He quirks a grin. “Well, you are Sal’s sister.”
A choked laugh escapes her. “Oh my God, I know. That time she served that lasagna?” She shudders. “I still remember the crunch. Luke was so nice he actually ate the entire thing.” She jabs the fork at Seth. “Do not tell Sal I said that.”
“Kinda violent, ain’t we?” Seth says, scooping up a bite of catfish. “Slappin’ me with flowers. And now sharp utensils?”
Lacey shrugs, breaking off a piece of flaky fish. “The dangerous life of an event planner. Deal with it.”
A brief silence falls as Seth digs into the food. Only Lacey doesn’t eat; instead, her eyes take in the handsome planes of Seth’s face. His crystal-blue eyes, his wide grin. The easy way he sits there, countrified and cool.
Lacey bites her lip and looks down at her food.
She likes this. Too much. A happy presence in her space. Conversation that’s effortless. Like she and Seth are two people who’ve come home after a long, hard day at work and can’t wait to download and dish.
“Talked to Luke today.” Seth’s rumble has her glancing up. “He got someone to fill in for me while I’m gone.”
She tilts her head, hearing the bitter tone in his voice. “Are you okay with that?”
“I have to be.” He shifts in his seat, his handsome face contorting. “Hell, it just has me seein’ what it’d be like if I left and I ain’t ready to do that.”
“Good. You deserve to be there.”
“I don’t know.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “Sometimes I think Luke would be better off.”
Her heart twists at the pain in his voice.
“That’s stupid,” she says hotly. She reaches out and grabs his hand. “You’re being stupid, Seth. Luke needs you. You’re half of the Brothers Kincaid.” She glares at her fish. “Ugh, this is all my fault. If you weren’t out here with me—”
She trails off. Seth’s shaking his head, his expression fierce. “I wanna be out here. I wanna be with you.”
The loaded words slip over her like a promise. A vow.
She lets out a long breath. Seth’s staring at her in some ridiculous turn-her-knees-to-jelly hungry, hangdog way. He looks tortured.
“What’re we doin’, Lace?” His voice is a hoarse drawl. He slips his fingers through hers, linking them.
“I don’t know.” Butterflies fill her stomach. “Maybe we should just stay friends.”
He frowns. “Is that what we are?”
“I don’t know that either.”
He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, she leans forward, locking eyes.
“Can we not do this now?”
Though she aches to talk about it, talk about them, she’s chickening out. Talking means decisions, means giving up control, means losing focus on the party, means she’s one step closer to letting Seth Kincaid upend her entire world.
Upend her right into bed.
Oh God, she’s slipping.
She’s sunk.
Lacey squeezes his hand. “We’ll talk. We will. I just ... I have to get through tomorrow.”
His eyes flicker, hurt there, but also understanding. “Yeah. Sure. Tomorrow.”