How (Not) to Fall in Love(95)
“Darcy can take care of herself,” Mom said. She paused. “But I’m grateful to know Lucas is around.” She gave him a meaningful look and he returned it, nodding. I knew they were both remembering the night he’d helped her to bed. The night everything had changed between him and me.
Lucas opened the driver’s side door of the Grim Reaper, but I put out a hand to stop him.
“I’d like to drive.”
He cocked an eyebrow, surprised. “Do you think you should?”
“I got myself here, didn’t I? Right now, I’d like to be in control of something.”
He dropped the keys into my waiting palm. “As you wish, Shaker Girl.”
I settled myself into the seat. Toby sandwiched himself between us, curling into a ball next to Lucas.
“Ready?” I smiled at him.
He grinned at me, the first real smile I’d seen from him since he’d arrived. “Ready.”
We drove out of the parking lot, waving. Mom wiped her eyes. Charlie saluted.
As we idled at a stoplight, Lucas plugged his iPod adapter into the lighter slot and queued up one of my favorite bands.
“Aren’t you the Boy Scout? Always prepared.”
“I know. It’s like I have to do everything. I bet you didn’t even think of getting snacks.”
He tossed a bag of peanut M&M’s on my lap.
“How’d you know they’re my favorite?”
His eyes glinted. “I’m very observant.”
“Yeah, you are. And full of surprises.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Not nearly as many as you.” He reached over and ran a finger down my cheek.
Shivering from his touch, I reached out to rub the ninja shakers glued to the dash. “For luck,” I told him.
Lucas shook his head. “You don’t need luck, Darcy. You never did.” His eyes locked on mine and I marveled at the emotion I saw reflecting back at me.
The light changed to green and I took a steadying breath as I revved the engine. “Ready?”
His low voice washed over me like a caress. “Ready for anything, as long as it’s with you.”
I headed for the highway and rolled down my window to let the cold wind in. My ponytail whipped around my neck, tickling my skin. I shot a grin at Lucas, who gave me his sexiest smirk in return.
The highway unfurled like a ribbon ahead of us. I gunned the engine, feeling the energy vibrate through me, enough to take us all the way to the stars and back again.
Epilogue
Denver Daily News
The Secret Scoop from the Street
by “Crystal Ball”
Reaping Their Harvests
It’s been almost a year since Tyler Covington made his last televised appearance on PBS. Since then I’ve followed his disappearance, rumors of embezzlement, and his hushed return to an inpatient mental hospital. I’ve been told his daughter was the one who finally found him, at a hippie commune somewhere in the mountains of Montana, but no one will confirm the story.
Here’s what I can confirm: J.J. Briggs, acting president of Tri!Umphant! Harvest Industries, was fired by the board of directors in the midst of bankruptcy proceedings. He now faces charges of fraud, embezzlement, misleading stockholders, and a slew of other charges that will keep his attorneys busy for a long time.
Insiders tell me that Briggs knew Covington was troubled and contemplating leaving Harvest, but instead of getting him help, Briggs concocted a crazy plan to “wake him up,” starting with the repossession of his daughter’s car from her school last fall, seizing the Covington home by forging a signature on the deed, and blaming Covington for real estate investments that crashed when the rest of the market did. Investments that Briggs made, not Covington. But there are rumors about Covington, too, that parts of his inspirational story were fabricated. No one from Harvest will confirm or deny these claims, and you can find just as many Covington supporters as detractors if you scan the internet.
Covington spent his life talking about harvests: planting, reaping, and sowing. It appears that J.J. Briggs is reaping his harvest. I can only hope that Covington reaps his as well, because no matter what other truths come out, he’s helped countless people, and been a huge pillar in the local nonprofit community. I hope that someday whatever he plants bears new fruit.
Lucas insists on driving his car to the cabin. He likes to drive fast and the Grim Reaper doesn’t do fast. He’s wearing sunglasses and a necklace of random beads, specially made by Pickles. I made the twisted copper bracelet that glints in the sun as he downshifts into third gear.
“Pull off here.” I point to the exit. His car bounces down the rutted road. “Your precious baby car,” I say. “We should’ve brought the truck.”
He snorts in mock disgust.
There’s whimpering from the backseat. I turn around. “Hush, Toby. We’re almost there.” Chocolate eyes lock onto mine. Brown fur shimmers in the sunshine. His tail whacks the seat, sending fur everywhere.
“It’s like a dog hair tsunami back there,” I say.
Lucas downshifts to second gear. “Like I care.”
I turn back around and there it is. Our cabin. Not ours anymore, I correct myself. It belongs to the Sullivan family now, but they agreed to let me come up to do this. I can pretty much talk anybody into anything these days.