Page 97 of Wild Tangled Hearts

I take a bite of the meat, savoring the flavors. “Well, I can see where Sebastian gets his cooking skills.”

Sebastian grunts. “His ego doesn’t need anymore inflating.”

“I think you’re worried about the wrong Sinclair,” James says, his eyes narrowing as he focuses on his son. “My ego is fully in check. I’m not the one driving himself into an early grave.”

Sebastian’s gaze shifts, a hint of tension in the room. “You know that’s not why I’ve worked so hard.”

James leans back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “Then why don’t you share with us the real reason?”

Sebastian’s nostrils flare, his gaze filled with anger as a non-verbal conversation unfolds between him and his father. Tensions mount, and the atmosphere in the room becomes charged with unspoken words. It’s clear there are deeper issues at play, ones that have long simmered beneath the surface.

With a frustrated sigh, Sebastian pushes his chair back abruptly, the scraping sound echoing through the room, and he storms out of the kitchen. I instinctively start to rise, intending to follow him, but James holds up a hand, his expression stern.

“Let him go,” James says, his voice gentle but firm. “He needs space when he gets like that.”

I sit back in my chair, torn between wanting to support Sebastian and respecting his father’s wishes.

James leans forward slightly, his eyes fixed on mine. “What has Seb told you about our family?”

I meet his gaze steadily. “I know about Toby and the Cystic Fibrosis. And I know about your wife...how she died,” I tell him. “I know you both have experienced a lot of heartbreak.”

A deep sadness flickers across James’ eyes, and he nods slowly. “Yes, we have,” he says quietly. “Life has a way of throwing challenges at you when you least expect it.”

I can sense the weight of those challenges in the lines etched on his face and the weariness in his voice.

“You’re worried about him?” I ask softly, my concern mirroring his.

“He works too hard, and he’s a stubborn ass.” James sighs, weariness clear in his posture as he scrubs his hands over his face. “But he’s a good man.”

“Funny,” I say, “he said the same thing about you.”

James grunts and then nods toward the window, drawing my attention to Sebastian, who’s outside chopping wood with determined vigor. His muscular form moves rhythmically, each swing of the axe echoing through the air.

“You better go to him,” he says.

I step outside, the sound of the wood chopping growing louder as I approach Sebastian. He stops when he sees me.

“What did he say to you?” his voice is gruff, gaze piercing, and yet there’s a vulnerability in his expression as he searches my face.

“He’s worried you work too hard, and...” I move toward him and place my hands on his chest. “He thinks you’re a stubborn ass.”

Sebastian chuckles, the sound warm and genuine, and leans down to kiss me. The world seems to fade as our lips meet, the intensity of our connection momentarily overpowering any lingering tensions.

When we finally break the kiss, Sebastian looks into my eyes and says softly, “I’m sorry for storming out. My dad has a way of getting under my skin.”

I smile and brush a lock of hair from his forehead. “It’s okay, Seb. We all have our moments.”

“Seb?” he asks, raising a brow.

“I heard your dad call you that. I like it.”

He grunts, his lips brushing mine softly. “I don’t mind when you say it.”

“And I don’t mind watching you chop wood. That was pretty sexy.”

“Really?” Sebastian raises an eyebrow, his lips curving into a teasing smile.

I wrap my arms around his neck, drawing closer, and whisper against his lips, “I could get used to lumberjack Seb.”

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