Page 91 of Lucas & Melissa Falling in Love
He whispers, “Welcome back, Lissy.”
“I’m not staying. I won’t be moving in.” I back up, still holding his arms and I can feel Lucas behind me, see Roy looking at him over my shoulder.
“Oh? We’ll see.” Roy has that twinkle in his eye like he has a secret and I feel like he’s co-conspiring with Lucas and I’m the target of the conspiracy. But I laugh and pat his cheek.
“You’re right. Wewillsee.” Eventually. Maybe.
Lucas salutes him and we head for the elevator. My nerves act up again and I can’t blame it on the elevator that doesn’t go fast enough to cause even a mild wave. I can crawl faster.
Lucas the mind-reader puts an arm around me again and kisses the top of my head.
“You excited or nervous?”
“What makes you think I’m either?”
The deep vibration of his low chuckle does something to my insides that should be against the law. Unfair advantage over my female hormones, some kind of hypnotic power, animal magnetism, I don’t know what, but I lean into him and breathe him in and count the seconds until the elevator doors open on my floor—correction—Lucas’s floor.
“This feels strange. It shouldn’t though. I should be over it.”
“Over it? Over losing your home, you mean?” he says.
I’m determined to buck up. “It’s not so dramatic. It’s only an apartment. My real home is—” I’m about to say with my parents in Cold Springs, but I don’t because that’s not my real home anymore. “My real home is in my future. Although I have to say I feel very at home with Margo and George.”
We walk down the corridor to the apartment door and my insides scramble, but I clamp down. Hard.
“Ready?” he says with his hand on the doorknob of #512. My old apartment.
It feels lame, but I stand tall and say, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He gives me thatI can see right through you to your soul, so don’t bullshit melook. But I am ready. My head is ready, my stomach is still complaining a little, bubbling up and churning, but I ignore it. That’s what it means to buck up, right?
We step inside and I remember he’s never seen it before so, adopting the role of tour guide, I show him around.
Walking through the short entryway past him, I go to the large, almost floor-to-ceiling windows.
“The most interesting thing about this unit is not what’s inside, it’s what you can see outside. The view of the city.” Extending my arms Vanna-style, I smile at him. His instant dimple of appreciation feels like a reward.
Walking up to the window, he stands with me and looks outside at the cars. I’m about to point out that we can’t hear the street noise, but he gives me a look.
“The view is a pretty one, but you’ll never convince me it’s better than what’s inside.”
The flash of heat is so sudden and intense, I almost wonder if I’m in menopause twenty years too soon. But when my knees go rubbery and I want to throw myself at this man, and I instead gravitate toward him like we’re in a sci-fi movie, I know it’s the opposite of menopause. I know what it is.
“You say that to all the girls.”
He laughs. “All what girls?” He looks around in mock interest.
“All the ones that came before me.”
“Oh. Them.” He catches me as I lean the rest of the way, stumbling into his chest, not strong enough to resist. But then why should I resist? I don’t know why, can’t think, but I know there’s a reason not to give in.
He says, serious as a priest—a reallyhotserious priest—“Whatever line of women there may have been in my past pales in comparison to the parade of men that must have followed you.”
I laugh. For real. “You know that’s ridiculous.”
“How would I know that? I’ve already met two of them in our short acquaintance.” He raises his brows to emphasize his point.
“There aren’t many more.”
