Page 63 of Worth the Heat
He looks directly at me with a look so intense it makes my breath catch in my chest, and my heart rate increases quickly. He studies me for a minute before finally speaking. “It’s different becauseyou’re my forever.”
I’m at a loss for words as he walks out of the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind him.
Not too much later,I exit the en suite feeling relaxed and pruny. The only light Sebastian left on is the one by my side of the bed. I watch him as I cross the room, noting the slow way his chest rises and falls. He’s already asleep, and I’m able to study him. Sebastian is without a doubt the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. All put together, with his hair slicked back and his beard trimmed perfectly, he’s gorgeous. But this Sebastian, with hair in disarray and one arm slung haphazardly over his head, he’s breathtaking. He said he didn’t want anyone else to ever see me come, which I understand, because I never want anyone to see that either. But this version of Sebastian is so perfect, so exquisite, that I believe I would cut someone if they experienced it. This view is just for me.
I carefully climb into bed, after turning out the light, and hope I don’t wake Sebastian up. It’s moot, because the moment I settle my head onto the pillow, an arm clamps around my midsection, and I’m yanked into the middle of the bed, where Sebastian is the big spoon to my little spoon. He buries his head in my hair and lets out a sigh of contentment. I relax into his embrace, falling asleep almost instantly. I only vaguely remember hearing him whisper, “God, how I love you.”
Unfortunately,I was right about Camila. In the middle of the night, the pitter-patter of tiny feet woke me up. I opened my eyes to find her pitiful face. “I frew up.”
“Oh, baby,” I coo, chucking the comforter as I get to my feet.The smell hits me once I’m standing beside her. “I think you need another bath.”
She sniffles as she nods. “I didn’t make it to the potty.”
I follow Camila into her room, stopping on a dime when I realize Sebastian is still in bed. She came to me.
The aroma of fresh vomit permeates the air, and I quickly open her two windows. I motion for her to go into the attached Jack-and-Jill bathroom. “Go get undressed while I strip your bed.” I don’t usually do well with vomit, but this is Camila. She needs me.
Turning on the light, I survey the damage. Holy hell. It looks like an exorcism took place in here. How she got the puke on the wall six feet from her bed will be something she takes to the grave, because I’m not asking for a story. I gasp when I see her favorite unicorn plushy is soiled, knowing Camila cuddles with it every night. Poor girl. The vomiting probably woke her up from a dead sleep.
I quickly strip the bed, wad everything into a pile, and drop it into the hallway. I hear Camila calling me, and as I step into the bathroom, she vomits again. I softly stroke her back as she gets it all out, then usher her into the shower. “Why did I frew up?”
Could it be any cuter how she pronounces that? “It’s throw up, honey. And it means there are germs in your tummy that your body wants to get out of there as quickly as it can. Your tummy will be back to normal soon.”
Her disgruntled expression makes me hide a smile. “Well, I don’t like frowing up. And I got it on my unicorn. How am I gonna sleep without her?”
Tears immediately start, and a horrifying wail leaves her mouth. A moment later, Sebastian runs into the bathroom. “What happened?”
“She threw up.” I tilt a cup I found on the shelf, onto the back of her head. Camila quiets down as I begin to slowly shampoo herhair. “I’ve stripped the bed, but it needs new sheets. Also the wall across from the bed needs to be cleaned. We need to check the carpet between the wall and bed as well.”
“Violent puking runs in my family.” Sebastian says it so matter-of-factly that I let out a laugh. “I’m serious. I thought it was just a me thing, but she does it too. It’s like that scene fromThe Exorcist.”
“Daddy, I don’t like frowing up, but Isabella shampoos my hair so much better than you,” Camila says clearly, her eyes closed as my fingers massage her scalp. Sebastian lets out a laugh.
“I’ll handle the bed. You get our girl all cleaned up,” he says. When my head whips around to stare at him, he gives me a sly smirk and a wink before tapping on the door frame as he walks out.
Ourgirl.
Sebastian Garcia has a way of leaving me speechless.
SEBASTIAN
“Her name is Berkley St. James. She’s from a very wealthy family in Boulder, but she’s gotten mixed up with a rough crowd. Probably due to boredom if I had to guess,” Trace tells me the following morning about the girl who claimed her name was Jenna at the book club last night. Trace wouldn’t even talk about it until he’d walked around the office at my bar with a weird contraption that looked like a walkie talkie, but with a swirled wire on the top. When I asked what it was, and how much it cost, his response was, “It’s scanning the room for listening devices or cameras. Basically anything that emits a wireless signal. And since it’s not technically on the market for regular consumers to purchase, you probably don’t want to know the price.”
I probably don’t.
I stare bleakly at him as I yawn and rub a hand over my beard. Camila threw up three more times overnight, and only one of those times did she make it to the toilet. It was a pleasant surprise to see how Isabella jumped into action, never shying away from my daughter with her projectile abilities. What shocked me to my core was how Camila gravitated toward Isabella.
I thought maybe Camila had tried to wake me up, and that maybe I was in a deep sleep. When I asked her, she said, “Daddy, Idon’t have to wake you every time I frow up now, cuz Isabella is here.”
I’m not complaining about her connecting with Isabella by any means, but I certainly didn’t think it would happen so quickly.
And with puke.
Whatever the case, Isabella decided to stay home from work today, leaving the bakery in the hands of her psychotic employee, Ava. She’s made comments to Trace about taking a ride on his Harley, but with the suggestive undertones and the nonstop winking, clearly she has a different ride in mind. Trace is legitimately scared of her, using the very evident age difference as the main reason he plans to stay away from Ava.
So, when I left this morning to meet my guys at the Clubhouse and then head to my bar, Isabella and Camila were cuddled up in our bed, sound asleep and holding hands. I snapped a picture and made it my phone background. It’s everything I have ever wanted in one picture.
Knowing my girls are safe in our home, I’m finally able to fully focus on tracking down the douchebags who had the nerve to come after Isabella. “Does Berkley have a connection to Isabella’s ex?”
