He shifted on the couch, clearing his throat. “You were dreaming about me?”
I peeked out from under my eyelashes. “Um, maybe? I don’t really remember.” I threw the blanket off my burning body. “I should go.”
He leaned over and grabbed something from the floor. “I think you dropped this.” A smile played at his lips as he looked at my book cover.
Perfect. Because I hadn’t embarrassed myself enough talking to him in my sleep. I reached out to snatch the book from his hands.
He smirked at me. “Good book?” His body still had me penned in, whether I liked it or not. Of course I liked it, while simultaneously hating that I couldn’t just get the heck out of there.
“What time is it?” I looked around the room for a clock but didn’t see one.
“A little after midnight.” He raised an eyebrow. “You going to turn into a pumpkin?”
“It would be my truck that would turn into a pumpkin.” I tried to look exasperated at his fairy tale ignorance, but it was impossible, not with his eyes smiling at me.
“Right.” He grinned. “And what happens to Cinderella?”
“Her fancy ball gown turns back into rags.” That had almost happened, when I woke up. I was in my jeans and fleece shirt, not the gorgeous gown I’d worn in my dream.
His eyes skimmed down my body, then came back to rest on my face. “I wouldn’t say rags,” he said, his voice husky.
I sat up, trying to pull my legs up next to me. He moved just enough so I could do that, but apparently he wasn’t going anywhere.
“It’s snowing pretty hard,” he said. “I’m not sure you should drive, especially with those tires. I checked them out; they’re almost bald.” He frowned at me. “You should get snow tires.”
“Tires can go bald? Do they get beer bellies, too?” I attempted to joke rather than focus on the fact that he was being all…protective, or whatever it was he was doing.
He shook his head but I saw laughter in his eyes. “How about I drive you home? After my dad gets home? You can get your truck next time you’re working.”
I fiddled with the afghan fringe and thought of what Sal said about this being an undate. Right now everything felt “un.” Uncomfortable. Un-relaxed. Un-normal.
“You did me a favor, staying here with Pickles. It’s the least I can do.” He stood up suddenly. “You hungry? I am.” Then he walked out of the room before I could answer. What was up with him tonight?
I checked my phone to see if Mom had texted. Nothing. I shoved my feet back in my shoes and went to peer out the front window. Snow whirled under the streetlights and trees bowed under howling gusts of wind.
Lucas came back into the living room with two soda cans and a bowl full of chips. He set everything down on the coffee table then plopped on the couch. In the corner where I’d been sleeping. I knew it was his corner. I bit back a smile, looking out the window again.
“Come sit down,” Lucas said, snapping open his soda can. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV. When I didn’t move, he tilted his chin at me. “I’m not going to turn into a rat, like in Cinderella.”
I rolled my eyes and moved to the couch, sitting next to him but putting lots of space between us. “The mice turn into horses, not guys.” I shook my head in fake disgust.
“Somebody turns into the driver. Was it the dog?” He grinned. “I guess that’s me, since I’ll be driving you home tonight. Unless Toby knows how to drive and can come get you.”
Was this the part where we went from undate to date? I had no idea what was happening. I took a handful of chips. “I don’t need you to drive me home. I’ll just drive slow.”
“Nope,” he said, keeping his eyes on the explosions on the screen.
My back stiffened. “You’re not the boss of me, Lucas.”
He turned toward me, laughing. “You’ve been spending too much time with Pickles.”
“Whatever.” I knew I was blushing. “You know what I mean. You can’t make me do something. Or not do something.”
“I’ve figured that much out,” he said, glancing toward a screen explosion, and then back at me. “You’re almost as stubborn as my sister.” He took a bite from a chip, chewing slowly, watching me.
“Almost?” I tried to look threatening, which just made him grin.
“Stubborn works for you,” he said, pausing to drink from his soda. “It’s how you get what you want. Setting up the estate sale, getting more time to move.” He muted the TV, turning to face me on the couch. “You don’t need a fairy godmother.” He ran a hand through his hair, a frown furrowing his forehead. “Sometimes I wonder if you need anybody. You’re like a one-woman tornado, knocking down everything that gets in your way.”
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 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
Thanksgiving 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.
How (Not) to Fall in Love Page 17
