Lacey stares out the window with vacant eyes, the pharmacy sign blinking red above her. Seth’s left her in the rental car while he stopped to pick up her prescription for pain pills. She shivers and hugs her bandaged elbows, feeling groggy and unlike herself. Her body a train wreck of aches and pains.
She closes her eyes, trying to disengage from the memory of last night.
Tune everything out and focus. There’s no missing necklace. No man with his hands over her mouth. And there’s definitely no blood streaming out of her stomach like the warmest waterfall she’s ever seen.
Lacey replays the surf in her head. A coping technique her therapist turned her onto years ago. Picture the beach. The crash of waves, the swell. The crash. The swell. The—
Hand on her forehead.
Stiffening in her seat, she opens her eyes.
Seth’s back. Sitting in the driver’s seat, staring at her with worry. “You okay?”
“I was asleep,” she snaps, straightening up in her chair. The cell phone in her lap buzzes. She looks down and fires off a frantic text to Autumn about linens and llamas.
“You call your sister yet?” Seth asks in a low, rumbling drawl that has Lacey’s belly flipping over multiple times. “She’s worried.”
Lacey keeps her eyes on the window. On the Jesus Saves sign standing tall in the distance. “I will.”
“When?”
She turns to him, eyes flashing. “I will, Seth. Jesus, I didn’t know we were on a schedule.”
Leveling a dry look her way, Seth tosses her medication on the dash, on top of the police report she’s been given, her hospital discharge paperwork listing instructions to change her bandage often and watch for infection.
Then they’re in motion, Seth steering the car one-handed down the streets of Los Angeles.
Another ping on her phone. Lacey groans. The caterer sent over the wrong menu.
Seth side-eyes her. “That thing ever stop going off?”
“It’s my job, Seth,” she fires back. Fires off a text.
“Yeah, well, I already hate your job,” he says, his voice cloudy. “Some dipshit sending you to downtown LA at night deserves to have his ass beat.”
Without looking up, still typing, she says, “I’m in Reseda. Stay on this and then take the 101 to Spring Street.”
“You got it, Your Highness.”
Seth accelerates, then brakes, cursing at someone who doesn’t let him through the intersection.
“Oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me,” he snaps and Lacey looks up. They’re stopped again. Ducking her head, she smothers a smile watching him try to navigate around LA. She can already tell he hates it here. Good. Maybe he’ll leave sooner than later.
Her eyes skim over Seth, who’s staring at the traffic with an intense scowl. Her belly goes tight, a slow flush creeping over her.
He desperately needs a haircut. Its current state is boyish and floppy, but adorable in that way only Seth can pull off. He’s like a colt. An eager, sandy-colored, long-legged colt. With boots.
He’s irresponsibly attractive. Seth and his rock-and-roll T-shirts, his muscled arms, his country boy charm, his smug attitude. It’s disgusting. Infuriatingly ridiculous.
Soon, she’ll be stuck with him at her apartment for twenty-four hours. Seth messing up her space. Her and him together. Alone.
Her memory travels to earlier this afternoon. Seth strolling into her hospital room like some countrified Lancelot. She doesn’t know how she feels about him flying to Los Angeles for her. Stunned, yes. Flattered, maybe. Happy, definitely not. He’s only here for Sal, anyway. Settling debts he doesn’t need to settle.
She came to him that night because she wanted to. Because he needed help.
She hopes he found it. Because all she came away with from that night has been a case of utter confusion and frustration.
Her heart hasn’t stopped racing since that kiss. A kiss that bound them somehow. A kiss that told Lacey Seth could be hers in more ways than just their typical quick hookup. If she wanted him.