How (Not) to Fall in Love(53)

I climbed in and started the engine. He frowned as the Reaper roared to life.

“You need to get this beast worked on,” he called to me over the roar of the engine. He pointed to the blue smoke coming out of the tail pipe.

“I know,” I said. “After the estate sale. I’ll have money then.”

I started to roll up the window but stopped when he stepped closer, his face even with mine. “I can work on it now. You can pay me for parts later.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I said, swallowing nervously.

He rested his arms on the doorframe, a hint of a smile on his sexy lips. “I know I don’t have to. But maybe I want to.”

“Oh.” I swallowed again, wishing I’d grabbed a water bottle from Charlie’s fridge.

He stepped back, slapping the door of my truck like a quarterback slapping a receiver after a catch. “Let me know if you change your mind, Darcy. You can call me anytime. If this breaks down or whatever.”

“Right. Like you’d come running at three a.m.” Oh crap. I’d used my outside voice, hadn’t I? Damn, damn, damn it. I bit my lip, watching him nervously, wishing I could take it back.

He looked startled, but then he smiled in a way I’d never seen before. “For you? Yeah.”

Then he turned away, disappearing into Charlie’s store before I could even catch my breath.





Chapter Twenty


November 11


I’d barely started my shift at Liz’s on Tuesday when Lucas showed up.

“Hey, Shaker Girl,” he said, leaning on the counter while I cleaned coffee mugs.

“Hey.” I glanced up and smiled. I wanted to give him a nickname too, but the only ones I came up with I’d never say out loud. His Royal Hotness, Lord Lucas didn’t have quite the same bounce as Shaker Girl.

“So.” He cleared his throat. “Are you doing anything after work tonight?”

The mug slipped from my hands, clattering into the sink but not breaking. I reached for it, trying to compose myself before I dared to look at him.

“Because Pickles needs a babysitter,” he continued, “and I, um, have plans. And my dad actually has a date, which is good. Weird but good. He’s waiting ’til I get home before he leaves.”

I looked up. The butterflies in my stomach turned into an angry knot. He wanted me to babysit while he went on a date? And his dad, too? That teeny tiny flame of hope I’d had about us snuffed out.

“How late are the Martinez men going to be out on the town?” I asked, trying to sound snarktastic, like I didn’t care that he only saw me as babysitter material.

We stared at each other and I was proud of myself for keeping my gaze locked on his. I didn’t blink, but he did. “I, uh…” He reached up to run a hand through his stupidly perfect hair and glanced away. “I’m not s-sure.”

It was fun watching him stammer. I was glad he could tell I was pissed, and that it rattled him.

“I don’t know, Lucas. This is really last minute.” Asking me to babysit was like him throwing me an eighty-yard pass, pushing me so deep into the friend zone I’d never get out.

His frown faded, but he didn’t smile. “Yeah. I know it’s a lot to ask but—”

“But you have a hot date,” I said. “And so does your dad.” And of course it wouldn’t occur to him that I might, since I never did.

He pushed off the counter, shoving his hands in his pockets. He stared at the floor. “No, I don’t,” he said. “But I have to do something after work. I’m not sure how long it will take.” He looked up at me and swallowed. “Look, I shouldn’t have asked. You’ve probably got plans—”

“I don’t.” Somehow him not having a date changed everything. “I can do it.”

He blinked again. “You can? Really?” I wondered how many girls said yes to him because of those damn eyelashes.

“If I can leave by one, it’s probably okay,” I said. “Pickles and I can make jewelry together.”

His lips quirked. “She’s usually asleep by eight thirty.”

Oh. My turn to feel stupid. “Of course,” I said, reaching for another cup to wash. “So I’m just hanging out at your house? In case of a secret ninja attack? How much do you pay?” His shocked expression made me laugh. “I’m kidding, dork. I don’t expect payment. I’ve got a book to read.” I cocked an eyebrow. “And I assume you have a TV?”

“Books. TV. We have one. Both, I mean. Books and TV.” He stepped back from the counter, stuttering and staring at me like I was an alien. Or a psycho. Possibly both.

I frowned, confused. “You okay, Lucas? You’re acting sort of weird.”

He nodded. “I’ll meet you after work. You can follow me to my house.”

To the ends of the earth and back, Your Royal Hotness, that’s how far I’d follow you. But all I said was, “Sure. See you then.”



“Guess where I am?” I said the second Sal answered her phone.

“Paris? Rome? Somewhere with a sexy guy?”

“Close. I’m in Lucas’s bedroom.”

“What?!” Her shriek almost broke my eardrum.