Mr Garcia

He looks edible, and he smells fucking delicious.

"Hi," I smile.

He kisses me, "Hey," he takes my hand and holds it out to look me up and down.

I'm wearing tight, light blue jeans, and a navy fitted blazer with a white T-shirt underneath.

"You look gorgeous," he says.

I smile, knowing he's never seen me in casual clothes, either. "Thanks."

I hear the garage door begin to open again, and Kevin's car starts to back up. Or is that Sebastian's car? Fuck, I don’t even know. It's like I’m in a spy film or something around here."

"Did I interrupt your night?" Sebastian turns me toward him.

I put my arms around his neck. "No, I was waiting for your call."

He drops his hands to my behind. "Oh, you were, were you?"

"Yeah."

Our lips meet again. He takes my hand and leads me down the hall until we get to the living area.

My heart skips a beat.

Fuck, this house. It’s full on luxury.

It's old but perfectly restored. I think back to when it would have been a huge mansion. Who am I kidding? It’s a huge mansion today. I don’t remember anything about it from the first time I was here, only the street outside. Although I only came in the front door and stayed in the foyer.

The ceilings are sky high with beautiful thick curtains draped over the windows. The walls are a warm cream, and the furnishings look like antiques. There is a huge, deep red rug that sits beneath a dark leather sofa.

My eyes roam around the space. I don’t think I've ever been in such a beautiful home.

"Sebastian. Your house is…"

He puts his hands into the pockets of his track pants and looks around as if he’s trying to see it through my eyes for the first time. "I like it."

I smile and run my finger over the beautiful, mahogany cabinet. I really should try to act a little cool here, but I can't even pretend that I’m not in awe.

"Would you like a drink?" he asks.

I nod. "Yes, please."

He turns and walks down a corridor. I tentatively follow, and when we get out into the open, I am floored by what I see.

The back of the house opens up to a huge kitchen and glass living room. It’s modern out here. The walls are white, light, and airy. The furniture is all lighter, too, and the couches are a cream color. There is a large, sandstone open fireplace with a chimney that goes all the way to the ceiling.

My mouth falls open. "What the hell?" My eyes fly to his.

A trace of a smile crosses his face, and I can tell he's happy with my reaction. "I added this part of the house."

I smile as I point at him. "Because you’re an architect."

He chuckles and dips his head. "What do you want to drink?" He walks into the kitchen that’s white with marble counter tops.

"What are you having?" I ask.

He opens the fridge and peers in with a frown and then closes it again. "I might a have a glass of red."

I glance over to the white couch, knowing that this is a disaster waiting to happen.

I'm a clumsy oaf.

"Okay." I pull out a stool and sit at the counter. We are so sitting over here.

Sebastian turns his back to me to open the bottle over the sink. My eyes drop to his muscular physique. His olive forearms have thick veins coursing up them. I can see the ripples in his shoulders under his T-shirt, and his behind is tight and perky. Christ on a cracker, this man is delicious.

"How old are you?" I ask.

He fills my glass. "Too old for you."

"How old is too old?"

"I'm forty-three."

I frown. He’s older than I thought. "And you live here alone?"

"Yes." He passes me the glass of wine, and I take a sip. "This is good."

He smirks and clicks his glass with mine. "Life is too short for bad wine."

I bite my bottom lip to stop myself smiling at him like a fan girl, everything that comes out of his mouth just sounds fucking fantastic. "It is."

He sips his wine. "How old are you?"

"Thirty-one."

He nods. "You never told me you were married."

I get the feeling I'm here for an interview of some sort. "I was before we met the first time."

"And?"

"It was the biggest disappointment of my life."

His eyes hold mine. "Why?"

I shrug. "Walking in on the love of your life having sex with another woman isn’t exactly great."

His brow furrows. "What kind of fucking idiot would cheat on you?"

I smile, grateful for his kind words. "The asshole kind, apparently."

He sips his wine and falls into thought.

There's a scratch at the back door, and he gets up to open it. An old, brown dog waddles in. He has a curly coat and is a little overweight. I smile and jump from my stool.