She can’t stop thinking about earlier. They both danced around the issue, but Lacey thinks she heard it clear. He wanted more than sex. Something different from what they had in Nashville. She thinks she wants that too. The last few days she’s been trying to figure out her feelings, and they’re more than just a warm clench down below. There’s a clench in her heart.
Which means they’re a bad idea. He’s a superstar, charming, confident, hot; he doesn’t have time for her. And she doesn’t have time for heartbreak or more loss.
Still, she can be nice. She can ride this out until he leaves.
As if to prove her point, Lacey walks over to the stove and stirs the dish bubbling on a burner. She’s making dinner for Seth. To thank him for everything he’s done.
Even though every bone in her body is screaming at her to rest. She promises herself she will. After the party, a nice long nap is in order. A silencing of her phone. A binging of horror movies.
Two knuckle raps and a whistle sound at the door.
Lacey smiles at Seth’s familiar knock. He’s doing everything he can to make sure she’s safe and comfortable. Her heart warms. She appreciates it so much.
“Smells good.”
The low rumble has her glancing over. Seth’s skirting through the door, a black garment bag slung over his shoulder. With a quick stride, he opens the coat closet, hangs up the tux and then glances her way.
“I cooked,” she says awkwardly, jerking her hands to the stove.
“I can see that.” Seth steps inside the cramped kitchen. He leans close to her, inspecting the dishes on the stove. His mouth turns up. “Catfish?”
“Yeah. I had it Instacarted over.” She shrugs. “I thought ... I mean, it’s southern.” Her eyes flit to his, suddenly self-conscious. Panic she read the room wrong. Oh God.
“You like catfish, right?”
“A lot, actually.” His throat works, his eyes swerving to the made-up dinner table.
“It’s dinner,” Lacey offers. “I made you dinner. You know. To thank you for helping me.”
He stares at her, his expression unreadable. Then he grins. “Kinda premature, don’t ya think? We still got tomorrow. What if I botch setup?”
“Setup is my forte.” With a flick of her wrist, Lacey snaps off the burner. She turns to pull down two bowls, but Seth’s already there, setting them on the counter.
“What time do we got to be there?” he asks, stealing a taste of coleslaw.
She smiles at the we. Shakes the thought out of her dumb brain.
“Setup’s at nine.”
“Jesus. That’s all damn day.”
She scrapes the cornflake-crusted catfish into the bowls, returning the empty pan to the stove. The scent of butter and garlic wafts between them. “What?” she asks, adding a ladle of coleslaw to the bowl. She gives him a sly grin. “You have better things to do?”
Lacey freezes as Seth braces his hands on both sides on the counter, trapping her. His blue eyes stare into hers and her breath quickens. “I don’t want you liftin’ shit, you hear me?” His expression is so serious, so full of care, that for a second her heart ceases to beat.
“I won’t,” she breathes. “I have people for that.”
His eyes grow soft. “You have me.”
She exhales, twisting her body to grab a dish. “We should eat.”
After a second, Seth lets her loose. Together, they carry the bowls to the table. They settle in, the awkward clink of utensils, the first few bites, and then Seth’s laughing. “Holy shit,” he says.
She frowns, worried. “What?”
“This is good.”
“You sound surprised.”