But Lucas shot off his mouth before he could say anything. “Dude, get your sister off me, please.” Quinn tightened her arms around Lucas, and I smiled at how much grief she’d been giving him lately. At twenty, Lucas had no patience for an eight-year-old with a crush. “I love Lucas,” she said, giggling. “I’m going to marry him.” “The hell you are!” He looked down at her with intolerance . . . and maybe a little fear, too. “Dude, seriously,” he urged Madoc. “It’s creepy.”
