Been There Done That (Leffersbee #1) - Hope Ellis Page 0,45

and Harry Potter Nimbus 2000 vibrator . . . well, that would have been in the neighborhood of humiliating.

“I am happy.” I smiled widely, taking dark pleasure in the sudden hard glint in his eyes, while also feeling strangely remorseful. “He’s a wonderful man.” It was the truth. “He’s doing a great job as deputy sheriff, and he’s a great leader in the community.”

“Good parents, right kind of family, good match. Right?”

I frowned. Nick gripped his water glass as he studied its contents. His mouth twisted in a bitter line, jaw working.

There was something there, something lurking underneath his words, but I had no idea what it was.

“I guess,” I hazarded, searching his face for clues. That was one of the most frustrating things about all of this. How some parts of him, even the smallest gestures, were still familiar. But moments like this reminded me there was a dark side to the moon now, new identities and selves that Nick had cultivated over all these years. I wasn’t privy to them.

Watching him during the brittle silence, I frantically groped for what had upset him, what had tripped the wire to some strong, hidden undercurrent of emotion.

“Sounds like he’s a perfect fit.” His gaze, full of fire now, met mine. “Someone the town, and certainly your parents, like seeing you with.”

I’d gone rigid, now fairly certain that I was taking some kind quiz or test, one with high stakes involved. And I was failing.

“I guess my parents get along with Sheriff James, and Janet has always been very nice,” I said lamely.

“Sounds like what you deserve then.” His tight smile did nothing to smooth the jagged edges of his tone.

I stared at him, feeling lost in a conflict I’d never seen coming.

“How is your family, by the way?” We both sat back as the waiter set my requested bowl of soup in front of me and placed a platter of stuffed mushrooms in the center of the table.

“They’re fine,” I said, feeling my way around the suddenly unstable, marshy territory.

How had this thing turned around on me?

He nodded, as if inviting more.

“My parents are . . . fine. The same. Tavia finished graduate school at Wharton and actually spent some time here in New York doing financial things I never quite understand. Something with hedge funds.”

Nick bit back a smile.

“She’s back in Green Valley now, working at the bank with Walker.”

“The two of them—they’re still oil and water?”

I shook my head and let out a slight huff. “Yep. She’s currently thwarting all of Walker’s attempts to manage the bank and its expansion. Explosions and fireworks every day. All very exciting, from what I hear of it.”

“And you’re, what, still contributing in an ‘as needed’ capacity? I noticed you’ve been representing the bank at fundraisers and events. Couldn’t quite break away from the family business, I see.”

He raised a brow and I suddenly felt naked, vulnerable, as I remembered all the times I’d bitched to him about getting away. The promises I’d made to us both about overthrowing the expectations, the pressure. The weight.

This dinner was starting to feel like a depressing, subversive version of This is Your Life.

This is Your Fucked-Up Life.

“I’m supposed to be a pinch hitter, for the most part. I’ve been too busy to really contribute meaningfully for a while now. They trot me out for special occasions to network with snobby people, present checks, or extort my relationships at the university.” I shrugged. “Not that bad.”

Only, sometimes it was.

He nodded, absorbed in smearing the condensation on his glass. “That’s good.”

I wriggled uncomfortably in my chair, more than ready to turn the bright light of scrutiny back on him.

“And, how about you? How’s your mom?”

His entire demeanor changed. His throat worked for a moment before his gaze landed in the opposite corner of the room.

And then I realized my mistake.

I should have proceeded much more carefully, in retrospect. But . . . I hadn’t been thinking. And now we were in quicksand.

“She died.”

His response, delivered in a near-whisper, seemed to clot any additional words from him. He took a deep breath, then subsided into silence.

I struggled upwards through layers of shock and disbelief. I realized I’d always assumed his mother had gotten better, likely because I’d known her for many years before she’d developed a problem. And she’d hidden it so well, for so long. Had her addiction been the cause of her death? Or something else?

Giving into impulse, I leaned forward and captured Nick’s hand in