A Modern Love Story

by Jolyn Palliata

  “The Wine Cellar? How did you manage this?”

  “The owner is a steady customer at Hooligan’s.”

  “Really?” She pulled her wrap tight around her shoulders as they walked across the parking lot.

  Luc slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close, banking on body heat to help warm her up. “Hooligan’s is a class act you know. Of course he’s been there.”

  She giggled, as he knew she would. “How foolish of me to think otherwise.”

  After the maître d’ took Robbie’s wrap, she trailed her fingers down the lapel of Luc’s suit jacket. “Well, aren’t you mister tall-dark-and-handsome personified. I couldn’t have asked for a better looking date.”

  “Neither could I.” He felt like a damn idiot saying it, afraid it would sound like a mandatory return compliment. She was simply beautiful and he should have fucking thought to tell her that the moment he saw her. Dammit. If he wanted to use the night to show her what she meant to him, he’d better think faster on his feet than that.

  The maître d’ showed them to their table, and they settled into small talk as they perused their menus and chose their wine. It wasn’t until they were waiting for their food that the conversation turned more into the direction Luc had hoped it would—the more getting-to-know-you personal kind.

  “I love these,” Robbie commented, fingering the petals of the flowers set in the middle of the table.

  Yes. Women liked flowers. Unfortunately, he was as uneducated about flowers as he was about relationships in general. “What kind are they?”

  “This particular one…I’m not sure. I just know I love it.” She lifted her eyes and smiled. “I like wild flower arrangements with bold colors.”

  “I thought chicks liked roses.”

  “Some chicks might. I don’t.”

  He noted his mistake—hard not to when it was clearly pointed out and highlighted with a quick glare. He hoped straight forward worked as well as it had before. “I don’t think of you as a chick, Robbie.”

  “You better not.” Her lips twitched, but she purposefully turned her head away as she took a sip of her wine.

  “Or what? You’ll kick me in the tutu?”

  Robbie snorted and nearly spit out her drink.

  Luc held back his own laugh. “Well, that was attractive.”

  She smacked him in the arm as she dabbed at her mouth with a crimson linen napkin. “Oh, my God. I haven’t heard that in forever.”

  “Shit, babe. You’re the only person I’ve ever heard say that.”

  “Not in years, I haven’t.”

  “You never did tell me what it meant.”

  She shot a glance at him and blushed. “No, you’re right. I never did.”

  “Oh, you’ve got to tell me now.” He took her hand, rubbed his lips against her knuckles. “Please?”

  She giggled, her cheeks becoming more flushed. “It stems back to ballet.”

  “I figured as much. Go on.”

  “Back in the day, commoners had to sit right up by the stage whereas the wealthier people had the better view in the middle and back of the theatre.”

  “Okay.”

  “Well,”—she took another sip of wine—”the commoners had a…unique view of what was under the ballerina’s skirt. Or lack thereof, as the case may be. They labeled this…area as her tutu.”

  He chuckled, leaned forward to brush his fingers across her cheek. “So tutu does mean crotch.”

  “Ah…yeah. Eventually they figured out a way to fix the costume problem, but the label tutu stuck.”

  “And aren’t you just the clever one for knowing these trivial facts. I love that about you.”

  She smiled, looked down. “Thank my father for that one.”

  “I certainly would if I could.” He squeezed her hand. “We haven’t talked about that in awhile.”

  “About what?”

  “Your family. You quit bringing it up. Why?”

  She shrugged. “What’s the point?”

  “What do you mean? You always had a plan to find them someday.”

  “I might. Someday. When I can afford a private investigator. I actually looked into it a few years ago.”

  “And?”

  “They are ungodly expensive. Or at least the good ones are.”

  He pulled his shoulders back, felt an edge of temper seeping into his tone. “Why didn’t you ask me? I’ll help you pay for one.”

  She laid a hand on his arm. “It’s no big deal, Luc. I’ll do it eventually. You should be focusing on your business, making it the best you can.”

  “Robbie—”

  “Look. I know you’re not made of money, and I would never ask you to sacrifice what little you have to try and find someone who might not even exist. If the state couldn’t find them, what makes you think a PI will?”

  “But you’re still going to hire one, despite what you just said?”

  She nodded. “Probably. But that’ll be on me, not you.”

  He could see it was important to her, so he didn’t pursue it. “Just promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When and if you decide to hire a PI, and you need help, you let me know.”

  “Deal. But first, I have to get a decent job before I can even think of indulging in a wild goose chase.” She laughed, though it sounded forced.

  “You will. You have that interview on Monday. You’ll knock ‘em dead.”

  “I don’t know. My professor made it pretty clear that they are looking for someone with experience.”

  “How could you have any damn experience? You just graduated.”

  “Internships.”

  The waiter arrived with their food. Luc waited until they had been served before responding. “What kind of internships?”

  “Museums, archeological digs. Stuff like that.” She cut into her chicken, took a bite.

  Luc gestured with his knife as he spoke. “Why didn’t that professor of yours line up some gigs then?”

  Instead of answering, she took another bite and stared at the flowers.

  “Robbie?”

  She motioned towards her mouth, indicating she couldn’t answer just then. But he wasn’t a fucking idiot. He could tell she was avoiding the question.

  “Robbie.”

  She cringed at his tone. “He did, but I turned them all down.”

  He set his fork down with a clatter. “Why the hell would you do that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t give me that shit.”

  Her shoulders slumped as she poked at her food. “They were all either on the west coast or across seas.”

  He waited for more. When there wasn’t any, he said, “So what?”

  “You were here.”

  His mouth opened, but no words came out. She…what?

  She glanced over, saw his stunned expression. “I’ll find a job eventually. No big deal.”

  “Wait. Back up a damn minute. You didn’t take the internships because you’d have to leave me?”

  “There was nowhere else I wanted to be. I love you.” She smiled then as she leaned over and kissed him. “But you know that.”

  “Yeah,” he said, suddenly very interested in his steak.

  He noticed the questioning stare before she finally gave up and turned her attention to her own plate.

  He wanted to say he loved her, but he knew it would sound false. Was he in love with her? Fuck yeah, he was—achingly so. But Conrad was wrong about how Robbie felt. When she said she loved him, it was an old familiar sentiment to her, and nothing more. To respond with words that had more weight felt like belittling her own, and pushing her where she wouldn’t want to be pushed. There were reasons why no one had ever fallen in love with him, and Robbie would know those reasons better than anyone. To love him was to slit her own throat. So no, he couldn’t tell her how he felt. He had to be fair to her.

  “Luc?”

  He glanced over, braced himself when h
e saw her biting her lip—an old habit she had when she was anxious about something. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Always.”

  “Are you okay…with us?” She motioned between them with her fork.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” He lifted his hands, let them drop. “I’m taking you out to dinner, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah. True. I was just making sure.”

  He could tell she had more on her mind from the way she shifted in her seat and averted her eyes. He put his hand over hers as she reached for her wine. “I don’t deserve you, Robbie.”

  “Luc—”

  “Let me finish.” He raised a brow, daring her to interrupt again. “I don’t deserve you, but I’m far too selfish a man to give you up.” He pulled her hand to his mouth. “You’re mine, now and forever.”

  Her whole damn body seemed to go limp, and her eyes got all dewy and shit. “Oh, Luc.” Her bottom lip actually began to fucking quiver, then she sniffled. Sniffled for God’s sake!

  He let go of her hand, clearing his throat as he eased back. “Or at least until you decide to kick me to the curb.”

  That got a watery laugh from her, and lightened the mood considerably. As she dabbed at her eyes, he gestured to the waiter for the check. “Let’s get you home.”

  The ride home went too fast, racing through the time they had left together. When he walked her to her door, he dug out his own key and opened it for her. Before she could walk in, he grabbed her wrist.

  “Why don’t you stop by the bar tomorrow night?”

  “All right.” She tipped her head to the side. “Don’t you want to come in?”

  “Yes. But I’m gonna take off.” And he leaned down to kiss her goodnight.

  Her arms circled around his neck, but he kept the kiss slow and easy, getting a mere taste of her as he tried to skirt around the sparks of heat. They seemed to find him anyway. He caught himself crushing her against him, fisting his hands against the small of her back. Making a conscious effort, he put his hands on her hips and eased her back.

  “You better get inside.”

  One side of her mouth curved up as she considered him. “Are you romancing me, Luc?”

  He felt his ears get hot and immediately felt defensive. “So what if I am?”

  She cupped his face and locked him in her gaze. “Thank you.”

  He relaxed, and pulled her into a hug. “You’re welcome.”

  Chapter 9

  Robbie didn’t even realize she had butterflies in her stomach until she spotted Luc through the doorway to the back room of the bar. At that moment, the fluttering in her stomach launched up around her heart where it grew to a full blown swarm. She resisted the urge to put her hand to her chest, a dead giveaway for what she was feeling, and instead tried for a casual wave when he spotted her. His smile was warm, and just a little bit shy—God that was cute—as he gestured across the room.

  Glancing behind her, Robbie saw Lizbeth sitting in the corner booth surrounded by papers. She didn’t know how she did it, but she managed to suppress a laugh at Lizbeth’s exasperation as she slid into the booth.

  “Did the guys mess up the books again?”

  “I’ve told them a hundred times, not to touch the books. But do they listen? Noooo. Just trying to help, gorgeous,” Lizbeth said, mimicking Conrad’s voice. “I owe you one, my dearest love. I’ll make it up to you, my gorgeous girl. I ought to kick both their asses.”

  Robbie snickered. “How long have you been at it this time?”

  Lizbeth checked her watch and her shoulders slumped. “Jesus. The better part of two hours. Just what I wanted to do on my Sunday night off.”

  “Do you need some help?”

  “Naw. I’m about done now.” She scribbled down a few more notes, and then stacked the papers neatly in front of her as she turned her full attention on Robbie. “So.”

  “So. So…what?”

  “You had your big date last night, right? Spill.”

  “It was good.”

  Lizbeth’s eyes narrowed. “Good. That’s all you’re giving me is good. Come on! I want the juicy stuff. Or at least more details than good.”

  Robbie glanced at Luc to make sure he wasn’t coming over yet, then hunched toward Lizbeth. “Okay. So you know how I’ve never seen Luc with his past girlfriends?”

  “Yeah, as far as I know, you’ve never met one.”

  “Right. He always refused to introduce me—even told me once that when the day came to where one actually mattered, then I’d meet her.”

  “That day never came though.”

  “True, but even still, through Conrad’s Exploits of Luc stories, I think we both got a good sense for how Luc is in a relationship, right?”

  “Oh, hell yeah.” Lizbeth slapped her palm on the table. “Love ‘em and leave ‘em.”

  “I have to admit, I was braced for that in the beginning. I seriously didn’t know how to act around him at first—still kinda don’t. I feel all weird trying to feel him out as a boyfriend, but I think after last night I’m getting a handle on him now.”

  “Sounds vaguely dirty. Care to expand on that?” Lizbeth smiled as she propped her elbow on the table, cupping her chin in her palm.

  “Well, last night before dinner, things got a little heated, but he held back. Now, we know Luc, and if he wants a woman, he’s not shy about it. But he didn’t want me.”

  Lizbeth’s eyes flashed as she dropped her arm. “Why the hell not? What’s his damn problem?” She reached across the table. “Do you want me to kick his ass? ‘Cause I will.”

  Robbie giggled. “No, see…I matter to him. He didn’t want to get down and dirty, he wanted to romance me. Lizbeth, he’s in love with me.”

  “Umm, duh.” She sat back with a smirk. “And here I thought you were the smart one between us.”

  “No, you don’t get it. I already knew he was in love with me. He just won’t say it.”

  “What are you talking about? He tells you he loves you all the time.”

  “Not anymore. Not since we’ve hooked up. He’s actually very careful about not saying it lately. But at least now I know he’s admitting it to himself, hence the romancing.”

  “Jesus,” Lizbeth muttered. “And they say women make things difficult. Why doesn’t he just own up to it?”

  “For Luc, to say it would open him up, make him vulnerable.” Robbie saw the confusion in Lizbeth’s face. “He was abandoned as a child, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It all stems from that. Don’t get too close, so when someone leaves you, it doesn’t hurt as much. He’s like that with everything, everyone. Keeps everyone at a distance. It took a lot of years for Luc and I to get as close as we are. Why do you think I stayed near for college, never took an internship?”

  “You stayed for him.” Lizbeth nodded. “I never got that before.”

  “I didn’t want him to feel like I abandoned him. He’d never admit it, but when Leah and Lawson moved away, it hit him hard, even though he knew they had no other choice.”

  “I thought he was tight with them.”

  “He is, to his credit. I know it wasn’t easy for him. But I wasn’t about to test those same waters myself. He’s too damn important to me. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t in love with him.”

  Lizbeth smiled. “So now he wants to take it slow?”

  “Yeah, or keep it special—meaningful.”

  “Regardless, that’s so…sweet. Wait. We are talking about Luc, right?” Lizbeth laughed.

  Robbie joined in. “It’s something, huh?”

  “That it is.” Lizbeth tipped her head to the side. “Ya know, Rob. Just because he won’t tell you how he feels doesn’t mean you can’t tell him. Who knows, it might pave the way for you.”

  “Could be.” Robbie glanced at the door when it opened, and watched as Payten strode in, heading straight for the bar.

  “Ugh,” Lizbeth said, drawing Robbie’s att
ention back to her. “That lady gives me a total creep vibe.”

  “Payten?” Robbie shrugged. “She seems nice. Kinda arrogant, but she’s a lawyer. What’d you expect?”

  Robbie looked over to see Luc heading towards the booth. Payten turned as she was waiting for her drink and nodded to Robbie in greeting.

  “Here comes Mr. Romance himself.” Lizbeth slid out of the booth. When Luc got to the table, she put a palm on each cheek and gave him a loud smack right on the mouth.

  Conrad yelled from behind the bar. “Hey, slick! Step away from the girl. That’s mine.”

  Lizbeth giggled, grabbing her stack of papers. “Keep up the good work, Luc.” And then she pointed a stern finger in his face. “But you keep your hands off the books from now on.”

  Luc watched Lizbeth walk away. “What was that all about?”

  Robbie gave him a sweet, innocent smile. “Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.”

  “Uh huh. And why don’t I believe you?”

  Payten walked up behind Luc and flashed a smile. “Hey, Robbie. Would you mind if I join you?”

  Robbie gestured to the other side of the booth. “Help yourself.”

  “Hey, Luc!” Conrad hollered over the growing crowd at the bar. “Could use a hand over here!”

  “I’ll be back,” Luc promised, tipping Robbie’s chin up to kiss her cheek.

  “I think that man is sweet on you,” Payten commented, glancing at his retreating figure.

  “I think you might be right.” Robbie smiled.

  “I gather you two go back a long ways?”

  “Since childhood.”

  “Really?” She took a drink of her beer. “I’m curious, Robbie. What was tall, dark and broody like as a child? Was he the same ball of sunshine back then as well?”

  “He’s always been a hard one to get to know.”

  “No,” Payten breathed, feigning surprise.

  Robbie giggled. “But he really has a heart of gold. Hell, I remember when we first met. We were twelve and I was new to the foster system.”