How (Not) to Fall in Love (18 page)

“It’s pretty cool, isn’t it?” Lucas asked.

I nodded, still unable to look at him after the misidentification. His voice echoed in my mind.
“She’s not my girlfriend.”

The living room was small, but there was a fireplace in one corner. Looking through the archway, I saw a tiny dining room with a non-scary chandelier. I heard cups clinking and guessed the kitchen was beyond the dining room. I followed the narrow hallway off the living room and found two bedrooms, both decorated with ruffles and flower-printed fabric. There was a bathroom between them. It was small, but not as small as the one in Pinky’s apartment. The house reminded me of Liz and her fairy cave.

Returning to the living room, I found Mrs. Sandri settled in a wing chair by the fireplace. Lucas sat on a small sofa across from her, drinking from a teacup. The delicate china balanced in his strong hand made me suddenly imagine him dressed in breeches, sitting in a drawing room, waiting to call on his lady. God, I was deranged.

I took a breath and sat next to him. The couch was so small that our thighs touched. The contact felt like fire shooting up my leg. I scooted over, leaving a few inches between us, and reached for my cup. Too bad it wasn’t iced tea so I could dunk it over my head to cool my burning face.

“So tell me, honey, do you think my little house might work for you and your mom?” Mrs. Sandri smiled at me.

“It’s a lovely house. But don’t you live here?”

She sighed and shook her head. “Not for much longer. I’m moving to a home for seniors next week. That’s why almost all the furniture is gone.” She took a sip from her teacup. “The house is just too much for me to keep up on my own, even with Lucas doing the yard work for me and fixing everything that breaks.” She winked at him. “He even came by late one snowy night when my washing machine overflowed and flooded the laundry room.”

I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow, remembering his text the night I’d babysat
. Helping out a neighbor.

He mirrored my eyebrow lift, then focused again on his teacup. But he was smiling.

“I don’t want to sell it just yet,” she continued. “And my sons don’t want me to, either. So we’re hoping to find some good people to rent it out. At least a year, maybe longer. Someone steady and responsible, which Lucas assures me you are. He speaks quite highly of you. Tells me you’re in quite a pickle with your dad on the run. And all that nasty business about him on the news.” She shook her head and clucked her tongue. “And your mama working so hard she doesn’t even have time to come look at places with you. You poor dear.”

I shot him a look. He was still fascinated by his teacup.

“And of course I adore your uncle; known him forever. So if you think you’re interested you’d be at the top of my list. Though I would need to meet your mother, of course, since she’d be the one to sign the lease.”

I set my cup on the table with a shaking hand. “Yes, of course. Mom would need to see the place first.” I shot Lucas another look. “And we have a few other places to look at, don’t we, Lucas?”

He set his cup on the table next to mine. “Yes, we do. Mrs. Sandri, may I use your bathroom please?”

“Of course, dear. You know where it is.”

After Lucas left the room, she turned toward me with a conspiratorial smile. “Honey, I’m sorry I mistook you for his girlfriend. But I just assumed, because I know he has a girl. Of course he does, a handsome, sweet boy like that. And when he came around asking about the house, the way he talked about you and your situation… He just seemed so worked up that naturally I assumed…”

Worked up?

“It’s okay, Mrs. Sandri.” Something about her chatty concern made me feel I should reassure her. “Trust me, if you saw the type of girl Lucas dates you’d know why it was so, um, funny you thought I was his girlfriend.” I swallowed as I forced a smile, because it wasn’t really funny.

She frowned at me. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

I sighed, then gave voice to all my insecurities, the ones that drowned out the memory of the night at his house. “You should have met his last girlfriend. She looks like a supermodel. The two of them were like a perfect matched set. Trust me, when she was in the room, Lucas didn’t even know I existed.” I took an unladylike gulp of tea. “Anyway, Lucas and I are just friends.”

“Friends who need to get to their next appointment,” Lucas said from the hallway.

I looked up, horrified. How long had he been standing there? His eyes seemed to bore into my very soul. I dropped my gaze, wishing once again that I hadn’t used my outside voice.

I jumped up from the couch. “I’ll take the cups to the kitchen.” Lucas’s eyes followed me like I was his prey and he was about to pounce. I could feel his anger all the way into the kitchen. Why was he angry, anyway? I was just speaking the truth about him and Heather.

Damn it. This was going to make things awkward again. I could have apartment-shopped on my own, but it was hard enough that we were moving. Doing this part with Lucas made it much more bearable.

“Please don’t get up,” Lucas was saying to Mrs. Sandri when I returned to the living room. “We’ll let ourselves out.”

I took a breath. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Sandri. You have such a lovely home. I’m sure my mom will like it. I’ll be in touch with you soon.”

“You have my number?”

“I’ll give it to her,” Lucas said, smiling through gritted teeth.

As soon as we were on the sidewalk, Lucas took my elbow. “What the hell was that?”

I shook my arm loose from his grip. “Don’t grab me like that. What was what?”

“You’re way too smart to play dumb with me, Darcy. Knock it off. You know damn well what I mean.” His beautiful eyes were practically shooting sparks.

“The perfection part? About you and Heather looking like you belonged on top of a wedding cake?” If I was going down, I might as well do it in a blaze of glory.

He closed his eyes and his nostrils actually flared. Then his eyes snapped open and pinned me with a fierce gaze. “Not that, but yeah, that was idiotic, too. I meant the other thing you said. About me being so…so distracted by Heather that I didn’t notice anyone else if she was around.”

I spoke quickly, determined to figure out once and for all what he felt for me. “You can’t deny it, Lucas. When she was around, the aliens could’ve landed and taken all of Broadway hostage and you never would’ve noticed.”

He glared at me, his lips drawn in a thin straight line. His intensity made my stomach flutter. “Okay, so maybe you’d have noticed if the aliens took Pickles. Maybe.” I waited for him to crack even the tiniest smile, but he didn’t.

Instead, he stalked down the sidewalk. I hurried to catch up with him. At least we’d changed the subject. Painfully so, but at least we weren’t talking about the utter humiliation of him overhearing me go on and on about how perfect he was. And how invisible I was.

And he hadn’t denied what I’d said, about not noticing anyone else when Heather was around. Maybe I really had misinterpreted everything, like what he meant when he said he aimed high. Maybe he didn’t mean me at all.

“Let’s just get this over with, Lucas. How many more places do we have to look at?”

He stopped and pinned me with the spark-shooting glare again. “So you want to leave? I’m so full of my…perfection…that I’m a pain in the ass to spend time with?”

I felt like he’d sucker-punched me. How had things gotten this twisted around? One minute we were practically best friends and the next minute we were fighting like alley cats.

“God, you’re so—” He ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m so what, Lucas? So annoying? So clueless? A one-woman tornado of craziness? Quick, pick one before you lose a turn.”

“Stop it,” he said, his voice low.

“Stop what?”

“Stop doing that. Getting snarky. You do it when you’re upset.”

I gaped at him. He had no idea how snarky I could be. I narrowed my eyes. “Come on, Lucas. You know you’re only doing this to win points with Charlie. You don’t really care where my mom and I end up.”

The words hung there between us, like the slow-motion bullets in an action movie. But no one was dodging these bullets, and I wanted desperately to snatch them back. His hands clenched into fists. I had the feeling that if I were a guy I’d be lying on the grass, writhing in pain. That sounded preferable to enduring his frozen stare.

He spat out his next words. “If we actually are
friends
, Darcy, then guess what? I’m going to be honest with you.” He laughed, but it was bitter. “You’ve already been honest about your opinion of me.” He paused. “When I picked you up this morning, I didn’t think we’d end up fighting. I was hoping maybe—” He stopped and ran a hand through his hair. He blew out a frustrated breath, then his eyes latched onto mine. “I was stupid enough to think we’d hang out like we always do. Maybe even have fun, while you’re trying to figure out what to do next.” He looked away from me, his jaw tight. “God only knows where I got that crazy idea.”

My eyes filled with tears. If this
were
a romance novel, this was when he’d sweep me into his arms and kiss me passionately, telling me he loved me.

But this was real life. This was the twenty-first century, not the nineteenth. Hip hop music blared from the house across the street. Little boys played basketball in the driveway next door. Mrs. Sandri peeked out the front window, watching us argue. Across town, my mom sat in some dingy, abandoned house hoping someone would make an offer so she could redeem herself in Pam’s eyes.

I’d insulted Lucas with a cruel, untrue accusation, so now he was lashing out at me.

I turned away so he wouldn’t see my tears because he was the kind of guy who’d feel terrible if he made a girl cry, even if he was supremely pissed off with her. Even if she’d hurt him first.

His hands gripped my shoulders and whirled me around to face him. His eyes darkened, hiding emotions I couldn’t pin down. Muscles twitched in his jaw.

“We’re going to finish this,” he said, glowering at me.

“Finish what?” I could hardly speak, hardly breathe.

His hands fell off my shoulders and he stepped away from me. “We are going to finish looking at places for you to live. Today. So that you can decide and bring your mom back to the place you like best. Follow me,” he commanded. His Royal Hotness was channeling his inner duke again, barking orders. All he needed was a whip and some hunting dogs yapping at his heels. We walked six blocks without speaking to each other, and then he stopped suddenly in front of a duplex.

“This one is only $550 a month. It has two bathrooms.” He spoke to me like I was a stranger, breaking my heart. Lucas poured on the charm for the guy who opened the door, but none of it spilled over onto me. I went through the motions with perfect politeness, but my mind was reeling.

How much time had Lucas spent trying to find me a place to live? And those signs he’d put up, that he’d joked about? He was freaking amazing. And I was acting like a brat. Like the spoiled rich kid he’d thought I was the first day I met him. What was wrong with me?

I shook the duplex owner’s hand when we left, not even remembering his name.

“What’d you think about that place?” Lucas asked, his voice carefully neutral.

We were like two bombs wired to explode at the slightest expression of emotion.

“It was fine.” Truthfully, I couldn’t remember a thing about it. I’d been too distracted by my thoughts, by my regret at lashing out at him.

“Did you like it better than Mrs. Sandri’s house?”

“What? No. I mean, I like that place the best so far. How many more places?” Desperation leeched into my voice.

“Just one.”

“Good.”

He sighed next to me as we walked to the last place.

We stopped in front of an apartment house. It was small, only four stories high. The building formed a U-shape and each apartment had a balcony overlooking the swimming pool below.

“Some people really like pools,” Lucas said. “I wasn’t sure if you and your mom did.” He sighed again. “Then I saw the pool in your backyard today. I know this doesn’t quite measure up.”

My eyes swam with tears again. “Please don’t,” I whispered. “Please stop.”

“What is it?” He stepped in front of me. He blocked out the sun. “You’re crying.” He looked down at me, his expression stormy.

“No shit, Sherlock,” I said, wiping my eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s not contagious.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Do you want to skip this place?”

I nodded.

“If I was one of those guys from those damned books you read,” he mumbled, “I’d have a monogrammed handkerchief in my pocket. But I don’t.”

I laughed shakily as I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, picturing the HRH monogram on his imaginary handkerchief. “So are you secretly reading regency romances, Lucas? Is that why I can’t find the stack I saved at Charlie’s?”

His eyes widened, but then he dropped his gaze and I would’ve sworn I saw the hint of a blush creep up his neck.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” I had to choke back a giggle at the mental picture of him reading about rogues and wallflowers. “I have lots more I can lend you—”

He shrugged, running a hand along the back of his neck. “Okay, so I read one. It was awful.”

“Then you picked a bad one. Next time I’ll pick for you.” I thought of some of the books I could lend him, especially some of the sexier ones, and it was my turn to blush.

“No thanks,” he said. “I’ll stick to my textbooks. I don’t have much time for other reading, anyway.”

I pictured the comic books on his desk and smiled. I felt awful about lashing out at him, especially after all he was doing for me. I took a breath. “I’m sorry, Lucas. For saying that you don’t care what happens to me or my mom.” I glanced at him. “Because I know you do.”

His jaw clenched and he looked away.

“Lucas?”

Sighing, he stared at the ground. “I’m sorry, too. For getting upset about what you said about Heather and me. But it’s not true…” He ran a hand through his hair.

“What’s not true?”

He still wouldn’t look at me. “Never mind.”