Page 41 of Worth the Heat
He’s mine.
Holy shit.
He’s mine. Sebastian Garcia is mine. It’s like the heavens just opened up, shining every light known to man onto me as I have this epiphany. Why have I taken this long to realize this?
I look at Trace, who gives me a knowing look. “We’re closing early.”
He nods. “You cool if I take what you’ve got for our order fortomorrow? It’ll save our regular guy from driving out here to pick it up. I figure you’ll be up most of the night with Seb anyway, so you’ll want to come in later tomorrow.”
“What order?” I ask, confused.
Trace stares at me as his mouth drops open. “Oh, fuck. He’s really going to murder me now.”
I’m perplexed. I only have one order. RMRRMC.
Oh my fucking God.
My eyes closing, I keep my voice level and controlled as I ask Trace one question. “What’s the name of your MC club?”
“Shit,” he mutters.
“Tell me,” I demand.
“Rocky Mountain Range Riders MC,” he confesses. RMRRMC.
“I am going to murder him!” I hiss.
Trace puts up his hands in surrender. “Listen, I can’t let you actually kill the guy. He was trying to support you, and he knew you’d be pissed if he did it himself.”
“Your last statement is why he shouldn’t have done it in the first place!” I shout. Tearing into the kitchen, I grab my bag out of the safe, ushering Ava out. “Everyone, out. We’re closing early.”
A quick glance at the cute cupcake clock one of my brother’s gave me a few years ago tells me I’m only closing an hour early, which is fine with me. I push Trace out the door, stopping to flip my open sign to closed, then turn off the lights and close the door. Absolutely seething, I put out my hand. “Give me your keys.”
Trace has the decency to look guilty. “How am I supposed to get home?”
“Not my problem,” I say, thrusting my hand impatiently at him.
“You know what? No. I’m not giving you my keys. I drove you, so either get in the passenger seat, or you can walk home.” He looks at me defiantly, crossing his arms and widening his stance. Trace is moderately attractive, standing a couple of inches tallerthan Sebastian, but has a leaner build. Light brown hair with a slight curl to it, his blue eyes always light up with wickedness, like he knows a secret, but he’ll never say what it’s about. Worn blue jeans with holes in the knees flare slightly at the bottom, adjusting to his black combat boots, and the leather cut he wears covers a plain white tee-shirt. I bet he’s a wet dream to a lot of women.
But right now, he’s just pissing me off.
“Fine,” I tell him. “I will walk.”
“Jesus,” he moans. “Isabella, I can’t let you walk. Please. Just get in the damn truck.”
“Um, I can take her,” Ava offers, waving her keys at the two of us. I grin triumphantly at Trace.
“See? Problem solved. Send someone different tomorrow, Trace, because I’m likely to accidentally shove you in an oven,” I call out as I skip over to Ava.
“I’d like to see you try!” Trace yells back as he gets into his truck. Waiting for Ava and me to climb into her tiny two-door car, he motions for us to pull out first.
“Thank you, Ava. You’re a lifesaver. I want to throttle him right now, but I want to hurt Sebastian even more,” I grumble.
She giggles. “I thought it was pretty dreamy. Pretty romantic, right? How long have you had the Friday morning order? Didn’t you tell me it’s been a few years? He’s down bad for you, girl.”
“He could have been honest about it. Especially now. He told me he’d never lie to me, and that I could trust him. How is this trustworthy?” I ask.
Ava turns onto the main road heading out of Eternity Springs. “I don’t think this is a lie. For it to be a lie, you’d have to have asked him if he was behind the order, and he’d said no. Omission, yes. But it’s with your happiness in mind. He’s trying to support you any way that he can. Trace is right behind us. Do you want me to lose him?”
