AllFreeNovel
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“Hey.”
“Hey there yourself.” His teasing voice tickles my ear. I’m so grateful he can’t see me melting into goo. “It’s been too long. Are you busy tonight?”
“Are you bored?”
“Excruciatingly. Want to go out?”
“You should come over. I have something to show you. To play you. To playforyou.” Ugh. Come on, mouth and brain. Cooperate.
He laughs. “You can play me all you like.”
“Keep dreaming.” I laugh with him. I always do when Jace is involved. I like that. I missed laughing with someone, at someone, and laughing in general.
“I’ll be there in twenty,” he says.
“Okay.”
I sounded so uncaring when I said that, but those twenty minutes of waiting put me through a ringer. I run upstairs, change clothes a million times, brush my teeth, try to wrangle my hair into a bun. Why, I don’t know. It never wants to stay on top of my head. Anything else works—elaborate braids and lush curls—just not the neck-flattering buns. Maybe my body is telling me something. I must have an ugly neck.
Wow. When was the last time I cared this much about what I look like?
Forget that. I do have something to show to Jace. A song I stole from him. When he let me visit his place, I took some pictures of his work in progress. Then I took the tune that tempted me to talk to him in the first place, smoothed out some sharp corners in his lyrics, and welded them together. He’ll be so mad.
My phone rings again, this time from Jonas. “A Mr. Jace Blackmore is here to see you,” he drawls.
Already? Forget the bun. “Coming!” I twist my hair into a ponytail and hurry downstairs.
Hands in his jeans pockets, Jace strides into the house and looks around with faint disinterest. He’s been here before, and he’s no longer impressed. He watches me run down the stairs— No, Laurel. Stop. Walk. No running. I keep my hand on the handrail, siphoning some of his chill attitude.
I attempt to jump over the bottom three steps, thinking I’ll look so cool, but I trip over my feet. As I start to fall, I beg for the universe to open the ground beneath me so it could swallow me before I faceplant.
Jace catches me by the upper arm, then slides his arm around my waist and draws me closer. “Had I known you’d be this excited to see me…” His mischievous smile is proof he knows I might smack him.
“Are you hungry?” If he thinks I’ll swoon or blush… My cheeks are burning. But not because of him. I was aiming to be elegant and relaxed, not the awkward duck I am right now, in his strong arms, next to his athletic body.
Jace lets go and saunters out of the entryway. “Always. What’s for dinner?”
“I have no idea. Food is often the last thing on my mind until my stomach is caving in on itself. But hey, it’s just you and me. You don’t have to worry about my parents interrogating you, and Hal isn’t back yet.” I lead him to the dining room where our large table is usually set for me and Hal, for whenever he gets home.
The moment we set foot in the dining room, though, I come to an abrupt stop. The table. White plates sit atop golden placemats. Next to them—tall-stemmed glasses. White tea candles and pink rose petals float in water in a narrow, rectangular dish between the plates, cozying up the mood. Hal and I don’t dine like this.
“Reese?” I call out to our chef, who pops out from behind the door to the kitchen a little too quickly.
“Miss Laurel?” Hands resting behind his back, Reese is the embodiment of a four-star restaurant chef. He may be sporting jeans and a simple black shirt, but his green apron is spotless and crisp, and my parents did actually steal him from a fancy place somewhere in Los Angeles.
I tilt my head toward the table. “Thank you for the lovely spread.” He must’ve heard Jace come and hustled to spice up the presentation.
Reese delivers a half-bow befitting a samurai. “Should I serve the food?”
I let him think I didn’t notice that tiny smile that sprouted at the end. “Yes, please.”
“Wine?”
Oh my gosh! This is not a date.
“No.” Jace’s response is resolute to the point of warning. When I glance at him, he explains, “I don’t drink.”
Reese nods again. “I’ll bring some lemonade.”
