“I lied,” Luc said, eyes finally settling on her face.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
“About coming here for a drink.” He shook his head with that self-deprecating expression that made her want to wrap her arms around him. He had to speak loudly to be heard over the music, which, she could tell, only served to make him uncomfortable. “I came here to see you.”
Oh, that did it. That woke her up. Swallowing back whatever she’d been about to say, she watched him and held back her smile.
“But Le Dog is outside, so I should—”
“Hold on.” Abby turned to call to Rory. “Can we bring the wine upstairs?”
“Course, love.” Rory threw a look at Luc, which she appreciated.
“Meet me at the back door. I’ll open it up for you, and you can come up to my…my place,” she finished. The words felt strange in her mouth, like she was an imposter, or a child pretending.
“Yes. Yes, I’ll do that,” Luc said before walking off, his big body cutting a too-large swath through the crowd.
Rory set down two glasses and an open bottle of wine on the car beside her.
“So that’s your poison, then.” She frowned for a second, thinking he meant the wine, until she followed his gaze to Luc’s departing back. “We’ve all got our Kryptonite, haven’t we?”
“Our what?”
He blinked slowly, eyes focused sharply on her, and she had the distinct feeling she’d divulged too much information with that bit of ignorance.
“Man of Steel? Superman? The only thing that fells him?” he asked, and rather than continue to show her ignorance, Abby smiled and forced out a tight chuckle.
“Oh, right. Of course,” she said and turned away.
“You’re not in Kansas anymore, darling.”
“Definitely,” she said, with absolutely no idea what he was talking about. Picking up the bottle and glasses, she turned and headed to the back.
25
The tiny apartment upstairs from the Nook reminded Luc of something you’d find on the top floor of a Paris apartment building. A real estate agent would no doubt call this “character.” Le Dog didn’t seem to mind, though. With a satisfied huff, he settled next to what looked like a heating vent. Not even the thumping floor seemed to bother him.
“You’re living here?”
“Yes.” She indicated that he should sit, but he couldn’t. Who could possibly sit with this much…energy running through him?
He shoved back the anger he felt at Abby living in a place like this. Cracks in the ceiling, a kitchen sink stained beyond repair, linoleum that should have been replaced decades ago. She didn’t belong here.
Not like she belongs in your crappy cabin, came a voice from the back of his mind.
Swallowing back the hounding voices of doubt, he served the wine and waited for her to sit. When she didn’t, he stayed standing, suddenly filled with doubt.
“I’ve…I’ve missed you.” The words didn’t sound like his. They sounded too weak. Too real.
“You have?” Her eyes were massive and liquid, and fuck, they made him feel so damned alive.
He huffed out a strangled laugh and slugged back a glass of wine rather than throwing himself at her feet.
“How are you feeling?” he asked in lieu of a response.
“Fine. Better.”
“Your back?”
