Page 28 of Worth the Heat
“Abuela!” Sebastian shouts in frustration. “English!”
“No, it’s not the same thing,” I answer with a chuckle. “But I took eight years of Spanish growing up. I may not know everything you say, but I can get the gist of it.”
Except for the different terms of endearment Sebastian keeps tossing my way, it seems. As if reading my mind, he leans over to whisper, “You just wanted to hear me call you a queen in English, huh.”
I feel heat flush across my cheeks. “I actually didn’t know that one. And there’s another one you said, but I don’t think I heard you right, because it sounded like you called me an orange?”
Sebastian clears his throat, rubbing at his beard. “Oh, must have heard me incorrectly then.”
“Sebastian!” Gabriela, says with a gasp. “Really?”
“Mamá,” he murmurs, and I find myself smiling at the way he looks at his mother. “Drop it, please.”
“For now,” Gabriela replies, but I see the glint in her eyes.Whatever this is about, Gabriela Garcia does not plan on dropping it. “Isabella, I planned to make dinner for us. Is there anything you’re allergic to, or don’t like?”
“No. I love food,” I tell her with a smile.
“Isabella,” Sebastian growls. “We just talked about this.”
“What?” I ask, my eyes dancing between mother and son. “That wasn’t a dig at my weight, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I just really love food. I love trying new recipes, getting to experience new cultures. I love learning how recipes are passed down, and how people create dishes within their families. I honestly love experiencing new things in the kitchen. Really.”
Sebastian watches me, a soft smile growing as he listens. “Is that how you began to bake?”
“Some of it, yes. My mom and grandmother have taught me things, but as soon as they realized I was enamored with baking, they encouraged me to learn however I could. My family always supported my desire to be a pastry chef, and as a child, I took any cooking class I could find. I can cook anything, but my true love is pastries.”
“Have you ever madetembleque?” Rosario asks.
“No, I’m not sure what that is,” I confess.
“It’s a coconut pudding, but it has a texture like …” Rosario trails off, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Comó se dice gelatina?”
“Jello,” Sebastian answers with a grin.
“Ahh, yes,” Rosario says with a nod. “I show you how to make.”
“Uh, now?” I ask.
“No. Now we makearroz con pollo, because Camila asked for it.” Rosario stands, grabbing Camila’s hand. “We’ll let the lovebirds talk.”
“What’s a lovebird?” Camila asks as she follows her greatgrandmother into the kitchen. “Wait! Daddy, the kitten is in my room! Go see!”
Sebastian looks at me and sighs. “I really don’t want a kitten.”
“Are you prepared to tell her that?” I ask pointedly.
“No,” he says with a chuckle. “Any chance you’d be willing to take one for the team?”
“I’m not part of that team, Daddy,” I tease, my voice accidentally dropping quite a bit. I step toward the stairs, but Sebastian wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me against his front.
“If you don’t want to continue calling me Daddy, I suggest you figure out a way to say it without that sexy as fuck rasp,mi Cielo,” he whispers against my ear. “Better yet, you can call mePapi. Now get your ass upstairs.”
Daddy Sebastian does have a nice ring to it, though I’ll never tell him that. ButPapi? Why is that so sexy?
SEBASTIAN
With every passing day, I can feel Isabella’s walls slowly crumbling away. I’m not exactly thrilled with what — or who — has brought us closer together, but I’m not mad about it either.
It’s been a little over a week of Isabella living in my home, and while her apartment has been completely fixed up, wired with every fucking security measure I could get my hands on, and ready for her return, neither of us have brought it up. She hasn’t come back into my bedroom again, but I’ve left my door open just in case.
