Page 5 of Right With You
Her shoulders rose as she sucked in a breath. “Do you prefer Cookie?”
I ducked my chin. “Do you?”
She rolled her eyes. “Goodness, who knew when you decided to talk, this is what it’d be like?”
Grinning again, I took mercy on her. “Call me Luc, if you like.”
She nodded, accepting the offer. And now, time for me to go. Especially before she brought up what I’d let slip earlier when addressing that jackass. I had no desire to explain why the lie had tripped so easily off my tongue in the moment.
“À plus tard, Elise,” I said, then stepped away, not wanting to draw attention because by now I knew very well she wouldn’t want that. For as entrenched in this community as she was, she was a private person. What’d happened between her and Callum, or me and Callum for that matter, was not something she’d want anyone knowing.
And again—so relatable.
The sooner both of us forgot this, the better.
“Bye,” she said softly.
Though I didn’t look back, it didn’t keep me from thinking about her the rest of the day. Because those words I’d let slip, they hadn’t come from nowhere. They stemmed from the impulsive lie I’d told my family about my relationship with her. Soon enough, I’d have to deal with it and shut it all down.
Or I’d have to tell her why my family thought she was my fiancée.
CHAPTERTHREE
Luc
Kenny’s voice reached me on Dorian’s porch where I paced.
“Alright, baby boy. I know it’s gorgeously springy out and that’s good for the soul after a long winter, but you coming in here voluntarily, or do I need to drag you in?”
“J’arrive.” I didn’t often use French with my friends, but Stone had started studying French in the last year, so I used it more often at his house, and Kenny didn’t seem to mind.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you pace, so you can skip the stoic Frenchman bit and let it out,” Kenny said, leaning on Dorian’s kitchen counter like he owned the place.
Dorian glanced up from where he was grating something on top of something else, likely a petit four or other delicate little bite we’d all share over tea this afternoon. So today wasn’t going to be Bake Off meets Home Reno—he was nearly finished with remodeling inside the small cabin next door, and now that we’d discovered his project, we did the heavy lifting while he prepared us some vol-au-vents or other treat in the kitchen. We all enjoyed his baking habit, especially since he’d gotten quite good after moving here to Silverton.
At the threshold of the living room, I stopped in front of the regal Alaskan Malamute standing sentry. “Bear,bonjour, Monseigneur.” I leaned down and touched my forehead to his. He may have looked like a dog bred with a wolf, but he was, much like his owner, a sweetie inside.
“Did you just refer to my dog as lord of the manor or something?” Stone asked as he set down two platters of treats, and Kenny shuffled behind him with a little tray holding a teapot and teacups.
“Gosh, I needed this,” Kenny said, slumping into the couch and leaning back, brushing a hand over his face.
“What’s going on?” I asked, happy to not be talking about me.
“There doesn’t need to be anything wrong for me to need some tea with my boys, but I’ll admit I’m over this whole long-distance situation.”
He sat forward and nodded when Stone held up a cube of sugar. Stone dropped it in, then handed him his teacup resting on a saucer.
“When’s she back?” Stone asked as he poured my drink—straight up, no milk or sugar, because I was a man of principle and it would be a shame to mar a quality Darjeeling, unlike some at the table.
The satisfaction of being known bloomed in me, followed by a stab of razor-sharp guilt. Yes, these men knew me… in some ways.
“Four more days,” Kenny grumbled, then flicked out his pinky and took a delicate but obnoxiously loud sip of his tea.
I chuckled, and Stone cracked a miniscule smile.
“Actually, I’m fine. I’m just whining. I found the love of my life and she’s about to be done with all her out-briefings and CIA shenanigans in DC and will be moving back here and…” He sighed and leaned back against the couch again. “It’s kind of unbelievable.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked, sliding a tiny lemon tart from the tray in front of me into my mouth. The bright flavor burst on my tongue, and the buttery crust created a perfect combination. I held up the tray to Kenny, signaling he had to try one as I chewed.
