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“Oh, shut it.”
“Proud of yourself?”
“She has to hear it, Lili. This isn’t some indictment on your art. I just think she should have something a bit more wholesome. Guys see that picture and she’s going to be fighting them off with a stick. And the kind of guys who use those sites are weirdos. Men who can’t get dates in the normal way.”
She blinked at his outburst, which had sounded a bit overcooked. “So is Jules a weirdo for doing this?”
“It’s different for women, especially women who don’t get a chance to meet people through the usual channels. I can understand why she’s doing this.” Hated it, but understood it. “The men are bad news. At least, if she looked like—”
“Like a mom?”
“What’s wrong with looking like a mom?”
“Nothing, but maybe she’d like to look like a sexy, gorgeous, bangin’ mom. A MILF.” She wrinkled her nose. “Do they still say that?”
He cleared his throat noisily. “Yeah, they still say that.”
“She’s beautiful and there’s no reason why she shouldn’t be allowed to have a little fun.”
Not on his watch. “I thought she just wanted to find someone to have dinner or go to a movie with.”
Lili looked at him like he was an idiot. “Perhaps she’d like to take a turn around the block a few times with a down ’n dirty pop-pop before she digs into the husband hunt.”
His head was building to explode. How the hell was he supposed to get Lili and Cara on his side when the two of them made such a formidable team? He’d said it before and he’d say it again: every single woman in his family was a menace.
“Jack’s not going to like that at all.”
Lili laughed, a naughty tickle. “I know. He’s going to hate it, but he’s got to admit his sister is all grown up and she’s ready to play.” She cocked her head and considered him.Hereit comes.
“There’s nothing to stop you from asking her out yourself.”
“She’s my friend,” he said, not feeling in the least bit friendly toward anyone right now, especially one Juliet Kilroy.
“I know you like her, cuz. What I don’t understand is why you won’t do anything about it.”
“I like her too much to inflict someone like me on her.”
“Whatever that means.” She stared at him, her grin fading. “God, you’re serious, aren’t you? You really think you’re not good enough for her.”
Crap on ciabatta, that had not come out right. Before he could respond, she was out of her seat, looking like…Jesus, like she wanted to hug him or something. That was not how they operated. He was the one who gave the comfort. Always had been.
“You want to talk about it?” she asked, biting her lip.
“About what?”
“The price of olive oil, dummy.” She rolled her eyes. “How about how you look at her like she’s the only woman in the world or how your eyes light up like Michigan Avenue at Christmas every time you hold Evan.”
His heart seized at her words, at the rightness of them. As close as they were, they didn’t talk about the important things, or at least about what was important to him. And they were not about to start.
“She’s like a sister or cousin to me,” he said, getting back to Jules and his brotherly concern. “Annoying, pain-in-my-ass, whatever. I wouldn’t be doing my job as an overbearing Italian relative if I didn’t have an opinion about this.”
His cousin gave him the DeLuca stare down. She’d always been the best at it but he’d always been the best at withstanding it.
When he refused to melt under the weight of her glare, she asked archly, “Just doing your job?”
“Just doing my job.”
Ten
