Chapter 8 #2
I hear a rustling and the jingle of the bell on the front door of the bakery. “Look, Seb, she’s fine. Business as usual. Seems like only regulars have come in today, and definitely not the douche who had her by the throat earlier. But you gotta calm the fuck down. ”
I find myself growling as I grip the wooden bar beneath my hand so tightly my knuckles turn white.
I reply back with every ounce of sarcasm and snark I can find in the depths of my body.
“Look, Trace , I’ll react any fucking way I want to when we’re talking about my woman’s safety, and you don’t get to tell me to act otherwise. ”
“Yours, huh?” he says with a laugh. “She know about that?”
Fuck. “Not exactly.”
“You know, I may be more single than you, but I’m fairly sure that it’s frowned upon to keep women in the dark about their own relationships.”
“She’s not in the dark.” I pause, wondering just how far gone Isabella really knows I am for her. “Maybe she’s mostly not in the dark.”
Trace snorts. “How is that any different?”
“It’s a work in progress. She’s like a baby deer, and I’m scared she’ll either get spooked and run, or …”
“Get run over by a car,” he finishes.
“Something like that,” I mutter. “I’ve had a lot more time to think about a relationship with her. I don’t think she’s ever really believed that I’ve had a thing for her.”
“Why?” he asks incredulously.
My brows furrow as I contemplate how to explain my thoughts.
Why is Isabella so surprised at my interest?
Why has she turned me down every time I’ve asked her out?
Did she really think it was a bet with her brothers?
It can’t be that. All of her siblings know about my feelings, so why hasn’t she believed any of them?
“I honestly don’t know. I’m not sure if she’s lost trust in all men, or if she’s wary of just me.
Maybe she thinks it’s a fun time for me, but she doesn’t understand I’m playing the long game here.
So I’m patient. Gonna wait her out, show her that I’m a guy she can trust.”
Trace is silent, and when I’m about to joke that he’s being too quiet for my liking, I hear a bunch of noise as he blurts out, “I’ll call you back.”
“What? Why? Did something happen? Trace? Fuck!” I pull the phone away from my ear to see he’s ended the call. My heart rate shoots through the roof as I grab my keys and take off running. Shoving open the door to my bar, I’m almost to my car when my phone vibrates with an incoming call.
“I’m fine, don’t freak out. It’s fine. I’m fine,” Isabella says breathlessly.
“What happened?” I shout as my feet slide on gravel in the parking lot.
I hear another commotion as the phone jostles between hands before Trace answers me. “I heard a crash, then Isabella shrieked. A cabinet fell off the wall.”
“A cabinet fell off? How the fuck does that happen?” I ask.
“Well, from what I can see, there don’t appear to be suitable brackets holding up any of the upper level cabinetry in here, and —” Trace abruptly stops, and I hear Isabella murmuring in the background, “— and she just admitted she’s known about the cabinets needing to be replaced, but hasn’t had the money to do so. ”
“You know what I’m about to say,” I state.
“Yup. Limits?”
“None. Whatever the fuck it takes to make that the safest damn kitchen in the entire state.”
“Got it. You want to talk to your girl?”
“Yes.”
I hear her mutter, “I’m not his girl,” and both Trace and I reply in unison, “yes you are.”
“What?” Isabella snaps as she takes the phone back from Trace.
“Are you alright?” I ask quietly.
“How do you mean? ”
“Did anything hit you, mi Cielo ? Are you hurt?”
She sighs, her voice noticeably softer. “No, nothing hit me. I’m fine.”
“Physically, yes. But I imagine it frightened you.”
“A large cabinet coming at me? Yes, Sebastian, I was a little unprepared for that.”
“Anything broken in the cabinet? Dishes? Glassware?” I ask, as I slowly walk back into the bar. My bartender looks at me quizzically, after watching me bolt only moments before, but I don’t acknowledge him. Heading into my office, I grab my tablet and Google bakery necessities.
“A bunch of cheap plates. Nothing too important …” she trails off. “Sebastian, what are you doing?”
“Hmm?”
“Right now. Right this very second. What are you doing?” she asks impatiently. I can almost imagine one hand on her hip, tapping a foot in aggravation.
“I’m at my bar. Doing inventory things this week,” I answer innocently.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I’m sitting at my desk in my office.”
“And you’re not doing anything else? Like looking up the cost of cabinetry, or buying me replacement plates?”
“I’m not buying anything right now.” I’m adding a ton to a cart on a wholesale restaurant website, but again, she hasn’t asked that specifically.
“Don’t you dare replace this kitchen, Sebastian,” Isabella says loudly.
“Do you really see me as the type to hang cabinets?” I tease.
“I think you can do almost anything you put your mind to, and being a knight in shining armor is absolutely up your alley,” she replies.
“You see me as your knight, Mami ?” I coo, knowing I’m effectively redirecting her. “Unrelated question. Are you attracted to men in knight costumes?”
“Sebastian,” she sighs in exasperation, but I can hear a smile in her tone.
“I’ll have you know, I look good in silver.”
“Your modesty knows no limits,” she replies, deadpan. “Women must line the streets, just trying to get a piece of you.”
“Don’t fucking care about any of that, sweetheart,” I answer huskily. “I only want you.”