with ancient history."
"So we're just going to eat in silence?"
He nipped her neck, then stepped back to grab the plates. "Nope. You're going to tell me more about your decorating project."
"There's not much to tell," she answered with an embarrassed shrug while bringing the coffee pot to the table. "More coffee?"
"Only if you don't sidestep." He held out his mug. "What are you doing in there?"
"Nothing, really. Just tearing off wallpaper and ripping out carpet. The room will be transformed next week."
"That fast?" He looked stunned. "I'd think it would take months."
"I don't know what planet you live on, buster. But DIY is cheaper and faster," she said, nibbling on a piece of bacon.
"I don't believe it."
"Are you baiting me into demanding you help? Because I will."
Trace held up a hand. "I could in the evenings, after I work out at the arena. Flint Hills Rodeo next weekend."
"Right." Silly Cecilia. For a hot second, she'd hopped on the "Let's redecorate together" train. But Trace was a busy man. Of course he'd have no time for her modest attempts at renovation. That was a couples thing, and while they might be a couple in the sense that they weren't going to be seeing other people, they weren't the kind of couple that did homey things together.
"Are you planning on going?"
"To what? The rodeo?" She shook her head. "Not really my thing."
"If I asked, would you go?"
It was on the tip of her tongue to say no. Rodeos really weren't her thing, and she'd be third wheeling it with Izzie and Jeanine who'd inevitably pair off with a couple of cowboys and spend the whole night on the dance floor. A quiet night at home sounded so much nicer. But her insides thawed a little bit more at the earnest look on Trace's face. Like he wanted to hope but was afraid to. Like he'd secretly be crushed if she declined. A part of her soul leaped in recognition. She understood that look. Intimately. How could she deny him? "I'd love to," she said, cheeks heating.
He reached across the table and grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. "It's my first rodeo. I'd be... glad for the company."
And now her heart had just turned to goo. How did he do that? Go from cocky one second to sweet and sincere in the next? She polished off the last of her eggs then stood abruptly, grabbing the empty plates and rinsing them in the sink. When he looked at her like that, it... scared her to death. He made her feel way too much for something that had an inevitable deadline.
"Hey, what's this?" he asked, grabbing the stack of paper at the end of the table.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
"Oh it's nothing," she said breezily, trying not to panic. Why had she even taken the article out of the folder yesterday? Right. Self-pity. "Just a project from my old job. Hand it over? I can take it upstairs."
"Wait," he said, flipping through the pages.
She extended her hand. "Really, it's nothing." Even Izzie wasn't allowed to read her work. It was a superstitious luck thing with her. People could read it in the paper. "Please?" Her pulse began to hammer as he started to read in earnest.
Trace glanced up at her. "Is this true?"
"What do you mean, is this true? Of course it's true. I'm a journalist." His face darkened as he flipped to the second page. "Please, Trace. Just give it to me? It's nothing." It was everything, and that was the problem. Her biggest triumph and her greatest failure, all wrapped into one ten-thousand word multi-part article. She moved to take the papers, but he raised his hand out of reach, eyes burning into her. He shouldn't look at her that way. Like he believed in her. It did dangerous things to her insides. "Besides, I have a thing about people reading my work before it's published. Bad luck. Very bad luck."
"This is good," he said, glancing at the papers still in his hand. "Really good."
In spite of herself, she thrilled at his words. "Yeah, well it also got me sacked." She snatched the papers back as soon as his hand dropped and she tossed them in the recycle under the sink.
"You're kidding."
"I wish I was."
"Why?"
His confusion was sweet. "Why do you think? You read the first page. Until You is a high dollar escort service with a client list that if revealed, could bring down giants. Turns out I was a little too