Chapter 17 #2
“Jesus Christ,” Arianna mutters. “Listen. If you go downstairs and start talking about making cupcakes or cookies, she might think it’s odd.
Just walk downstairs and start coloring.
Ask her about her day. What her favorite animal is, or things she likes to play when she goes outside.
It isn’t rocket science, Bells. You’re overwhelmed right now, and definitely blowing this out of proportion, but it’s pretty amazing how you’re worried about his daughter’s opinion of you. ”
“Of course I am, you brat, I can’t marry him if she doesn’t love me too,” I snap, then gasp. Holy shit.
“Woah,” Arianna breathes. “Man. When you fall, you go down with a blaze of glory, don’t you? Crap. Bianca just dropped her glass of milk. I have to go. Good luck!”
I don’t register Arianna ending the call as I fall onto the bed, my phone dropping onto the bedding undetected.
Until this very moment, I’ve been able to stay in the present with Sebastian.
Why focus on a future that may not happen?
Besides, every other man has realized, for one reason or another, that they don’t want to be with me.
I guess I assumed Sebastian would end up doing the same thing.
Unbeknownst to my conscious mind, my heart has been busy making plans.
I knew I was in danger of falling for him.
But I’ve stayed well out of the part of my brain that thinks about long-term relationships and marriage.
I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to be married and have kids.
But Sebastian is slowly changing my hopes and dreams.
I take a handful of minutes to calm myself down before I leave the guest room.
Up until now, I would have referred to it as ‘my’ room, but now things are different, and I’m hoping Sebastian wants me to sleep in his room.
I don’t know the etiquette of that though, and the only person I can contact about it is Kate.
She lived with my brother Dominic before they married, but her circumstances were quite different than mine.
“Isabella! Are you coming to color?” Camila asks excitedly as I walk into the kitchen.
Sebastian sits at the table with a laptop, and — oh my fucking God — he’s wearing black-framed glasses.
With his hair in slight disarray, and a white tee-shirt covering his ample chest, he looks so distractingly virile and masculine. I may have just come.
“ Amor ? Are you okay?” he asks, a smirk on his face. He knows exactly why I’ve lost the ability to speak. He probably doesn’t even need glasses. “Close your mouth, sweetheart.”
God dammit. I’m really sitting here ogling the man in front of his daughter. Slamming my mouth shut, I clear my throat as I take a seat next to Camila. “I’m here to color. What are you working on?”
Camila launches into a long and winding tale about her favorite animal, which spirals into her dislike of a specific Disney movie about a dog and a fox, then ends with her telling me her favorite color is blue, but specifically the Elsa blue. “Not the other blues. Just the Elsa one.”
I do appreciate specifics.
“Can I ask you a question, Isabella?” Camila asks.
“Sure.”
“Why are you living with us?”
Way to be direct and blunt, kiddo. “Well, your dad is worried about my safety, so he asked if I would stay here.”
“Your safety?”
Sebastian closes his laptop and pushes it to the side. “There are some men who went into Isabella’s apartment when they shouldn’t have, and we aren’t sure why. So it’s safer for her to stay here right now. Plus I like having my favorite girls under the same roof.”
“Daddy,” Camila huffs, rubbing at a lock of hair that sits on her forehead. Without thinking, I reach over and brush it out of the way, tucking it behind her ear. “Thank you. Daddy didn’t braid my hair today. Abuelito did, and he’s awful at it.”
I laugh. I’m sure my dad would also be pretty bad at it, if forced to braid anyone’s hair. “I’m always braiding my own hair. Would you like me to take a go at yours?”
Camila’s eyes widen. “Yes! Do you think you can do one called a fishing rod braid?”
I swallow a laugh. “I think you mean fishtail braid, and yes. That’s one of my favorites. I do that all the time for work because I can’t have my hair down while I’m baking.”
Sebastian watches, his elbows on the table and one hand under his chin, as I take Camila’s long hair in my hands.
Her hair is absolutely gorgeous, and an exact shade match of his.
I make small talk as I go through the steps for a fishtail braid.
It’s slightly different when braiding on the hair in front of me, instead of behind my own head, but I quickly get the hang of it.
As soon as I announce that I’m done, Camila jumps from her chair and runs to the bathroom to see how it looks.
I hear her excited squeal, and she skips back to the table before launching herself into my arms. “Thank you! It looks so much better than what Daddy and Abuelito can do. Only Abuelita does as good on it. I wonder why? Do boys not have long hair ever?”
I laugh. “Some do. But most boys keep their hair short. I think it’s up to the owner of the hair how they’d prefer to keep the length.”
“I want to have hair down to my butt,” she says excitedly.
“My hair used to be that long. But it’s a lot of upkeep, and it got to be too much. This is the longest it’s been in a few years.” I take my own braid out, and run my fingers through my hair. I don’t miss the obvious darkening of Sebastian’s eyes as he stares wolfishly at me.
“You are both beautiful, no matter the length of your hair,” he says, his voice husky as he takes us in. “It’s time for me to start dinner. Which one of my girls wishes to help me?”
Camila sighs, crossing her arms over her chest as her bottom lip protrudes out in a pout. “ Abuelita made me help her last night, and I didn’t get any time on my tablet.”
Sebastian chuckles. “You’ve got thirty minutes, Mija . Looks like Isabella wins by default.”
“Yay!” Camila skips out of the room, jumping up each stair on the way to her room. I hear her door slam shut as I stand up.
“I actually enjoy cooking, so it’s not a problem for —” Sebastian interrupts me by grabbing my hand, yanking me toward him, then pushes me against the nearest wall.
His lips are on mine immediately, and I moan into his mouth.
I lift one leg, trying to get it around his waist, and he helps by lifting the other leg, settling my core against his in the most perfect way.
He kneads my ass with both hands as he kisses down my neck.
“How quiet can you be?” he murmurs as he lets his tongue dance across my collarbone.
“Sebastian!” I hiss. “Your daughter is upstairs!”
His head pops up. “I wasn’t exactly expecting us to fuck in my kitchen right this minute, mi Cielo , but I like how you think. I was more asking about how quiet you might be tonight. If my memory serves me correctly, you were pretty loud last night.”
“I was not that loud.”
“Yeah, baby, you were. In fact, when you did that thing where you just had to show me you could do a backbend off the bed while I was inside you, you screamed so loud I bet the guys at the Clubhouse heard you,” he teases, making me roll my eyes.
“I’m just saying I doubt I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself once we’re in bed. ”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want me in your bed,” I whisper, closing my eyes as I wait for his response.
“Eyes open, Isabella,” he commands, and I immediately open them to find him staring intently at me.
“Of course I fucking want you in my bed. I want you with me everywhere. If I could figure out how to move your bakery next to my bar, I’d do it, but I don’t think that would be close enough.
We’re finally on the same page, and I’ve got years of unrequited love built up that I’m dying to let out.
I will never want you in another room, another house, your old apartment, or across town. I. Want. You.”
A smile breaks across my face so fast it hurts. “I don’t want to be away from you either.”
“So you’re saying I can move your bakery?” he jokes.
“No, but you could move your bar. There’s a rumor that the guy who owns the distillery a few doors down from mine wants to retire,” I offer. “You could move, or open up a second location. ”
“That’s actually not a bad idea. I’d get to expand, and see you every day for lunch.”
“I usually work through lunch. The bakery is only open from seven to two.”
His brows raise. “I didn’t say anything about you eating. But if you’re willing to lock the door for ten minutes, I could certainly eat.”
“Sebastian!” I pause. “Only ten minutes?”
He leans in to kiss the tip of my nose. “Maybe fifteen, if you’re a good girl.”