How (Not) to Fall in Love(55)

“What?” I asked, twisting and turning. I lost my footing, stumbling against the duke. “What do you want from me, Lucas?”

“Darcy?” The hand moved from my hair to my shoulder, shaking me gently. “You need to wake up.”

My eyes flew open. Lucas sat next to me on the couch. Like right next to me. Somehow while sleeping I’d stretched out my legs, and he sat on the middle cushion, my body almost wrapped around him.

I leaned into the back of the couch, trying to put space between us. He dropped his hand from my shoulder. How long had he been sitting there watching me sleep? Was it his hand I’d felt on my face? In my hair? Or was that part of the dream?

He smiled down at me and I wondered if I was still dreaming.

“What did you mean?” he said. I looked at him blankly and he added, “You asked me what I wanted.”

Of all the nights to talk in my sleep. Crap.

“Um, what?” I feigned confusion and rubbed my eyes. “I guess I was dreaming.”

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.