Frisk Me(32)

“What look?”

“You think I raised two sons and four grandsons and don’t recognize when they’ve got a woman on the brain? Who is she?”

“Nobody.”

Nonna sighed. “Just because you’re the baby of the family doesn’t mean I’ll let you get away with fibbing like your mother does.”

Luc lowered himself into the ancient wood chair at the tiny kitchen table. If having his grandmother for a roommate for the past three years had taught him anything, it was that the woman wouldn’t let up until she had her answers.

Neither would he get any of that carbonara until he’d thrown her at least a nugget to fret over.

Luc sighed and set his beer aside before leaning forward, resting his head briefly in his hands. She patted him on the head before settling into the chair across from him.

“Is she a looker?” Nonna asked.

Luc snorted and lifted his head. “It’s not quite what you think. There’s nothing even close to romantic going on, but…you know that godforsaken CBC story?”

“Don’t you go blaming the Lord because you’re a good guy and some tourist happened to catch that on camera and put it up on that Yoo-hooTube.”

“Well I’m more than happy to let God off the hook, because it just so happens there’s a very real-life person I can blame for the fact that I’m not able to put this circus behind me.”

“Ah, now we’re getting right down to it,” Nonna said, rubbing her hands together. “The Woman.”

“Ava Sims,” Luc said, his voice getting more irritable just by saying her name out loud. “She’s the main reporter assigned to the story, and she’s been following me around like the fu—freaking paparazzi for the past couple weeks.”

Nonna laughed and patted his hand. “So it’s like that then.”

“No, it’s just…I wish this whole thing would blow over.”

Even though I bought her flowers.

Her smile slipped a little. “Is it so bad then? Being rewarded for being an exceptional cop?”

Luc gritted his teeth to stop the instant denial. He wasn’t an exceptional cop.

If he were, Shayna and Mike would still be alive. But he didn’t talk about that. Not even with Nonna.

“Did I mention that Miss Sims and I have a history?” he said, knowing it would be exactly the kind of topic change that she would latch on to.

Nonna’s gray eyebrows lifted. “Did you fornicate?”

Luc choked on his beer. “Jesus, no. And there should be a ban against that word.”

“Don’t be prudish, Luca. So if you didn’t fornicate with this girl, how did you know her? Did she fornicate with one of your brothers? Anthony gets around.”

“I’ll tell him you said so,” Luc muttered. “And no, she hasn’t fornicated with any Moretti.”

At least he hoped not.

“Three years ago, I gave her a parking ticket.”

Nonna’s eyes went big. “No! Not a parking ticket!”

He gave her a look. “Are grandmothers allowed to be this sarcastic? Aren’t you supposed to be doting with baked goods?”

She pointed toward the kitchen. “I’ve got pancetta from Ottomanelli’s sizzling in the pan. You don’t think that’s doting?”

Nonna had a point. He’d take the salty Italian bacon over a cup of hot tea any day.

“So if you haven’t bagged her, what’s the story with this Sims girl?”

“Bagged her, Nonna? Really? But it’s like I said…I gave her a parking ticket a couple years ago. We had words. Sparks, I guess,” he said, feeling awkward.

And I bought her flowers.

Nonna cackled.

“She didn’t pay the ticket,” Luc muttered. “Presented it to me on the same day she dropped the bomb about this damn America’s Hero story.”

“I hope you cuffed her. Can’t be letting a criminal like that roam the streets.”

Luc closed his eyes. “How is it possible that you gave birth to the former Police Commissioner of New York City?”

“Posh. You think your father hasn’t waved away a few parking tickets back when I had a car for a hot minute in eighty-four?”

Luc leaned forward. “Has he?”

Nonna ignored him, getting up to baby her pancetta. “This girl bothers you.”

Hell yes she bothers me.

Luc took another sip of beer. “Mostly she worries me. She has a lot of power over my life; she can portray me however she wants, to God knows how many people. I should be trying to get on her good side.”

“Oh passerotto. You’ve looked in the mirror. You don’t have to try to get on any woman’s good side, you just give a little wink.”

“So I’m your favorite then?” Luc gave her his best smile.

“Depends. You going to do my yoga with me later?”

“God. No. Never.”

“Then Elena’s still my favorite. We’re doing hot yoga next week.”

“Sounds…awful,” Luc said, standing and going toward the cheese that she put purposefully on the counter for him to grate.

They worked in companionable silence for several minutes before Nonna spoke again. “You know, if you want to get on the good side of this girl without shagging her silly—”