beth grinned happily. “Yay!”
“Yeah,” Ava mumbled. “Yay.”
She didn’t have the heart to tell her friend, but Ava would bet serious money on the fact that she wouldn’t be falling for any of these guys that Beth seemed determined to set her up with. Not because they wouldn’t be perfectly nice.
In fact, sometimes nice was the problem. The nice ones never said it out loud on a first date, but they were the ones who were angling toward marriage and babies and things that Ava just wasn’t at all sure she was ready for. Or would ever be ready for.
Ava knew there was supposed to be some deep, dark secret…some festering reason why she didn’t want to get married, didn’t want to commit…but the truth was, it just didn’t appeal. It had never appealed. Maybe it was her parents’ stable, but symbiotic, relationship that had turned her off, or just one too many boring boyfriends over the years, but lately Ava had been finding the prospect of marriage more and more unappealing.
And the more she thought she was supposed to want it, the less she did.
She leaned forward and grabbed a handful of chips. “Beth, do you think I’m c
ompletely screwed up?”
“Well, if you are, nobody can blame you,” Beth said without hesitation. “Your family’s a piece of work.”
“So true,” Ava agreed as she munched on the chips.
“But,” Beth said, pointing a finger. “You are fabulous. You have to forget the crazy fam. Do what you want to do.”
Ava ran a finger around the rim of her glass. “Yeah, that’s kind of the problem.”
“Meaning?”
Meaning, what if I don’t know what I want to do?
But she wasn’t ready to say it. Not out loud. Not even to Beth.
So instead she changed the subject to the one and only thing that could deter Beth from her fix-Ava campaign…“Hey, what did you find out about that band Christian liked for the reception? Are they still available?”
As expected, Beth was only too happy to have the chance to talk wedding, and for the next hour, Ava was able to let herself forget, just for a little while, that despite her life looking pretty perfect on paper, she felt utterly and totally lost.
CHAPTER SIX
Luc crossed his arms over his chest and glared.
Ava Sims glared right back.
“No cameras,” Luc said. “That’s nonnegotiable.”
She narrowed her eyes as though to say everything’s negotiable.
And for a woman who looked like Ava, everything probably was.
She was wearing a pantsuit today. It was light gray and should have been dull as hell, but the way it hugged her slim body was anything but subdued. And the strawberry-red of her high heels was distracting as all get-out.
“Perhaps we should get your supervisor.” Her snooty tone made it clear that she expected to out-gun him, but this was one area where Luc knew that Captain Brinker, power-tripping as he was, would have his back.
“By all means,” Luc replied with an easy smile and a sweeping of his arm toward Brinker’s office. “May I show you the way?”
Ava moved forward, as did her sulky-looking cameraman, and Luc held up a hand to stop the lanky blond from getting in the front doors.
“Not you. Her.”
Ava rolled her eyes. “Wait here, Mihail. I’m sure Captain Brinker will clear this up.”
