Frisk Me(37)

His eyes locked on hers.

Her tone had been joking, but the way she’d phrased it had seemed distinctly couple-minded. If the hand-holding hadn’t set his family into a tizzy, this would.

And they didn’t even know about a certain two dozen white roses.

“Nonna, what are you doing to the tomatoes?” his mother demanded, pressing her palm heels to her temples. “You’re mangling them.”

“Posh. You never do a good job of releasing the juices.”

“Those ‘juices’ are all over my floor.”

“So I’ll clean it.”

“You’re eighty-two.”

“But I do yoga, which is more than I can say about some people—”

The Moretti siblings exchanged an exacerbated glance. Their argument over tomatoes was pretty standard.

And if it wasn’t tomatoes it was the brand of ricotta Ma bought, or that Nonna oversalted the pasta water, et cetera, et cetera.

Luc’s mom had been born in Italy and, although she’d only lived there until she was two, considered herself real Italian.

Unlike Nonna who only had a long-lasting marriage to the late Rico Moretti.

Still, Nonna didn’t let a little thing like genetics undermine her authority.

And when it came to cooking methods, the animosity between his mother and grandmother was mighty.

“What’s going on?” Ava whispered.

“If you’re wondering if they’re going to kill each other…maybe…” Luc’s father said, not looking the least bit perturbed by the escalating argument between his wife and mother.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Elena said, wiggling her way between Ava and Luc and linking arms with Ava. “I never get any girl company. Except when Jill joins us.”

“There are more of you?” Ava looked ready to pass out, although no doubt she was just peeved that there was a player that her research hadn’t uncovered.

“Jill is Vincent’s partner,” Elena said with a nod toward Vin. “She joins us for dinner whenever she and Vin aren’t fighting.”

“Which is never,” Vincent said, finally pushing away from the wall and snagging an olive from the charcuterie board. “The woman’s a menace.”

“Ah, so all of the Moretti men are good with the ladies then,” Ava said with a pointed look at Luc.

“Oh God, no,” Elena said, missing Ava’s sarcasm. “Vincent’s lucky to get through a first date without a woman breaking into tears. Not even kidding. And Anthony’s got that tall, brooding thing happening that women think they want, but then he remembers that he’s married to the job, and he forgets his girlfriends’ names at inopportune moments—”

“That happened once,” Anthony broke in with a warning finger pointed at Elena. “And you know I was in the middle of that Weedleton case.”

“Yawn,” Elena shot back. “No cop talk at dinner, remember?”

“Is that even possible?” Ava murmured.

No, Luc thought to himself.

“No,” Elena said with a sigh.

“So you were never tempted to go into the family business?” Ava asked, taking a sip of wine.

Luc nearly smiled. The reporter was definitely still there under all her pretty manners.

“Hell no,” Elena said. “For starters, Dad wouldn’t let me, because he lives in the Middle Ages—”

“Because he loves his only daughter,” Tony corrected.

“But it’s never been my dream job anyway,” she continued.

“What is?” Ava asked politely.

Elena shot a cheeky grin at the men of her family. “I’m an attorney. Defense.”

Luc watched as Ava’s lips pursed. Her research already had revealed Elena’s career, but he could tell she was just now putting together the pieces of what Elena’s job meant for family dynamics:

Four brothers and a father on one side of the law. A lone sister on the other.

This was why they didn’t talk shop at family dinners.

“Anyway,” Elena said. “Vincent and Anthony are terrible with women. It’s Luc that’s always been the ladies’ man.”

Luc groaned. For the first time ever, he actually wished his sister would keep going on about her career.

“Oh, do tell,” Ava said, giving Elena her full-on attention.

Luc plucked the wineglass from Ava’s hand.

“Wait, I wasn’t done,” she said, her voice just a tiny bit desperate.

“I’m getting you a refill. Trust me,” he said, heading back toward the side bar, “you’re going to need a big-girl pour tonight.”





CHAPTER FIFTEEN



As far as Moretti family dinners went, everyone was on their best behavior. Mostly. Sure, Elena checked her phone under the table, and Vincent was short on smiles, and his mom and grandma dropped a few too many hints about wishing Luca had a nice girl like you.

But all in all, it was as good as Luc could have expected.

And yet still, Ava was nervous. Not that she showed it outright. She was perfectly pleasant, smiling at all the right things, making all the appropriate small talk. But more than once he’d caught her fingernail sneaking up to her mouth where she nibbled it lightly before catching herself and taking a sip of wine.