How (Not) to Fall in Love

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  “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.”

  What could I possibly say in response? Dude, I love your eyelashes?

  I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, but a tiny part of me was afraid to jinx things, by telling him how I felt. Besides, he’d said enough for both of us.

  “Lucas?”

  “Mm?” he murmured, his lips inches from mine. One hand still stroked my back, the other still played with my hair.

  “Is this the part where you kiss me?”

  “Right,” he chuckled, just before his mouth claimed mine. “Like I’d forget that part.”

  He kissed me gently at first, waiting to see how I responded. I reached up to run my fingers through his hair and it was even better than I’d imagined. His grip tightened around me and I felt the muscles in his arms flex as he deepened the kiss, his lips hungry against mine.

  I tugged at his hair, pressing into him. He groaned deep in his throat and his tongue swept into my mouth, making my world tilt. Then both of his hands were underneath my sweater, his callused hands on my smooth back, making me melt against him, caressing yet insistent as his tongue plunged even deeper, making me stagger against the bar counter.

  He broke the kiss and whispered in my ear, “Just so you’re clear, that wasn’t a pity kiss.”

  I swallowed, struggling to find my voice. “I don’t know. I might still need some convincing.”

  He laughed softly against my hair. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  And he did.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  November 30

  Lucas spent the night.

  But not with me.

  He slept on the couch in the family room, after the two of us spent a couple of hours on the couch not watching the buddy movie he insisted on putting in the DVD player.

  When the sunlight woke me, happiness washed over me like a river. I could hardly believe last night had happened, but when I looked out my bedroom window, his car was in the driveway.

  I showered quickly and took more time getting dressed than usual. When I sat at my vanity and l
ooked in the mirror, I grinned. Maybe I wasn’t a supermodel, but Lucas said he loved me. And he’d somehow managed to fall in love with me during the worst time of my life.

  “But that’s why,” I whispered. Because somehow, all of this drama had made me blossom into someone I didn’t know I could be. I looked at the pepper shakers scattered across my dresser. It was because of them that I’d found Lucas. And Charlie and Liz. That I’d found a way to cope with everything.

  Suddenly I remembered Mom passed out in her bedroom. My happy bubble popped instantly. Crap. What was going to happen with her today? Now that she didn’t have a job, what would happen to us?

  I so badly wanted to rent Mrs. Sandri’s house and move, the sooner the better. The reporters wouldn’t be able to find us anymore. We’d be away from the country club witches who didn’t speak to Mom. I’d be where I now felt at home. I hoped Mom would eventually feel that way, too, about our new neighborhood.

  I peeked in on Mom, who snored loudly. She wasn’t getting up anytime soon. I tiptoed in and checked the room for puke. Nada. That was a relief.

  Downstairs, Lucas was already awake making us espressos. My heart swelled, seeing him shirtless and barefoot at the counter, yawning as he looked out the window. He’d fed Toby, too.

  “Are you sure you can work that contraption? She’s a beast.”

  He turned around, looking so sexy with his messy bed head that I thought I might melt. “Hey, Shaker Girl. Sleep well?”

  I nodded. I loved the way he looked at me.

  “Good. I’m glad one of us did.” He glared at Toby accusingly. “Your dog insisted on sleeping on the couch with me. He slept great but I didn’t.”

  “The hazards of being a dog whisperer,” I said. “Plus, I’m not so sure he’s my dog anymore. He seems to have transferred his allegiances.”

  “He was easy to win over.” He gave me his sexiest smile. “His owner took a while longer to convince.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I’m a much better actress than I realized. You had me at hello.”

  He groaned. “Is that another old movie reference?”

  I grinned wickedly. “You watch too many action movies. With not enough kissing.”

  He pointed at me. “And you need to watch movies from the twenty-first century. There’s this thing called Netflix. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

  I clucked my tongue. “And here I thought you were a romantic.”

  “Oh I am,” he said. “I can prove it.” He shot me a sexy smile. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

  So I did.

  Long after the espressos were cold, we sat down to eat generic cereal. Lucas frowned after he took a bite. “You need to buy the good stuff.”

  “We’re on a budget, cereal snob.”

  “You gotta watch for the sales. Pickles is great at that. She’s in charge of cereal choices, but she can’t spend more than three bucks a box.”

  I laughed. “I’ll take her shopping with me sometime.”

  He sighed. “That reminds me. It’s going to suck having a four-year-old gloat about my love life. She’s been wanting us to get together since that day she spilled all the beads at Liz’s.”

  I ducked my head. “She has excellent taste.”

  He took a bite of cereal and nodded. “Except for the Firestorm Fairies.”

  “You have a lot to learn, Grasshopper. We’ll start with season one, Fire Force Revealed.”

  “It can’t be any worse than the ancient stuff you watch.”

  I threw my napkin at him.

  He slid off the barstool. “Come on,” he said, reaching for my hand. “We have to finish our conversation.” He pulled me into the family room and we plopped on the couch. He pulled on his shirt, which was probably a good thing, if he wanted me to focus. I waited while he tugged on his shoes.

  “Last night, before we got…distracted…I told you I had a few suggestions.”

  I opened my mouth and he put a finger on my lips. “Please. Just this once. Listen.”

  My lips closed and he dropped his hand.

  “Okay, so, it’s none of my business, yet it is. Especially now.” His eyes locked on me, brimming with emotion. “I think Mrs. Sandri’s house would be perfect for you and your mom. But now your mom doesn’t have a job.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that, too,” I whispered, blinking back tears.

  “I’m sure the estate sale will pull in a decent amount of cash. But you need to put down a deposit and first month’s rent now.” He took a breath. “Don’t you dare accuse me of rescuing you. It would be a loan. You’d pay me back when you could.”

  “No—” I began, but he put up his hand.

  His eyes pleaded with me. “God, Darcy. It’s not like you’re stealing from me. And I mean it about being a loan. Because I know that’s the only way you’ll accept help.”

  A few traitorous tears escaped. Lucas reached over to wipe them away with his thumb, his touch making me shiver.

  “I’ve got to get to class, then I’m due at Charlie’s at two. Are you working after school today?”

  “No, but I need to come by for more boxes.”

  Lucas nodded. “Good. You need to bring your mom so she can sign the lease. I’ll arrange to meet Mrs. Sandri. How about four at her house?”

  “Lucas. You’re so incredibly…” There weren’t enough superlatives for me to say what was in my heart.

  “Zip it.” He grinned at me. “You had me at hello.”

  We stared at each other, then he stood up suddenly. “I can’t stay here, or else I’ll start kissing you again and I’ll never make it to class.” He put out his hands and pulled me to my feet. “One last thing, Darcy.” He paused and ran a hand through his hair.

  “I know what you’re going to say. About my mom and her drinking. She needs help.” He looked relieved that I’d said it and he didn’t have to. I stared at his shoes as I spoke. “I just haven’t been able to confront her yet.” But last night was the last straw. I had to talk to her. Maybe losing her job would make her face the truth.

  Lucas tilted my chin so I was looking at him. “Do you want me here when you talk to her? Or maybe Charlie?”

  I shook my head. “It’s really between her and me.” I put my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. “But thank you.”

  His jaw twitched as he covered my hand with his. I felt his heart speed up. “I’ll see you later today. Text me if you can’t make the four o’clock.”

  “Okay,” I whispered. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “That one doesn’t count. Now get out of here.”

  “Your wish is my command, Shaker Girl.”

  After he drove away, I dragged Toby back into the house. He’d chased Lucas’s car halfway down the driveway.

  I knew just how Toby felt.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I carried a steaming mug of coffee into Mom’s bedroom and perched on the bed, rubbing her back. She mumbled and rolled away from me, pulling the covers up to her neck.

  “Mom,” I spoke quietly. “It’s time to wake up.”

  She mumbled again. I set the mug on the nightstand and pulled the covers back. She rolled over and glared at me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Her face was smeared with makeup. Her hair hadn’t been washed in forever.

  “I’m waking you up. In more ways than one.”

  She hoisted herself onto her elbows, glaring at me. “You’re not in charge, Darcy.”

  I almost laughed. “Actually, I kind of am. Have been for some time now. So I’m telling you to get up. We have a lot to do today. We have boxes to pack. A lease to sign.”

  Her mouth opened and shut like a ventriloquist’s dummy.

  “This isn’t you, Mom.” My hand swept around the room, which was a disaster zone of piles of clothes and unwashed plates. She fell back against the pillows. I picked up her hand and held it tight. “You’re still in there, my perfect mom. The one who do
esn’t get drunk and drop the f-bomb. The one who never leaves the house without looking like a glamour photo.” I smiled down at her. “Actually, it’s okay if you tone that down. We can’t afford the tanning salon and hair maintenance anymore. But you could at least take a shower.” I pushed the limp hair out of her eyes. “I’ve been doing your laundry, but you keep wearing the same stuff over and over.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek, and into her ear, but she didn’t say anything.

  “It sucks that you got fired, but you needed to get free of Pam. I know you can find a better job. I believe it, even if you don’t.” I put my hand on her heart. “But most of all, I need my mom back. Because I’ve been trying to do it all by myself.” My voice caught. “And I can’t…can’t keep doing it. I need you, Mom. So much.”

  Her eyes closed and tears streamed down her face. I lay down beside her and held her hand in mine as we breathed together.

  Inhaled. Exhaled. Just breathed.

  Mom called school, excusing me to leave at noon because she wanted me to go with her to a recovery meeting. I was nervous, but proud of her. I stood at my locker, which was a disaster, not organized the way it used to be. Somehow I’d hardly noticed its disintegration. I guess it reflected my state of mind. Or it used to, anyway. But today my mind was clear, focused. Hopeful.

  I knelt on the floor, digging through the mess, pulling out papers to be recycled or filed. Shoved in a corner, I found a typed list: The Top Ten Reasons Chloe Hendricks Sucks.

  I’d actually come up with way more than ten reasons when I’d made the list. I scanned the reasons, some of them mean and petty, some sort of funny. After the Letterman locker defacing, I’d wanted revenge, so I’d created this list and planned to use it, but then I’d chickened out.

  Reading it now, all I felt was relief that I hadn’t done to her what she’d done to me. I didn’t want to be that person. I tore the list into pieces, bursts of gratitude shooting through me with each rip. I tossed the shredded list and the rest of my old papers in a recycling bin and headed for my truck.

  The parking lot was full of people since it was lunch break. Chloe and Ryan leaned against his Range Rover, kissing. As I walked by them, I smiled because all I felt was lightness, like a weight I didn’t even know I’d been carrying floated away. They had their lives. I had mine. And in spite of the Tri Shit Storm, I wouldn’t trade with them in a million years.