7. Seven
Seven
Nate
The morning air is cool but already warming as the sun stretches over the horizon. The waves roll in steadily and surely, the golden light catching on the surface, making everything look like it’s glowing. I breathe it in—the salt, the quiet, the peace.
At least, it’s peaceful until—
“Come on, drummer boy. Keep up.”
Lacey grins over her shoulder as she picks up speed, her ponytail swaying with each stride. She’s wearing some sort of thin leotard that hugs every curve in a way that should be illegal on a public beach. Each step makes my mouth go dry, and I have to force myself to look at the horizon instead of how the fabric clings to her sweet ass. The tide laps at her feet, her laughter carried by the ocean breeze, and something hot and dangerous coils in my stomach.
I huff out a breath, lengthening my stride to catch up, even though I was enjoying the view. “I thought this was supposed to be a casual run.”
She smirks. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I shake my head but match her pace. The sand is firm beneath my feet, the cool morning air balancing out the heat starting to build. I don’t usually run with anyone, but with Lacey, it’s easy.
We fall into a rhythm, neither of us speaking, just the sound of the waves and our steady breathing filling the space between us. She’s fast, but I’m taller, and eventually, I pull ahead.
Lacey groans. “Not fair. Your legs are longer.”
Now it’s my turn to smirk. “Excuses, excuses.”
She huffs, picking up speed, pushing herself to close the distance. I don’t let her win, but I do slow just enough that when we finally stop, panting and catching our breath, we’re side by side.
She bends over, hands on her knees. “Okay, maybe I should’ve started with stretching.”
I chuckle, rolling my shoulders. “You good?”
She straightens a flush on her cheeks—not just from the run. “More than good. I love mornings like this. It’s the one time everything feels… fresh.”
I nod, understanding more than she realizes. Mornings are like a reset. A time to exist in the quiet before the world demands more of you.
She exhales, brushing a few loose strands of hair from her face. “So, how about some Boston cream doughnuts?”
I snicker. “I thought your nutritionist would murder you.”
She grins. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
“You’re trouble, Lacey Monroe.”
She laughs, and it does something to me—settles deep in my chest—something I really don’t need to analyze. I don’t know what it is about her that draws me like a magnet.
After breakfast, we settle onto the sand, towels spread out under the sun. Lacey sighs in contentment, stretching in a way that makes it hard to look away.
“This,” she says, closing her eyes behind her sunglasses and lifting her face toward the sun, “is exactly what I needed.”
She takes a deep breath, and I try not to stare at how the movement draws attention to the curves of her breasts, the flat plane of her stomach. “Not used to having a day off?”
“Not even a little.” She peeks at me from over her sunglasses, and there’s something in that look that makes my blood run hot. “You?”
I shrug, leaning back on my elbows, needing the distance. “I like the quiet.”
Her lips curve into a knowing smile. “Yeah, I’m getting that about you, Stone.”
The conversation drifts into easy topics—music, movies, the tragedy of the latest remake of a classic film. She gets heated over Hollywood remakes, and I just sit back and watch, enjoying the animation in her voice, the way her nose scrunches when she’s really into an argument. I’m thankful that my dark sunglasses hide how my eyes trail over her curves in that swimsuit she’s wearing. It’s modest compared to some, but would still tempt a saint. I determinedly avert my eyes.
It’s a slow, lazy kind of morning until her phone starts buzzing.
She sighs, peering at the screen. “And so it begins.”
I raise a brow. “Fans?”
She snorts. “Worse. Family.”
She taps the screen, putting the call on speaker.
“Lacey!”
“Hi, Blaire,” Lacey says with a long-suffering sigh.
“So, are you married yet, or are you making Hollywood wait?”
“Blaire—“
“Oh, relax,” Blaire drawls. “I’m teasing. You’re living the dream. Private beach, handsome rockstar fiancé—“
I chuckle and say, “I like her.”
Blaire demands. “Is that him? Put him on.”
Lacey groans. “Nate, do not encourage her.”
I lean in, amused. “Hi, Blaire.”
“Even your voice is sexy as hell—all low and gravelly.”
I chuckle. “So I’ve been told.”
Lacey gapes at me. “Are you flirting with my sister?”
Blaire laughs. “Let him. It’s the most fun I’ve had all week.”
I glance at Lacey. “I can see where you get it from.”
She frowns, and Blaire continues. “So, tell me, Nate—are you worthy of my younger sister? Because I’m very protective of her.”
Lacey groans again. “We are not doing this.”
I laugh, playing along. “I don’t know, Blaire. That depends. What’s the standard?”
“Oh, he’s good. I like this one, Lace. Keep him.”
Lacey rolls her eyes.
“Anyway,” Blaire says. “Mom and Dad are dying to hear all about your whirlwind romance, so expect a thousand questions at Sunday dinner with the entire family in two weeks.”
Lacey sits up, eyes wide. “Wait. What?”
“Oops! Gotta go, love you!”
The call ends. Lacey just sits there, staring at her phone. “She did not just—“
I chuckle. “Sunday dinner two weeks from now, huh?”
She glares at me. “My family is relentless. Loud, nosy, and entirely too involved.”
“They sound fun.” I resist the urge to reach out and push a lock of her hair off her face.
“You say that now, but wait until they start interrogating you.”
I shrug. “I’ll handle it.”
Her gaze holds mine, something unreadable flickering before she shakes her head. “You’re insane and asking for trouble.”
I grin. “But you like my confidence.” She rolls her eyes but doesn’t deny it.
The sun climbs higher, the morning slipping into midday. Lacey stretches as she stands. “Okay, I need to swim.”
I nod toward the water. “Go for it.”
“You’re not coming?” She crosses her arms. “What, afraid I’ll outswim you?”
My eyes are automatically drawn to the way her crossed arms highlight her breasts.
I give an arrogant shrug. “I can outswim you in my sleep.”
Lacey’s chin comes up in challenge. “Prove it.”
I shake my head, amused, but stand anyway. “You’re very competitive.”
“I know.” She winks before darting toward the waves.
I watch her go, my throat tightening. Lacey Monroe is too damn enticing for my peace of mind.
Before I can join her, my phone vibrates. It’s a text from Emily with this month’s schedule. I scroll through it and confirm there’s nothing scheduled for that Sunday.
Lacey emerges from the water, droplets trailing down her throat and over her collarbone. Her swimsuit clings to every curve, and when she pushes her wet hair back, exposing the elegant line of her neck, my fingers itch to trace that path.
“You coming in or what?” she calls, hands on her hips.
I raise my brow. “Thought you started without me.”
“I did. But I’m willing to give you a second chance.”
I peel off my shirt, hyperaware of how her eyes darken as they trail over my chest, lingering just a second too long before she looks away. The flush on her cheeks isn’t from the sun, and knowing I affect her just as much as she affects me is both satisfying and dangerous.
She clears her throat. “Come on, Stone. Show me what you’ve got.”
I wade into the water, the coolness wrapping around my skin as I dive under, cutting through the waves effortlessly. When I resurface, Lacey is watching me, her lips twitching like she’s trying not to smile.
“Not bad,” she admits.
“Not bad?” I arch a brow, moving closer. “Sweetheart, I could swim laps around you.”
“Oh, that’s it. Race me to the buoy.” She doesn’t even wait for me to agree before she takes off.
Laughing, I follow, keeping just behind her as we cut through the waves. Lacey is fast—strong strokes and streamlined movements. But I’ve got power, and I know how to pace myself.
I push forward at the last second, reaching the buoy just before she does. She collides softly with my chest, the impact sending sparks through my system. Her skin is cool from the water, but her breath is warm against my neck.
Lacey groans, breathless. “Not fair. I want a rematch.”
I grip the buoy, aware of how close she is and how easy it would be to reach out and touch her. “You have a hard time losing, don’t you?”
Her eyes spark with challenge, droplets clinging to her lashes. “Only when I think I can win.”
“Cocky, too.” My voice comes out rougher than intended.
She shrugs, and I have to force myself not to pull her closer, wanting to feel her wet body against my skin. “I prefer the term confident.”
I don’t answer because that would be dangerous. Instead, I watch her for a second as she leans back and floats—her dark lashes fluttering shut, the way her body moves with the gentle waves, how completely at ease she looks.
I like this side of her—the unguarded version. The one who isn’t playing a role isn’t posing for cameras, just being herself. I like having her here—like this.
Once back onshore, we dry off and stretch out on the sand. Lacey is propped on her elbows as she scrolls through her phone. I try not to notice how the sun highlights every curve. When she shifts, her arm brushes mine, and the contact sends electricity dancing across my skin.
I close my eyes, tilting my head back, but that only makes me more aware of her presence beside me—the subtle scent of her sunscreen, the soft sound of her breathing, the heat radiating from her body mere inches from mine.
And then—
“Oh no, not again.”
I crack an eye open. “What?”
She groans, flipping her phone to show me the screen—incoming FaceTime from Mom.
I chuckle. “Are you going to answer?”
She grimaces but swipes to accept the call.
“Lacey Josephine Monroe!”
I choke on a laugh. Lacey winces. “Hi, Mom.”
A tiny, dark-haired woman appears on the screen. “Lacey, is that all you have to say? You’ve been in town for almost twenty-four hours, and not one update? Do you know how many headlines I had to read just to know you were still alive?”
Lacey sighs. “I’m fine, Mom.”
“And this Nate Stone fellow? Is he taking care of you?”
I lean in to see the screen, and Lacey doesn’t move away. The heat of her body seeps into mine, her wet hair brushing my shoulder.
“Hi, Mrs. Monroe.” I notice how Lacey tenses slightly when my breath hits her ear, but she doesn’t pull back.
Her mom smiles. “Oh! There he is. Handsome and polite.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“You, too, dear. Tell me, do you plan on keeping my daughter all to yourself?”
Lacey puts her face in her palm. “Mother.”
“Oh, relax, Stellina. I just want to make sure my future son-in-law is worthy of you.”
I grin. “Blaire said the same thing earlier. You’ll have to decide for yourself.”
Mrs. Monroe claps her hands. “Oh, you are a sweet-talker.”
Lacey groans. “I’m hanging up now.”
“No, wait! Your father wants to say hi!”
“Sorry, love you, bye!”
She ends the call. “I swear, my family exists solely to make my life difficult.”
“Your mother called you Stellina?”
Lacey smiles. “Italian for little star.”
“Appropriate.” I nod in approval.
She falls back onto the towel. “They mean well. They really do. They just… hover . “ She glances at me. “What about yours?”
I stiffen. It’s not intentional—it just happens. Lacey notices, but she doesn’t push.
I exhale slowly. “We’re not… close.”
She watches me for a second. “Not close as in distant or not close emotionally?”
I consider lying. Deflecting. But something about the way she’s looking at me makes me want to answer honestly.
“Both,” I admit.
She nods as if she gets it. “Are your parents still alive?”
“My mother is.”
“And your dad?”
“Not in the picture.” I keep my tone light. “Left when I was twelve. Classic ‘went for cigarettes’ scenario.”
Lacey’s hand finds mine in the sand, and I let her twine our fingers together. “I’m sorry.”
“Ancient history.” I squeeze her hand. “Besides, the band’s my family now. You saw that last night.”
She rolls onto her side to face me, and a drop of water falls from her hair onto my chest. I resist the urge to brush the wet strands from her face, to let my fingers linger on her skin.
“For what it’s worth,” she says softly, her dark eyes holding mine, “I think the family you choose means just as much as the one you’re born into.”
I turn to meet her gaze, fighting the pull to close the distance between us. The ocean breeze catches in her hair, her expression soft but knowing, and something dangerous unfurls in my chest.
There’s more to Lacey Monroe than the cameras show—she’s fun, challenging, and sexy as hell without trying. The way she looks at me with those knowing dark eyes reaches places I thought I’d locked away.
And as we sit there, side by side, with the waves rolling in steady and sure, I can’t help but wonder if, despite everything, I’m actually looking forward to whatever comes next, even if it turns my well-ordered life upside down.