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"Looks like we've got an audience," I whisper to Lacey, nodding towards our amateur paparazzo. Her surprise quickly turns into laughter, the kind that makes you snort.
"Well, at least someone finds this situation amusing," I grumble, trying not to crack a smile myself.
"Oh come on, it's hilarious," Lacey says, wiping tears from her eyes. "We look like two crazed ice cream bandits caught in the act." She keeps laughing. "Can you imagine the caption on this photo? 'Local Hero Saves Drowning Ice Cream.' Or 'Team Owner Caught in Scandalous Affair with Ice Cream Cone.'"
Joining her laughter, I feel the absurdity of the situation. "Good thing I kept my shirt on this time, unlike that time we got ambushed at the cafe," I say, more relaxed.
Lacey looks at me, her eyes raking down my baseball cap, t-shirt, and jeans. "And what's wrong with being shirtless?" she says, one eyebrow arching.
I feel heat rush to my cheeks and I quickly avert my eyes, feeling like a teenager caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Nothing, it's just...you know...not appropriate for public consumption."
Lacey laughs again, shaking her head. "You're such a prude."
I blink, one hand reaching for her waist without my explicit permission. "I think we both know I'm not a prude.” I counter, my voice dropping.
"Oh really?" She challenges, leaning in.
I glance over my shoulder, making sure our paparazzo hasn't moved in for a closer shot. "Well, let's just say you've had a little something to do with that," I say, my lips quirking into a smirk.
Lacey's laughter fades into a soft smile and she leans in close, her breath warm against my ear. "Good."
The scent of her, soft and citrus-like, makes my head spin and I tighten my grip on her waist. "Careful, Miss Alvarez. This is playing with fire," I warn, my voice tight.
Lacey pulls back slightly, her eyes meeting mine. "And what if I want to get burned?" she says, her voice just as strained.
My heart races and my mind goes blank as we stand there, inches apart, caught in a moment that feels electric. I've been playing my life, my career, safe for so long that this rush of adrenaline feels like a drug.
And it's not just the adrenaline. It's Lacey. She's like a spark, igniting something within me that I didn't even know was there. Something wild and reckless, but undeniably alive.
And I'm addicted.
I lean in closer to her, our lips almost touching. "Then let's get burned together," I say, ready to close the gap between us until I feel a tug on my shirt.
I turn to look and see my seven-year-old's tiny nose scrunched up at me.
"Why are you two so close?" she asks.
"Just talking," I stammer, cheeks aflame.
"About what?"
Lacey leans down to her level and winks. "About how much we love ice cream cones," Lacey covers, still laughing.
My daughter's eyes light up. "Ice cream cones are the best! Just don't touch Daddy's cone. He hates his cone being touched."
Lacey tries to keep a straight face but fails. "I'll keep that in mind."
I place a hand on Grace's hair, trying not to show how flushed my face probably is. Trying to recover, I'm thankful when thunder offers a distraction
"Alright, you two comedians, looks like it's going to rain soon. Let's pack up and head home."
We quickly gather our things and stuff us and our things into the nearest taxi we can hail. My mind is still reeling from the almost-kiss with Lacey at we settle into the backseat.
The rain finally falling and Grace chattering on about everything and anything, I peek over at Lacey. She's staring out the window, a small smile on her lips. And I I can't help but think about what could have happened if my daughter hadn't interrupted us.
Would I have finally taken a chance and kissed Lacey? Gone for it, for everything we both know we want? Or would I have chickened out at the last moment?
What will it take for me to finally take that leap that lets Lacey know how I truly feel?
