Seth hangs back against the counter, watching Lacey channel her inner party planner extraordinaire. This morning, she got a delivery from the LA flower truck, and now her small apartment is filled with flowers and fragrant scent. Lacey stands, wearing a messy braid and a fuzzy pink lounge set, her tongue quirked out of the side of her mouth while she hums and examines the bouquets on the table.
He nurses his coffee, eyes on her, happy she’s doing at least one activity that isn’t heavy lifting. He’s seen her schedule of to-dos and thanks Christ he stuck around to help.
Although, he wonders if he’s stuck around for more than that.
His jaw goes tight as he thinks about what happened last night. The way Lacey curled up in his arms like she belonged there. The way her soft thank-you damn near had him falling to pieces. The way he could have kissed her right then and there. Key idea being could have. Because Lacey’s got to be the one to make the first move. That girl’s been through some hell. The last thing she needs is Seth pawing at her.
If Lacey’s idea of cruel and unusual punishment is having them share a bed, then he’s a goddamn sucker. Sign him up, night after night. Anything to get her in his arms.
Seth pushes off the counter, moving toward her. She stands in front of a huge arrangement of black peonies, specially dyed for the occasion.
She looks up and smiles. “Colin adores a good monochromatic floral arrangement.”
“I thought they had people for this,” he says. “You know, professional flower arrangers.”
“It’s Colin’s request. He ...” Her eyes fall, an embarrassed flush coating her cheeks. “Wants my hands on them.”
He draws back, wrinkling his brow in disgust. “Christ, like a kink?”
“No!” She laughs and slaps a hand against his chest. Seth’s heart jumps, her very touch electric, and he has to fight the urge to cover her hand with his, keeping her there.
Her smile grows soft as she palms the blossom of a peony. “He thinks it’s good luck.” A shrug. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t, but what he wants, he gets.”
“Okay, slightly worried, but I’m into it.” He leans in. “Do you need help?”
Her lips lift in an amused sneer. “You?”
“Hey, there’s nothing I love better than flower arrangin’.”
She laughs, relenting. “Sure. Hand me that pampas grass over there.”
He squints. “The what now?”
With Lacey’s instruction, he finds some of the strange grass that looks more like a weed than a flower. Together, the two of them arrange black peonies and pampas grass into a strange cylindrical shape. They work swift and quiet, the only sound traffic in the distance, Lacey’s sweet hum. Seth can’t help sneaking glances at her pretty profile. Her vivid green eyes bright and alert. The cute purse of her mouth telling him she’s deep in concentration.
When they’re finished, Lacey steps back to examine the arrangement. She laughs happily, the sparkling sound bubbling up deep inside her core. It’s a sound that jump-starts his heart, has him coming alive. Making her laugh always feels like he won the lottery. She does it so rarely that earning a real, true laugh from Lacey means he did something right.
Lacey arches a brow, turns a wry eye his way. “Seth, it looks like Mr. Magoo arranged these flowers.”
He can’t disagree with that fact. He chuckles and lifts a brow. “Hey, I just sing.”
“Mr. Cowboy in LA,” Lacey teases.
She moves around him, evaluating the arrangement from every angle. As she brushes past Seth, he can’t help it. His hands, magnetized, graze against the small of her back. She jerks away. Her nostrils flare. “What’re you doing?”
Seth turns, facing her fully. Unable to keep the shit-eating smile off his face. “I don’t bite, Lace.”
She lifts her chin, haughty. “That’s not what I remember.”
Damn her, Seth thinks as his dick gives a jump in his pants. He stares, loving that fierce flash of fire in her brilliant green eyes. That flirty tone that has him coming unhinged. Banter as only Lacey can do. Banter that drives him goddamn crazy.
With a long sigh, she fluffs the pampas grass. “We agreed not to do this anymore.”
He gives her a grin. It’s either gonna set her off or make her kiss him. He isn’t sure which one he wants more. Anything that’ll shake a little more feistiness into her, he’ll take it. “What’s this?”
She stamps her foot. “You know, Seth.”
“Why?” He can’t help the question, the god-awful need to know, the agonizing wrench of his heart if she says yes. “You seein’ someone?”