How (Not) to Fall in Love (19 page)

I sighed and pulled my jacket tighter around me. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”

His finally raised his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Like a buddy movie gone really bad.”

That made me laugh for real. “Lucas?”

“Yeah?” He watched me, his expression wary.

“I don’t even know how to thank you. The places were great.”

“Not all of them,” he said. “But you’re welcome.”

“I loved Mrs. Sandri’s house. I want my mom to see it.”

His shoulders sagged. Was that relief? “I thought you’d like that one best.”

“See?” I blinked in the sun and smiled at him for real. “Maybe you do know me pretty well.”

He dropped his gaze again, but not before I saw something indefinable flicker there.

“I’ll take you home.” He fished his keychain out of his pocket, still not looking at me.

“No.”

“No?” He looked up, his eyes shooting angry sparks again.

“I’ll take the bus. You’ve spent enough of your day with me already. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

“Darcy. Don’t be a—”

“Don’t you dare call me a martyr.”

His eyes widened. “How’d you know I was going to say that?”

I tapped my head. “I’m psychic.”

He almost smiled. “Warn me next time. I’ll bring my tin foil hat.”

“Those never work. My wicked mind-reading skills penetrate right through that stuff.”

“You’re a mind reader, huh?” He swung his keychain around his finger, watching me through narrowed eyes. “Tell me what I’m thinking right now.”

I swallowed. There were so many things I hoped he was thinking. “You’re thinking you can’t wait to drop me off and go do guy stuff. Fix cars, watch ESPN. Watch a dude action movie instead of hanging out with a girl who watches sappy movies and reads awful books.”

He shook his head, his cryptic smile making my heart flutter. “You’re a lousy psychic. Not even close.”

“Food,” I said. “That should’ve been my first guess. You’re always hungry.”

“True, but that’s not what I’m thinking about right now.” He took a step toward me and suddenly this wasn’t a game anymore. “Guess again.” His voice was soft, like a caress reaching out to me even though his hands were in his pockets. “Tell me what I want.”

You want to kiss me. You’re going to kiss me. I see it in your eyes.
I wasn’t psychic, but I wasn’t blind, either. Oh. My. God.

“Crapuccino,” I croaked. “Extra dry.”

“Wrong,” he said, taking another step toward me. “Try again, Shaker Girl.” We stood inches apart, breathing in each other’s air.

The sharp ring of my cell sounded, making both of us jump and shattering the tension. Frustration shot through me as I pulled my phone out of my pocket and stared at the caller ID.

“It’s my mom. I need to answer.” Why oh why hadn’t I put it on silent?

“No worries,” Lucas said, stepping back. His gaze had lost its heat and intensity, and I missed it already. We started walking, and he hung back a few steps to give me privacy.

The raw pain of Mom’s sobs pushed away all my fantasies about Lucas. “Mom? What is it? Is it Dad?” Please, God. Don’t let him be dead.

Lucas caught up to me. I barely registered his hand on my shoulder.

“Not Dad, me. It’s me. Oh, Darcy, I’ve failed us,” her voice wailed in my ear.

I turned away from Lucas, afraid he’d hear her. “Mom, just tell me what happened.”

“Pam fired me today. She said I was…un(hic)reliable. And un(hic)professional. She said I looked like something the cat dragged in.”

I closed my eyes and sagged against Lucas, dimly aware of his arm encircling my shoulders. “Oh, Mom,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Where are you? When are you coming home?”

“I’m with Lucas. Looking at apartments, remember?” Oh no. How could we rent a place now, without any income? Oh my God. Don’t think about it. Just do the next thing…do the next thing. Breathe. “I’ll be home soon, Mom. I’m almost at the bus stop.”

“I’ll come get you,” she said, slurring her words.

“No, Mom. You’ve been drinking. You can’t drive.”

Lucas took the phone from my hand. “Mrs. Covington? This is Lucas. I’ll drive Darcy home. We’ll be there as soon as we can.” He paused. “Yes, ma’am. Good-bye.”

He handed the phone back to me then tightened his grip around my shoulders.

He put a finger on my lips. “Don’t argue. I’m driving you home.”

“But…but.” What could I say? That I didn’t want him to see my mom drunk? That I wanted him to see me as…not perfect, exactly, but maybe…acceptable?

That hardly mattered now.

L
ucas drove fast, but not so fast that I worried. “Should we bring food to your mom?” He hesitated. “If she’s drinking, she should eat.”

I leaned my head against the passenger side window, closing my eyes, relishing the feel of the cool glass on my skin. “We have leftover enchiladas. I made them last night. And some burned rice.”

“Sounds great. Is there enough for me, too?”

I opened my eyes to stare at him. “What?”

His eyebrows knotted. “I’m not going to just drop you off, Darcy. I’ll come in to help. Stay for a while.”

“You know what? You’re really taking this rescuing-the-damsel-in-distress role way too seriously. Stop reading my books.”

He shot me a hooded glance. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Be careful. You’re veering away from buddy-flick territory back toward mortal-enemies-locked-in-combat territory.”

“Maybe I’ll just be quiet.”

“Excellent choice.” He picked up his iPod and the sounds of one of my favorite indie bands filled the car.

“Maybe you’re the one who’s psychic,” I said, my eyes closing again as I rested against the window.

“How so?”

“This is my de-stress music. It chills me out.” I sighed, pulling my jacket tight around me. I wanted to stay in his car forever, eyes closed, music playing, just driving.

“It’s going to be okay, Darcy,” he said softly.

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re strong. You’ll get through this.”

I opened my eyes to watch his profile as he drove. “Tough girls always finish last.”

He glanced at me with that smile that turned me to jelly. “You’re watching the wrong movies.” He paused. “Maybe you should read more of your lame romances. Don’t they always have happy endings?”

“They do. But life doesn’t always tie up in a pretty bow at the end like it does in those books.”

He nodded. “Life’s messy,” he agreed. “But sometimes amazing things can happen, even when it seems like it’s all falling apart.”

He couldn’t possibly be talking about us. He was just trying to distract me from the nightmare that was my life. “Ah, Master Martinez,” I said. “You speak such words of wisdom. Grasshopper can only hope to learn from you.”

He shot me a dark look. “You should stop talking now.”

I wished he’d just kiss me to shut me up, like in the movies, but instead we kept driving in silence, while I prayed my mom wouldn’t be a total wreck by the time we got home.

Chapter Twenty-Four

M
om was lying on the couch when we walked in, surrounded by the clutter of our messy family room. I’d been meaning to clean it, but there just wasn’t time with school and work and starting to pack for the move. Besides, we never had company anymore so what was the point?

Lucas was gracious, as always. “Hello, Mrs. Covington. It’s good to see you again.”

She stared up at him, her eyes unfocused. Pam was right. She did look like something the cat had dragged in. It was amazing she hadn’t been fired sooner. I blinked back tears. I could
not
fall apart. Not in front of Lucas.

“Well, look who’s here.” Her words slurred as she tried to focus on me. “I knew there was something going on with you two.”

“Mom. Please.” I shot her a pleading look.

“Well, it’s true. Darcy never brings guys home, but I’m not surprised to see
you
.” She pointed a wobbly finger at Lucas.

I thought I would faint or hurl, or both. I hated how alcohol did this to her. I didn’t dare look at Lucas, who’d busied himself gathering up the dirty plates and glasses scattered over our coffee table. Toby danced around him, thrilled to see the dog whisperer. Lucas caught my eye as he walked toward the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” I mouthed, using every power in me to keep my tears at bay.

He shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry for,” he whispered.

Once he’d left the room, I tried to get Mom to sit up. “You’ve got to get to bed. You’re completely wasted.”

“Damn straight,” she said, her stinking breath blowing in my face. “I have every right to be. That damn Pam had no right to fire me. She knows how much I needed that job.”

“She’s running a business, Mom. Not a charity.” I couldn’t believe I was defending Fake-Bake Pam. I stood up, pulling Mom to her feet. She swayed and leaned into me. Suddenly Lucas was there, propping her up from the other side.

Our eyes met as we supported her. I wasn’t sure what I thought I’d see. Disgust maybe. But that wasn’t it. His eyes burned with all sorts of emotions, too many for me to untangle. I looked away.

“Upstairs, Mom. You need to sleep it off.”

She laughed bitterly, leaning most of her weight on Lucas. “Why? ’Cause everything will be perfec’ in the morning? Darcy thinks she’s gonna find her dad and drag him home. Thinks he’s gonna come riding in on a white horse with a bag full of money. Gonna stand on his stage and turn this pile of shit into a pile of gold.”

“Mom. Don’t.” I couldn’t stop the tears now. I shook with anger and fear.

“Darcy, go sit down,” Lucas said, adjusting Mom so that he bore all her weight. “I’ll get her upstairs.”

“Mine’s the biggest bedroom. Can’t miss it, kid.” Mom cackled like a crazy woman. “Ty always had to have the biggest everything. And look where it got him.”

I remembered Lucas telling me about Heather puking at the Homecoming dance. I prayed my mom wouldn’t complete my humiliation by doing that.

Lucas pinned me with his eyes again. “I’ve got her, Darcy. It’s okay.”

Tears streamed down my face as I watched them leave the room. It was a relief having someone else here, but it shouldn’t be Lucas helping her up the stairs. It should be Dad. But if Dad were here, none of this would be happening.

Toby hovered at my feet, tail wagging.

“Come on, boy. At least I can take care of you.” He followed me into the kitchen where I fed him. I loaded the dishwasher and cleaned off the counters. I heated the leftover enchiladas in the microwave, wondering if Lucas would be so appalled by my mom that he’d leave without eating.

“How often does that happen?” Lucas’s voice startled me from the doorway.

I spun around to face him. “What do you mean?”

He walked toward me slowly, watching me as if I were a trapped animal ready to flee. “How often do you come home to that? How often do you have to help her to bed?”

I focused on Toby, who’d rushed to Lucas as soon as he’d heard his voice.

“Darcy, look at me.”

That was the last thing I wanted to do, but he closed the gap between us and tilted my chin up. “Tell me how often you come home to this.”

“A lot,” I breathed. Tingles ran down my jaw to my neck from his touch. I couldn’t look away from him. “Especially lately.”

He let go of my chin and shoved his hands in his pockets. “She needs help, Darcy. So do you. You can’t do this by yourself.”

“I know,” I whispered. “I just keep hoping…”

“I don’t want to be the one who tells you to stop hoping. But you have to deal with what’s right in front of you.”

“But I
am
dealing with it.” Anger flashed through me. “I got us extra time to move. I set up the estate sale. I’m going to get us moved.” Tears pushed away the anger and I was crying again. “Once we’re out of here, maybe she’ll stop. When she’s not surrounded by all these…reminders…of what life isn’t anymore.”

His arms were around me before I could say anything else. “I know,” he whispered into my hair. “I know.”

I let myself be held. I’d imagined him holding me a million times, but not for this reason. He still felt amazing. The universe had a cruel sense of irony.

The microwave pinged. I was reluctant to step out of his grasp, but I did. “Dinner is served,” I said, grabbing a dishtowel to wipe away my tears. “Unless you want to blow this pop stand, which I’d totally understand.”

He looked surprised. “Do you want me to go? I thought you wouldn’t want to be alone.”

I focused on using hot pads to pull the casserole dish out of the microwave. “You’ve pretty much spent your whole day dealing with the Covington shit storm. I’m sure you have somewhere else to be on a Saturday night.”

“I chose to spend the day with you. And I’m choosing now to have dinner with you.”

I shrugged like it didn’t matter, but relief washed over me. I didn’t want to be alone. Having him stay was like having a net stretched under the tightrope of my screwed up life.

He found plates and silverware. “Do we eat under the scary chandelier?” He tilted his head toward the dining room.

“No.” That was the last place I wanted to sit. “We could watch a movie or something.” I forced a smile. “Something with lots of explosions.”

“Sure,” he said. “After we eat. I want to talk to you first.” He set the plates on the granite counter in front of the barstools.

Panic washed over me. I didn’t want a serious chat right now. Experiencing my reality was bad enough; we didn’t need to talk about it.

“What about that buddy-flick situation we discussed earlier?” I said, forcing a lightness I didn’t feel into my voice. “I’d rather we didn’t end up in another fight.”

“Not my first choice, either. But we’re still going to talk.”

A huge sigh gushed out of me. “Sometimes I wish I did drink. Now would be a good time.”

He frowned at me. “You don’t really mean that.”

I slid onto the stool next to him, hyper-aware of his closeness. “No, I don’t.” I took a long gulp of water. “How about a smoke instead?”

He almost choked on his water. Once he’d swallowed, he shook his head at me. “You’re not very observant. I quit smoking weeks ago.”

Huh. He was right; I hadn’t noticed. In my mind, he was often leaning against the old brick wall of Charlie’s store, smoking and talking to whoever wandered by. The thought flitted through my mind that he wouldn’t taste like an ashtray. If a person were to kiss him. Not that I’d ever know.

“That’s good,” I said. “One less cancer to worry about when you’re old and gray.”

He narrowed his eyes. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can watch your buddy flick.”

Inhale calm. Exhale stress. “Explosions and car crashes. No buddy flicks tonight. But by all means, let the lecture begin.”

He closed his eyes briefly, frustration etching his perfect face. “I don’t want to lecture you. I just had a suggestion. Maybe a couple of them.”

“Can I ask you something, Lucas?”

He sighed. “Go ahead. I knew you couldn’t just sit there and listen.”

I pointed my fork at him. “I could if I wanted. But what I’m wondering is, are you one of those guys who needs to feel like they’re Lancelot coming to the rescue all the time? Like on the daytime TV shrink shows? Those guys who pick women who…” My voice trailed away as I realized I’d just implied he was my knight. And that he’d picked me as his lady to rescue. My cheeks flamed.

His lips compressed into a thin line. I couldn’t tell if he was biting back a laugh or an argument.

“I didn’t mean that you and me… What I meant was…” Oh God. Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut? Someone needed to shove me back into my mousy Darcy shell.

“Please keep talking,” Lucas said, his eyes fixed on mine. “I can’t wait to hear more.”

I shook my head and took a huge gulp of water so I wouldn’t be tempted to keep babbling and make things worse.

He put his hands on his legs and shook his head, laughing a little. “You’re a piece of work, Darcy Covington.”

I stayed quiet, staring at my plate but sneaking glances at his denim-clad thighs.

“No, I’m not one of those guys,” he said, sighing. “I’d never get anything done if I rescued everyone who needed it.” He paused to drink a sip of water, then turned to face me. I heard him take a deep breath. “But I do like to help people I care about.” He reached out to cup my chin, raising my face to look at him. “That’s why I’m here with you right now.” His hand moved to brush a loose hair behind my ear, then came to rest on my shoulder. I stopped breathing, staring into his beautiful eyes, wondering if my brain would ever form a coherent thought again.

“This isn’t how I planned to tell you how I feel,” he said softly. His hand drifted slowly down my arm, lighting a trail of fireworks on my skin. His strong fingers laced through mine, and his thumb drew slow circles on my palm, making me glad I was already sitting, since I might have lost my balance otherwise. “But I’m so tired of waiting.” He took a breath, then dropped his eyes, looking at our entwined hands.

I knew I should say something. Anything. But I was afraid that if I even breathed too loudly, the spell would break and he’d disappear in a puff of smoke.

He raised his eyes to mine, and his lips twitched. “Are you actually speechless, for once?”

I blinked at him. Two blinks for yes.

His smile was slow, and sexy. “Come on, say something. Tell me more about the TV shrink’s bullshit theories about rescuing people and falling in love.” He paused and took a deep breath. “But I have my own theory about that, if you want to hear it.”

I stared at him, still afraid to breathe, to move. If this was a dream, I didn’t want to wake up.

His grin faltered. “You have to say something, Darcy. Because I think… I hope…you feel about me the way I feel about you.” He looked at me from under his ridiculous eyelashes. “But I-I’m not sure.”

I was stunned when I heard the nervousness in his voice. I breathed out slowly, finally finding my voice. “You aren’t sure how I feel about you?”

He shrugged and ran his free hand through his long, dark hair. “Sometimes. But then you pull away. Like that night at my house.” He sighed. “I know my timing sucks. You’re dealing with so much crap right now. I was going to wait until you moved.” He ducked his head, looking even less sure of himself. “I had a whole evening planned.” This time his smile was shy and sweet, and it took my breath away even more than his usual sexy grin did. “I was hoping to sweep you off your feet. Like those guys in your stupid books.” His neck reddened. His Royal Hotness was blushing. Big time.

I couldn’t believe I impacted him this way. Me, queen of the mice. I wanted to freeze time so I could come back to this exact moment whenever I thought I didn’t have the strength to keep going. I took a deep breath. “You already did,” I whispered.

The look he gave me made my heart do cartwheels. He slid off his stool and pulled me into his arms. Maybe I wasn’t psychic, but I felt like I was reading his mind, and he was reading mine, confirming all the feelings I’d been hiding from him.

“Just to be sure,” I said, my voice shaky as I wrapped my arms around his waist, “this isn’t like a pity thing? No Lancelot complex?”

His lips grazed my forehead. “Not even close.” He pulled me closer. “You said I never noticed you, when Heather was around.” His fingers moved through my hair, sending shivers up my spine. “I always noticed you, Darcy. Always.” One hand stayed in my hair, the other moved down my back, stopping just above my waist, the warmth of his hand burning through my sweater.

“Heather was like a carnival. Loud. Crazy. Too much. I never cared about her…like that.” He moved his hand, letting his fingers drift underneath my sweater, the warmth of his hand on my back setting my skin on fire. “With you, it’s… I don’t even know how to say it. It’s like you’re a work of art. Every time I’m with you, I see something new. Something beautiful.”

My head rested against his chest, and I felt his racing heart. I had to say something, if only I could rouse my vocal cords from their swoon. I cleared my throat. “You’re, um, not so bad yourself.”

He laughed, the rumble in his chest vibrating against me. “And you always make me laugh. No matter what kind of crap’s going on in your life.” He leaned back slightly to look down at me. “I don’t know if you’re ready to hear this, but I need to say it.”

He took a breath and my heart beat so loudly I was sure he must hear it. His fingers stroked my back and I suddenly knew why fainting couches had been invented. His gaze roamed over my face, and I suddenly believed him. He saw me, the real me. And he thought I was beautiful. The realization was so powerful, so true, that I gasped.

He nodded as if he’d read my mind. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low, caressing. “I love you, Shaker Girl. I love the way you do what scares you. I love that nothing stops you. I love that you care so passionately about everyone.” He grinned at me. “I love how goofy you get about salt and pepper shakers. I love how you can’t control Toby.” His grin faded as he took a shaky breath. “That first day I picked you up…” He sighed. “I thought you were just a spoiled rich girl.” His expression changed, surprising me with its fierce intensity. “I had no idea how wrong I was. Or how much my life was about to change.” He rested his forehead against mine. “I’m so sorry about all you’re going through, but I’m not sorry that it brought you to me.”