How (Not) to Fall in Love (16 page)

Whoa. I flinched as if he’d slapped me. He made me sound like a freak.

His frown deepened as he took in my reaction. “Darcy. What’d I say?” He leaned forward, reaching a hand toward me, but I brushed it away, turning so he couldn’t see my face.

Damn it. What the hell was going on? He was sending me all kinds of mixed signals. Sort of flirting but sort of not. Trying to compliment me but making it sound like an insult.

“Shit,” he whispered. He powered off the TV. “Darcy. Look at me.”

I shook my head.

“Please.”

Slowly, I turned toward him. Everything about him screamed maximum frustration. I closed my eyes, hating what I saw. I wanted to see so much more from him.

“What do you want from me, Lucas?” I asked, keeping my eyes closed.

He was quiet so long that I opened my eyes. His gaze was scorching. So was this angry Lucas? Or was that heat in his eyes something else?

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, his voice so low it made me shiver. “What do you want from me, Darcy?”

I heard Sal’s voice in my mind.
“It’s not a date. But it’s something.”

There were so many ways this could blow up in my face. I was pretty sure telling him I wanted him to whisk me away in a carriage was the wrong answer. Telling him I wanted him to kiss me? To see me as more than a babysitter? That was the honest answer, but one I’d never admit.

I took a long, deep breath, thinking about how he’d said I didn’t need anyone.

“It’s not true, what you said about me not needing anyone,” I said, keeping my eyes on his. “I do need people.”

He waited, still as stone.

“I need…my dad.”

He flinched, and I saw pity flash in his eyes, but he stayed silent as I went on. “And I need my mom. My uncle. Liz. My friend Sal.”

We stared at each other, both of us waiting for me to say it. But I was so afraid. Confronting the Harvest board of directors had been child’s play compared to this.

Then he said it for me. “And me? Do you need me?”

I couldn’t look at him, because I knew I couldn’t hide what I felt for him. I might as well have it tattooed on my face. I tucked my hands under my thighs, digging my nails into the denim of my jeans.

“What I feel for you is…” I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I wasn’t ready.

I thought of how he’d looked at me that first day we’d walked Toby together, of what I thought I’d seen in his eyes. How I’d been sure he’d wanted to kiss me, then wondered if I’d imagined it. How he’d said I could call him at three a.m., and he’d come running.

“Complicated,” I finally said, still not looking at him. “My feelings for you are…confused. You’re such a…a great friend.”

“Friend,” he repeated, his voice sounding grim.

I finally looked up. His jaw was clenched, his eyes slits. He turned away from me, reaching for the remote, but I put out a hand to stop him. As my hand rested on his, he shifted his body to face me again and I saw it.

All of it.

Everything I wanted to see. What I thought I’d never see from him. For me.

“Oh,” I whispered.

“Oh,” he echoed, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “Still confused?”

It was all there, waiting for me. All I had to do was claim it.

Claim him.

Or was it? The possibility I was imagining this was overwhelming, terrifying. I jumped up from the couch, hurrying toward the closet where he’d stashed my coat. I tore it off the hanger and tugged it on, then grabbed my messenger bag.

He stood up, crossing the small living room in just a few quick strides, just like a duke on a mission.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He sounded like a demanding duke, too.

“H-home,” I stammered. Because I’m a coward. Because I can’t handle what’s happening here. Or not happening. Whatever. I had to escape.

“It’s not safe,” he said, trying to block me as I moved toward the front door. “Let me drive you.”

I pulled the keys from my bag. “Let me go, Lucas. I’ll be fine.”

He stared down at me so intensely I half expected him to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder. But then something shifted. His shoulders dropped and he stepped back. “If this is what you want. To leave.”

We stared at each other. We both knew he was talking about more than me driving home by myself. I swallowed and reached for the doorknob. “Good night, Lucas.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes. “At least text me when you get home.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Please.”

“You said I’m a one-woman tornado. I’m sure I’ll make it there in one piece.”

He grimaced. “I never meant to hurt your feelings.” He stepped toward me. “If that’s why you’re leaving—”

“It’s not that.” I tugged on my fleece hat and my gloves. “Well, maybe a little. It’s… I just…” Some part of me knew I was crazy, walking away from what I wanted. But the rest of me knew it was a survival tactic. I couldn’t take one more punch to the heart.

He reached out, his finger trailing down my cheek, stopping under my chin. “I’m not going to stop you, Shaker Girl,” he said, his voice soft. “But I want you to remember something.”

“W-what?” How could I say actual words with him touching me?

“When we were tearing down boxes the other day?”

I nodded. He’d moved his hand, now tracing down my other cheek.

“I said most guys aim too low.” His lips curved into a sensual smile. “I want you to remember that I aim high.”

He dropped his hand from my face and opened the front door. Snow and wind swirled into the house, chasing away the warmth he’d just flooded me with.

“I’ll remember,” I managed to say, before I turned away and rushed down the steps to my truck.

I
texted Lucas once I was home. Mom was asleep on the couch as usual. Toby and I burrowed under my comforter, the light from my phone like a tiny flashlight in our blanket cave.

“I made it.”

His reply flew back instantly.
“Good.”

I hesitated, then sent another message.
“You never told me what you were doing tonight, while I was sleeping AKA babysitting.”

I watched the dots as he typed his reply.
“Helping out a neighbor.”

“Mr. Good Samaritan.”

“That’s me. Always at your service.”

Just one more reason I’d fallen so damn hard for him.

I closed my eyes. Wishing. Praying. Hoping.

That maybe, just maybe, I could trust what I’d seen. That he was falling for me, too.

And I promised myself that next time, I wouldn’t run away.

Chapter Twenty-One

Denver Daily News

November 21

The Secret Scoop from the Street

by “Crystal Ball”

Tyler Covington Spoils Harvest

While his wife and daughter live in seclusion in their country club mansion, refusing requests for interviews, Chief Operating Officer and acting President Jonathan James (J.J.) Briggs shoulders the burden of running the motivational speaking empire while its star is missing.

“It’s been rough,” J.J. says from his office on the fourteenth floor of the downtown headquarters of Tri!Umphant! Harvest Industries. His face is haggard. He needs a haircut. “Ty was the face of Harvest, but he was the brains, too. He guided the ship. Made all the decisions. I’m just picking up the pieces right now, hoping to satisfy our investors.”

Rumors have been flying on the internet about Covington’s disappearance, including speculation that he left the country with millions, abandoning his family and his business.

Someone must know where this guy is. I press J.J. for an answer. He runs his hands over his weary face. “I think his family might know something. But if they do know, they’re not telling anyone.” He shrugs. “They have a lot to lose if he doesn’t come back. We all do.”

Rumor has it the Harvest board of directors has frozen all accounts and assets of the Covington family and seized their home. I ask J.J. what will happen if Mr. Covington doesn’t return. He shakes his head. “Ty decided to diversify our investments some time ago. Harvest owns a lot of corporate real estate. But this isn’t a great time to have most of your assets in property, as you know.” J.J. sighs. “I tried to talk him out of it, but he was running the show.”

So if Ty doesn’t come back?

“The board will need to make some hard decisions,” J.J. told me. “We may need to liquidate most, if not all, of those assets to satisfy our investors. Without Ty here creating new motivational product…” J.J. is too overwhelmed to finish his thought and ends our interview.

It will be fascinating to watch this story play out. Tyler Covington has been a pillar in the local business and philanthropic communities. Everyone I spoke to had good things to say about him and expressed shock and disbelief that he would abandon his family and his business.

Coach Hook of the Broncos said, “We miss Ty. A lot of the guys leaned on him both on and off the field. We hope he comes back soon.”

Personally, I have known Tyler Covington for many years. He always struck me as intense and genuine. I hope he returns, but even if he does, it sounds like his Harvest will be ruined.

I
sat in Liz’s fairy cave, drinking tea and eating cookies. A copy of the newspaper’s gossip column rested on the table between Liz and me. Charlie leaned against the wall, stirring his coffee.

The article had blindsided me, deflating the tiny bit of hope and confidence I’d built up after the board meeting. It had devastated Mom.

“How’s your mom?” Charlie asked.

“Comatose.” I didn’t look at him.

“I don’t believe a word of that article. I think J.J.’s lying about Ty making the investment decisions.” Charlie’s voice was harsh.

I shrugged. “I don’t know what to think, Charlie. It doesn’t matter anyway. What matters is that everyone else will believe what they read.”

Charlie and Liz exchanged worried looks.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” Liz asked.

“Thanksgiving?” I blinked at them.

Liz shook her head at my cluelessness. “It’s next Thursday.”

Wow. Mom wasn’t acting like she usually did when a holiday loomed. She wasn’t in a baking frenzy. She hadn’t taken the silver out of the china cabinet for polishing. Mostly she was drinking herself to sleep every night.

“You’ll come to my house. You and your mom.” It was a command from my uncle, not a request.

“I don’t know…it’s probably best if we spend the day at home, just the two of us.”

“You need to be around people who care about you,” Liz said.

“Come at four. You don’t need to bring anything except your mom and Toby.” Charlie sounded just like Dad when he gave orders.

I shrugged and then nodded. It wasn’t like we were doing anything other than hiding in the mansion. And eating frozen pizza on Thanksgiving sounded awful.

Chapter Twenty-Two

November 22

T
hanksgiving dawned clear and cold. I spent the morning arguing with Mom about going to Charlie’s. She didn’t want to, but I did. I was desperate to get out of our house and be with people who made me feel wanted.

At three thirty, I emerged from my bedroom wearing a dress. I’d put on more makeup than usual and attempted to curl my hair, even though it fell right back to straight boringness. I added a couple of sparkling barrettes Sal had given me. I had to at least put forth some effort since I knew Mom wouldn’t.

“The train’s leaving the station,” I announced as I walked into Mom’s bedroom. She sat on the bed in her bra and underwear staring into space. “God, Mom. Can’t you even try?” I stomped to her closet and yanked out a dress. I tossed it to her. “Hurry up. We need to leave, like now.” I prodded her until she was fully dressed. I dug out jewelry from one of her many jewelry boxes. I made her sit at her vanity table while I brushed her hair.

“I don’t know why you’re going to all this trouble.”

I stared at her reflection in the mirror. “Because I care about Charlie. And Liz.”

Mom dropped her eyes. “It’s not like we have anything to be thankful for.”

I stopped brushing her hair. “That’s not true.”

“Name one thing,” she said.

“We have each other.”

She sighed and reached out to touch a perfume bottle. “That’s what people say when they’re desperate. When they’ve lost everything.”

Tears welled in my eyes. “But I mean it,” I said.

We didn’t speak as I drove us to Charlie’s. Her depression terrified me. I wanted to turn it off with a switch, but didn’t know how.

Charlie’s house wasn’t far from his store. It was small and tidy, with funky metal sculptures sticking out of dormant flowerbeds. The sculptures made me laugh, but Mom just frowned at them.

Lucas opened the door. I caught my breath when I saw him. I didn’t know he was invited. Things had been awkward between us since the night at his house. We acted like polite strangers. We didn’t tease each other anymore, and we hadn’t taken Toby on any walks together. I thought about him constantly, about what he’d said about aiming high, wondering if he meant me. God, I hoped so, but part of me still couldn’t believe it.

Mom glanced back and forth between us. He looked almost as good as he had on Homecoming night, though he wasn’t in a tux. But he had on nice pants, and a dress shirt and tie.

“Wow,” I said, recovering as well as I could. “You almost look like a grown-up.”

“So do you.” His eyes skimmed over me. “I didn’t think you owned any dresses.”

He held the door open for us. My arm brushed his, waking up every nerve in my body. I stepped away from him.

“Lucas, this is my mom, Marilyn.”

He put out his hand. “It’s great to meet you, Mrs. Covington. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Mom raised an eyebrow. “I can’t imagine you’ve heard anything good.”

“Mom.” I glared at her.
Way to go, Mom
. We hadn’t even sat down to eat yet.

A dark-haired man about Mom’s age joined us in the living room. As he stood next to Lucas I realized who he was.

“This is my dad, Alejandro,” Lucas said. “Dad, this is Darcy and her mom, Marilyn.”

Alejandro shook our hands. As I looked into his eyes, I noticed they danced with amusement, just like Lucas’s did when we kidded around.

“A pleasure,” Alejandro said. He offered his arm to Mom. “Should we go supervise the cooks in the kitchen?”

Mom surprised me by going with him, resurrecting some of her manners. Then Lucas and I were alone. I felt shy around him, almost as much as when he’d shown me his tattoo. Maybe it was the dress. And the tie. And getting caught dreaming about him.

“I didn’t know you’d be here today,” I said.

He tilted his head. “Would you have stayed home if you’d known?”

I blushed. “No, of course not. I just—”

“Darcy!” Pickles ran into the room at top speed, screeching to a stop in front of me. Her eyes were huge. “You look so pretty!” She turned to Lucas. “Doesn’t she?” She turned back to me. “Way prettier dan Heather.” She frowned. “I hate Heather.”

Lucas picked her up like she was a sack of flour and tossed her over his shoulder. “We all know how you feel about Heather,” he said, walking out of the room. “I think you can stop announcing it like the town crier.”

“I’m not a crier!” she protested as he tickled her.

I followed them into the kitchen, laughing, and grateful for Pickles’ interruption.

W
e spent the afternoon eating turkey and tofu. Charlie and Liz had cooked enough food to please the carnivores and the vegans. I watched Mom closely as she drank wine, but she stopped after two glasses. I sighed with relief when she switched to coffee. Maybe she didn’t really have a drinking problem. Maybe it was just the stress. Maybe if she spent more time with people like Charlie and Liz…

Jazz played on the stereo while Alejandro and Charlie bantered like old friends, which they obviously were. Liz turned her cosmic rays on full blast for Mom, who responded by relaxing and laughing in a way I hadn’t seen in forever. Lucas and I debated whether it was better to watch Studio Ghibli movies subtitled or dubbed. I’d missed arguing with him, joking with him. I’d missed him, period.

When none of us could eat any more, Pickles wormed her way onto my lap and played with my necklace, one of my own creations. Toby snored under the table, full of the scraps people had been sneaking him. No one mentioned Dad or the gossip column in the paper.

I wanted to freeze time at this table, with these people who’d become so important in my life. Mom had said we didn’t have anything to be grateful for, but the gratitude that swelled in my heart brought tears to my eyes.

Pickles stopped playing with my necklace when I reached up to brush a tear away.

“Why are you crying?” she whispered. She darted a suspicious look at Lucas, as if ready to blame him. He settled his gaze on me. My heart raced but I didn’t look away this time. There it was again
—
what I’d seen that night at his house, what I’d seen on our walk with Toby.

I finally broke eye contact to answer Pickles. “Did you ever cry because you were so happy it just sort of spilled out?”

She considered this seriously. “Maybe. When I got lost in the grocery store, then Lukie found me.” She patted my cheek with her chubby hand. “I love you, Darcy,” she whispered. “Don’t cry.”

I wiped another tear from my face and kissed her nose.

Lucas slid his chair away from the table and left the room. He returned a few minutes later with pie and dessert plates. “What kind of host forgets about dessert?” he teased Charlie.

Everyone laughed, and Pickles slid off my lap. Lucas cut the pie and Pickles delivered plates to each of us. Charlie raised his wine glass and cleared his throat. “I’d like to make a toast.” Everyone raised a glass and waited for him to speak. I was relieved that Mom held up a water goblet. Charlie turned his gaze to me. “To my niece,” he said.

Uh-oh.

“When Darcy walked into my store the first time, I remembered the little girl I’d known long ago. But now she’s an amazing young woman who’s brought so much heart to our little corner of Broadway.” He smiled, and I saw Dad looking back at me. “In spite of all she’s dealing with, she makes us laugh every day. She’s always there when we need her. She has a quiet strength that informs everything she does.” He paused and shot a grin at Liz. “Not to mention, now I get to have date nights since Darcy’s there to close up shop on the weekends.” He lifted his glass. “To Darcy!”

Everyone echoed his words. “To Darcy!”

Mom beamed at me, her eyes bright with tears. I didn’t dare look at Lucas. I’d heard him toast me along with everyone else, and that was enough.

“To family and friends, old and new,” Liz said.

They went on like that for ages, toasting and laughing.

Eventually Lucas started to clear the table. I stood up to help him.

“That’s why you need kids,” Alejandro said to Liz and Charlie. “To do the dirty work.”

Their laughter followed us into the kitchen. Lucas scraped the plate scraps into a trash can while I stacked glasses on the counter. Charlie’s kitchen was exactly as I’d imagined, complete with a dozen sets of salt and pepper shakers lining the windowsill over the sink.

“Are you glad you’re here today?” Lucas asked, turning from the sink. His sleeves were rolled up and his hands dripped with soapy water.

I nodded. “Very,” I said quietly.

“Me too,” he said. “I’ve missed you. Missed us.”

My body forgot how to breathe, and I couldn’t even draw enough air to agree.

He cleared his throat and turned away, drying his hands on a dishtowel. “Did Charlie embarrass you? With his toast?”

“Yeah.” My voice was croaky, but at least it worked. “His toast surprised me. But it was nice.”

“It was also true.”

I stared at my shoes, afraid to look at him. One minute we were joking and debating about books and movies, then the next thing I knew he said things that made me tongue-tied and breathless. Just when I thought I could relax around him, he put me off balance.

Pickles bounced into the kitchen. “Charlie says there’s more pie! A chocolate one. Daddy says I can have a piece.” She looked at her brother with pleading eyes. “Where is it?”

Lucas laughed as he ruffled her hair. “In the fridge.”

I yanked open the refrigerator to retrieve the pie box, grateful for the distraction.

“Let’s take it to the dining room, Pickles,” I said, sidestepping around Lucas. “I’m sure other people will want some, too.”

M
om yawned and stretched as we drove home. “That was wonderful, Darcy. Thank you for dragging me out.”

“They’re awesome people.”

“They are,” she agreed. “So…” She hesitated. “You and Lucas? Is there something going on I should know about?”

I squeezed the steering wheel. “We’re friends. That’s all.”
For now
.

“Hmm,” she said. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

“What do you mean?” Had my mom seen the way he looked at me? The way I looked at him?

She chuckled softly. “Nothing.” She patted my knee. “I owe you an apology. Earlier today you said we had each other to be thankful for. I said some things that weren’t kind. Or true.”

I glanced at her and then looked back at the road.

“Darcy.” Mom’s voice was soft. “You’ve grown up so fast…with all that’s happened. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” I whispered.

“Your dad would be, too.” She swallowed. “He will be, I mean. When he comes home.”

“I wonder what he’s doing tonight,” I said.

She shifted in her seat. “I wonder, too.” Her hand reached for mine and I took it, leaving one hand on the wheel.

We drove the rest of the way hands gripped together, each of us sending wishes and hopes to Dad, wherever he was.