"My ex… we broke up last week. I was with him—"
"For four years?"
"Yeah."
"You leave him or he leave you?"
"I left him, but that's not relevant." Her eyes meet mine. "We were both rolling around that bed. We were both out of breath. You were… ahem." Her cheeks turn bright red. She takes a slow breath and pushes through her words. "Is that going to be a problem?"
"Is it a problem for you?"
"No."
"Tangled is complicated. It needs somebody with a vision. Somebody who would rather lose her job than put out shitty work. It probably shouldn't be a single, but I was outvoted."
"You can be outvoted?"
"Democracy means I only get one vote." I stare back into her eyes. "I wouldn't trust anyone else to get the song."
Slowly, she nods. Her lips curl into a smile. "Okay. I'll direct your video." She offers her hand. "After you pay me for the edit."
I take her hand and shake.
Her eyes stay on mine.
Her cheeks flush.
I'm fucking glad Lacey is taking this offer.
But suddenly I'm more concerned with her question.
It is a problem that I want to fuck her.
A fucking huge problem.
6
Mal
Several hours and three no, we don't want desserts later, Lacey and I have a few concepts for the video.
Written up.
On her laptop.
Complete with sketches done in Paint.
Using the trackpad.
Fuck, I never thought I'd meet anyone who could top Ethan in the energetic, excitable perfectionist clearly meant to do their job category, but Lacey might take that crown.
Her brown eyes are bright. She's tapping her toes against the ground, running her words together at a volume completely inappropriate for a restaurant this nice.
She taps a note onto her keyboard. "I think this concept is it, but I get the whole democracy, we all have to agree thing."
"You should pitch it."
Her eye go wide. "To the band?"