“Can I have some cantaloupe?” I asked, turning to Luke.

He tilted his chin up in a nonverbal “yes”.

There was a cutting board in his sink. I put down the cantaloupe and went to work cleaning the cutting board.

“You’re well-stocked.” Again, I was delaying “the talk”.

“Sandra went shopping.”

“Sandra?”

“A woman I’m seein’.”

At his words it took every bit of energy I had not to freeze, gasp or maybe vomit.

Of course he would be seeing someone. Luke was hot. Luke was a guy. Luke had a testosterone-fuelled job. He had to be getting it from someone. He didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who would be faithful to his hand like I was faithful to my vibrators.

“Will she mind if I eat her cantaloupe?” I asked, drying the board and not looking at him.

“It’s my cantaloupe. Sandra got it but I paid for it and it’s in my fridge,” he answered.

I nodded, set down the board, unwrapped the cantaloupe and grabbed a knife out of a big butcher block and started cutting. I tried not to think about the messy bed Luke threw me into last night and hoped he hadn’t thrown me into a bed that got messy through his activities with another woman.

I failed at not thinking about it.

“Will she mind that I spent the night?”

Why did you ask that? Silly girl, Good Ava remonstrated me.

I’m so sure! He handcuffed you to him and slept with you when he’s seeing someone else. What a jerk, Bad Ava huffed.

“We’re not exclusive so it’s none of her business,” Luke answered.

See! He’s a jerk, Bad Ava ranted.

Good Ava kept her silence, likely pouting.

He had come to stand by me at the counter. I could see the side of his hip leaning against it out of the corner of my eye. I ignored the hip and kept cutting.

“Do you want cantaloupe?” I asked, keeping my eyes on my task.

“No, I want to stop talking about cantaloupe and start talking about your troubles.”

Shit.

“Okay,” I said, still cutting. Then I was silent.

So was Luke, for a moment, then he broke the silence.

“Ava,” his voice held a warning.

My mind raced for an excuse for another delay and it found none.

Fuckity, f**k, f**k, f**k.

Time to get it over with.

“Um… well. You know my friend Sissy?” I asked, eyes on the melon.

“Yeah.”

“She’s married to Dominic Vincetti.”

“I worked that part out,” he told me.

“Now, they’re kind of separated.”

Silence.

“She’s going to file for divorce.”

More silence.

“She’s up in Wyoming, staying with her Mom.”

I looked at the cantaloupe and realized I had cut far too much for just myself. Oh well, at least Sandra wouldn’t have to worry about cutting up the cantaloupe next time she was there. I put down the knife, picked up a chunk of melon and popped it into my mouth.

“Are you done?” Luke asked, my eyes slid sideways to look at him and I swallowed.

“Um… yeah.”

“That’s it? Your trouble is that Sissy’s filing for divorce?”

I grabbed another chunk and put it into my mouth while I turned to him and leaned my hip against the counter. “She’s my best friend. Her troubles are my troubles.”

Luke stared at me for a beat then said, “So why were you there last night?”

“She needed something and asked me to get it for her.”

“She needed something out of Vincetti’s nightstand?”

Hell and damnation.

I looked down at the melon and back at Luke. “I cut too much melon just for me. You sure you don’t want any?” I stalled again.

He shook his head, totally seeing through me, but took a chunk and put it in his mouth. I found watching him chew was weirdly fascinating and decided I was not a dork, I was a freak.

Once he swallowed, he said (his voice kinda scary), “Ava, I’m not gonna tell you again not to lie.”

Crap.

I took another chunk of melon and chewed while glaring at him. “You know,” I told him, again trying to stall. “This is really none of your business.”

“It became my business when you and I were caught in a hail of gunfire.”

Hmm.

In all fairness, he was kind of right, though I wasn’t about to tell him that nor was I going to give in. I didn’t ask him to be there.

I nabbed another chunk of melon and chewed it angrily, now seriously glaring at him. “I didn’t ask you to be there,” I pointed out. “You weren’t even supposed to be there.”

“Okay, then it became my business when you walked into the offices yesterday.”

“No it didn’t.”

“Yes, it did.”

“No. It didn’t.”

He took another chunk of melon and threw it in his mouth calmly then his eyes came back to me and I noticed he was totally oblivious to my glare.

“I don’t need your help,” I told him, switching subjects and still delaying.

“Right,” he said.

“I don’t.”

“Maybe you would have had the presence of mind to get out of the line of fire last night, maybe you wouldn’t. With the way you freaked out afterward, I doubt you would have. The way I figure it, you owe me double.”

I blinked with confusion. “Double?” I asked. “I owe you double for what?”

“Saving your ass last night and not telling me you have a situation.”

I shook my head, not following. “Excuse me?”

“You’re standing here, right now, because of me. And yesterday, I told you if I found out you had trouble, you’d pay. You’re paying.”

I was not getting a good feeling about this.

“I don’t… I don’t even know what to say. That’s just crazy,” I told him.

“Nope, it isn’t. Last November a friend of mine did something brave but stupid to save someone she cared about. She got a bullet to the chest and another one to the belly for her troubles.”

Yikes.

I sucked in breath at his announcement and the way he shared it. He looked angry and his body was tense and I knew this event affected him in a profound way (as it would anyone).