“You think she should pretend to date Rene? I’m not saying he won’t do it,” Remy was saying. “He funds that clinic. If she can’t win over the town, he’ll be the one everyone complains to. But I think she would be far better off with Armie.”

Armie. Armand. Sheriff LaVigne, of the broad shoulders and sexy lips.

Lisa wrinkled her nose. “Really? I don’t see it, babe. I know my sister. She’s more interested in intellectuals. Armie is not her type.”

Because intensely gorgeous and manly wasn’t her type. Because she wasn’t interested in sex. That’s basically what her sister was saying. Not that Lila blamed her. She’d scheduled gifts to herself and she’d also scheduled sex. She’d read somewhere that normal couples had sex once a week. Friday had been their sex night.

“I’m not going to fake date anyone.” It was a terrible idea. “But I will try to fit in better. I’ll go to the hair salon. I’ll eat where you tell me to. I’ll help out where I can and I’ll smile when it’s appropriate, and I’ll make sure it’s not a murder smile.”

Remy’s face split into the most glorious grin. “Oh, now I’m interested. This is going to be far more fun than I thought it would. I’m going to go save my wife some bread pudding. She gets cranky without her dessert. Can I save you some?”

If she didn’t eat rice, she actively ran from desserts. “Sure. I’ll give it a try.”

Discipline hadn’t made her happy. No. That was wrong. Discipline had gotten her the education she’d always wanted. It had gotten her the job she loved. It had lifted her and her siblings out of poverty. Discipline wasn’t the problem. Self-denial and guilt were the problems. Insecurity was the problem. Closing herself off from everything and everyone so no one could hurt her was the problem.

Lisa was looking at her like she’d done something brave. “I think you’ll like it.”

She wouldn’t know if she didn’t try. “Maybe.”

She picked up her fork. Did she eat it with a fork or a spoon? What was proper?

Maybe when one was eating bayou food in a restaurant that sported a big old playpen in the middle of the dining room floor where the patrons let their kids play, it didn’t matter.

She took a bite as her sister started talking about plans for the town picnic.

Jambalaya, it turned out, was delicious.

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