Luke looked at me, not knowing George and I felt the knife that was plunged in my belly twisting. George was serious history, pre-weight loss, pre-Rick-Dave-and-Noah, a sweet guy but a geek and so not in Luke’s league it was sad.

The fact that Mom still thought I was out of Luke’s league hurt like hell. I’d worked hard to be a Barlow Bombshell but that was totally lost on her. For the past week four seriously hot guys had been after me like I was the best thing since sliced bread but in my head that evaporated. Mom thought me doing the impossible – landing Luke – was bigger news than me being “all banged up” and that was killer.

“George?” Luke asked me.

“Her first boyfriend,” Marilyn answered helpfully.

“He wasn’t my first boyfriend,” I mumbled even though he kind of was.

“You and George were cute together. He was all snugly soft. Perfect for you,” Sofia threw in.

“Snugly soft is right,” Marilyn said.

“The soft is right. Dough boy,” Sofia giggled

“This is unbelievable,” Luke growled low, watching the Barlow Super Bitch Byplay with an angry gaze. I could tell his control was slipping and I couldn’t do a thing about it.

“Didn’t he pop your cherry?” Marilyn put in and my stomach plummeted as my lungs seized.

Luke went totally still.

Here we go. They had warmed up and were ready to throw down.

“Marilyn!” Mom snapped, not protecting me, more embarrassed that Luke and Mrs. Stark could hear.

“Well, he did,” Sofia told Mom.

“That’s no reason to share,” Mom went on.

“I knew the minute it happened,” Marilyn stated, so into the Barlow Super Bitch Fest she ignored Mom, Luke’s scary anger filling the room, Mrs. Stark’s horrified, furious gaze and me. “He always followed her around like a little puppy, after he nailed her it got worse.”

“She probably popped his cherry too,” Sofia told Marilyn and they were now holding a conversation like no one else was in the room.

“Can you imagine?” Marilyn bugged her eyes out at Sofia at the very thought of Dough Boy George and Fatty, Fatty Four-Eyes fumbling around popping each other’s cherries.

I was back to wanting to run screaming from the house except I couldn’t seem to get my limbs to move.

“Quiet,” Luke said softly but lethally and all eyes turned to him.

“Lucas –” Mrs. Stark began but Luke kept talking.

“Your sister is standin’ in front of you with a busted lip and a black eye, her man at her side, and you bitches are talkin’ about… whatever the f**k it is you’re talkin’ about,” Luke said, his voice vibrating with anger.

“Did you just call us bitches?” Marilyn asked, her eyes wide and her voice filled with offended surprise.

“You act like a bitch, I’ll call you a bitch and you’re actin’ like a f**kin’ bitch,” Luke answered.

“Oh my God,” Sofia breathed.

“He’s kind of a straight-talker,” I put in quietly.

“You were men, I would teach you some manners. Though growin’ up you never had any so I don’t imagine you’ll start now,” Luke carried on. “Difference is, back then I wasn’t in the position to say what I’m gonna say now. Back, the f**k, down. Ava tells me any more of that shit you just treated us to goes down, you’re both out on your asses and you aren’t comin’ back. Your sister is a memory for you and you two cease to exist for her. Is that understood?”

Marilyn and Sofia stared at him.

“Is that understood?” Luke barked.

They jumped at his tone then nodded, as anyone would.

Ho-ly shit.

Luke looked at my Mom. “It’s up to Ava what she wants to tell you about her troubles. She doesn’t feel like sharin’, that’s her choice. You’ll deal with it. I hear you don’t, it’s not gonna make me happy.”

“But –” Mom cut in, she looked confused, shell-shocked and as if she didn’t know how to feel.

Luke leaned forward a bit at the waist and thankfully Mom went quiet.

“Take your daughter to breakfast,” Luke said in a low warning tone that said he was, quite simply, done. Then he looked at me. “Breakfast doesn’t go your way, beautiful, you call me, I’ll send someone to get you.”

“Okay,” I whispered but I had a feeling breakfast was going to go my way.

His arm got tight and his voice got quiet as he ordered, “Walk me to my car.”

Without looking back, we walked to the Porsche. He turned and leaned against it, pulling me between his legs and into his arms.

“Your f**kin’ sisters,” he swore, his eyes on my house and I could tell he was still angry.

I leaned into him, putting my hands on chest. He took in a breath and looked down at me.

“You’re like a flower that grew through a crack in the sidewalk,” he told me.

I didn’t say a word, couldn’t. I’d forgotten how to speak.

“I want you checkin’ in,” he demanded.

“Okay,” I said, finding my voice.

“We would stay at the loft tonight but –”

“I know,” I cut him off.

“After this shit is over, I’ll have blinds put in.”

“Okay,” I repeated.

“You gonna be able to get through breakfast?”

I nodded and told him. “I think I owe you again.”

“Yeah. You’re rackin’ up quite a debt,” he bent his head and touched my lips then his body relaxed and his face went soft. “I like it,” he muttered.

For some crazy reason, tears started to fill my eyes and Luke saw them.

“Babe.”

I put my hands to either side of his neck. “Thank you.”

His arms went tight and his forehead came to mine. “You just paid off this particular debt.”

At that announcement, I melted into him.

“You still owe me,” he went on.

I smiled because I didn’t mind, not one bit. “I think I like it that you protect me,” I confided, don’t ask me why, I just did.

It was a good thing to do.

“Ava,” he whispered, his face soft, his eyes ultra warm, his arms getting even tighter.

“No one’s done that, not like that. Not even Dad.”

“Beautiful –”

“Thank you, Luke.”

“You already said that.”