She nods, running a finger across the tape, and raises her eyes to him. Seth blinks. He never noticed the color. A light turquoise, like blue-green sea glass, not the deep emerald of her sister’s. So damn different from Sal’s. So damn beautiful.
He clears his throat, too many emotions all at once, and moves out of her space.
Christ, what’s wrong with him?
“You wanna eat?” he asks, dragging a hand through his hair to mask his discomfort. “I’ll fix us up somethin’. You gotta be starved.”
“You cook?” she asks, following him out of the bathroom, genuine curiosity in her tone. She turns on the lights as they make their way to the kitchen. City noise from the street filters through the thin walls. Outside, the sun is setting in a blue-winter glow.
“Ain’t so sure.” Seth flashes her a crooked grin over his shoulder. “We’ll see.”
After finding the frying pan, directed by Lacey with a point of her manicured nail, he rustles through a grocery bag. Pulls out what he wants. Bread, butter, cheese and pepperoni. An easy meal he and Luke used to make when they were living on tips from their guitars.
Over his shoulder, Lacey peeks into the bags, her expression turning from amused to stunned all in the span of five seconds.
He points with the spatula as he turns on a burner. “I got you Tylenol and Pedialyte and that weird yogurt you liked. I wasn’t sure if you had bone broth, so I got a few different brands. I tossed in some magazines in case you’re bored. They ain’t the best quality, but I thought ...”
Seth trails off.
Lacey’s staring. Her head tilted at a strange, quizzical angle.
Suddenly he’s clamming up.
Fuck.
He knows too much about her.
Only she saves him by asking, a small smirk on her face, “How much do I owe you?”
He grunts. “Don’t be dumb.”
Her nostrils flare.
But she unpacks, saying nothing for once, leaving the ball-busting alone, a smile on her face at his obvious stammering.
His jaw flexing, Seth turns to the stove, focusing on the food, focusing on reining in his scrambled brain. What is it with Lacey? How does she do that? Have him in a million little pieces with that damn scowly smile of hers?
A gasp has him looking over.
Lacey’s eyes glow as she tears into the bag of peanut butter cups he’s bought. “These are my favorite.” Her pretty face pulled into a wince, an expression that has Seth hurting, she gingerly seats herself at the kitchen table.
Seth busies himself with slathering bread with butter. He slaps a piece of bread into the heated frying pan, butter side down, then tops it with cheese and pepperoni before covering the toppings with another slice of bread. The sizzle of hot grease and melted cheese has his stomach rumbling. If he’s hungry, Lacey must be starved.
“Seth?”
He glances over his shoulder.
Lacey’s stacking a peanut butter cup cairn on the table. Wrappers scattered around her. She eyes him beneath her long lashes. “Thanks.” Her mouth purses. “For ... everything.”
He chuckles. “Wow. How hard was that thank-you?”
A lift of her chin. A hint of a smile. “Only slightly agonizing.”
With a quick turn of the wrist, he flips the sandwiches over. “You’re welcome,” he says, his eyes holding hers. “I’m glad I could help.”
Then the sandwiches are on a plate, the napkins in his hands, and he joins Lacey at the table.
The ping of Lacey’s phone. Instantly, she jumps to attention.