Frisk Me(78)

“So what, you’re a poet now?” she muttered, grabbing at her wineglass.

Luc shrugged affably. “Fine. Don’t talk about it.”

He reached for a box of some beef dish she’d forgotten the name of, and dumped more onto his plate, the topic apparently forgotten.

He didn’t push.

And unfortunately for both of them, his quiet understanding and no-pressure attitude are exactly what she needed to want to spill her guts.

So she did.

“My family is a bunch of shallow, glory-seeking jerks.”

Luc’s chewing slowed and he got up to fetch the wine bottle. “Okay. I knew they weren’t exactly family of the year, but…what’s that have to do with you?”

Ava shrugged moodily as he topped off her wineglass. “You won’t get this because your family is great. But sometimes I get this feeling that mine has totally messed me up.”

He sat across from her, his expression patient.

She forged on.

“It’s like…” She swirled her glass but didn’t take a sip. “Luc?”

“Sweetie?”

The endearment nearly broke her, but she forged on. “Am I bitchy? You know…cynical, shallow, ambitious, unlikable…you know…a bitch?”

Wordlessly he stood, picking up their wineglasses and jerking her head toward the couch. “We are not having this conversation with cold pad Thai between us.”

Honky Tonky followed at his heels, leaping up to his lap the second he sat down. Ava shook her head at the sight of the broad police officer and spoiled cat lounging on her couch as though they belonged there.

She hesitantly followed after them, sitting beside Luc. It was oddly vulnerable. The cold pad Thai he mentioned may be increasingly unappealing, but it had provided a buffer.

A buffer that was nowhere to be found when he gently pulled her toward him. Ava sighed in contentment as she settled against his chest, earning a glare from her cat, who refused to budge.

His hand found a strand that had escaped her ponytail, and Ava frowned at the confusion rippling through her.

Confusion at the complexity of a hero cop who was long on charm, short on pretense, with a hidden sweet side.

How was a girl supposed to resist a combo like that?

“So,” he said softly. “Who put it in your head that you’re…what word did you use? Bitchy? Do I need to beat someone up?”

She shifted her cheek against his chest, adjusting her glasses slightly. “Don’t you dare. You’ll ruin my whole story if you go vigilante on me.”

“Nah, people love that shit,” he said. “But seriously…talk to me, Sims.”

She shifted her cheek again, this time just for the sheer pleasure of feeling the soft warmth of his shirt.

“I talked to my dad today,” she said, petting the cat, who all but rolled his eyes at her.

“The mayor himself, huh?”

She smiled at that. “Seems he found time in his busy schedule of serving Darrington, Oklahoma, to pep-talk his eldest.”

“Ah, so it was one of those conversations.”

“It’s always one of those conversations,” Ava said.

She heard the bitterness in her voice and hated it. Why couldn’t she be one of those people who could shake off the opinions of those around her? Why couldn’t she be like Beth, who could cheerfully laugh off her mother’s chronic interference on all things wedding, or gently ignore her mother-in-law’s demands to sing at the ceremony?

Why did Ava have to let her family and all of their relentless ambition get under her skin?

“If you hold it all in, you’ll get constipated, Sims,” Luc said, still playing with her hair.

She smiled, in spite of herself. “Is that what they teach you at the police academy?”

“More like street smarts learned from being the youngest in a family of five. You’ve got lots of opportunities to watch your older siblings sulk their way through high school. Also, Sims? You’re stalling.”

“Fine, okay,” she said on a huff, pushing back from his chest to sit up. She reached for her wine. Took a sip, took a breath.

“I told my dad all about my story. About how it had been approved for the prime-time spot. And he was thrilled, of course, and then because I fed off his praise like I’m a pathetic seven-year-old, I kept going. I told him about all the praise I’ve been getting from the boss, and the boss’s boss, and how I think I’m going to get a promotion out of it…”

“Okay,” Luc said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“And then I realized…I don’t even know if I want it. I don’t know why I’m doing it.”

He frowned. “Don’t know why you’re doing what?”

She forced herself to meet his eyes. “Any of it.”

“You mean, like…this story?”

“That. And all the other crap stories CBC gives me. No offense.”

He grinned. “None taken.”

“It’s just…” She nibbled her fingernail. “I don’t want to just recite facts that are handed to me, I want to find the facts. I want…I want to tell the stories that matter. Not the ones that everyone else is telling because they’re popular. Is this crazy talk?”

Luc’s smile was gentle. “I’m going to ask you something, and promise to think on it for a second before you answer, okay?”