She stood aside to let him enter and Seb walked in, instinctively leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead as he passed. It surprised him how easy it was to be affectionate with her.
Doesn’t surprise me, his bear rumbled in his mind.
Seb rolled his eyes at his animal’s inner dialogue.
“How are the injuries?” Clara asked.
Seb grinned and lifted up his shirt to reveal the dark pink scar that was gradually fading with each passing hour. “Nearly healed. The leg was worse, and the skin still feels a bit tight there, but it should be back to normal in another day or so.”
“I’m glad. And your friends?”
“They were fine,” Seb said. “A few minor injuries, but nothing serious. You met them this morning, Toby and Logan.”
Clara nodded. “I suspected as much.”
The faint aroma of cooking filled the air, a homely and inviting scent that immediately put him at ease. Clara led the way into the kitchen, and Seb couldn’t help but notice the way she moved around the space with ease, the rhythm of her actions painting the picture of someone who found comfort in the act of cooking. The kitchen was warm, filled with the rich scents of herbs and spices, creating an intimate ambiance.
“What are you cooking?” he asked, leaning against the counter, his eyes tracking her movements.
“Just some traditional Spanish paella,” Clara replied, stirring the pan gently. “I hope you like seafood.”
“I love it,” Seb said with a grin. “Need a hand?”
“Sure, you can chop these Chorizo sausages,” she said, handing him a knife and a cutting board with a suspicious glance. He accepted them with a smile and got to work. Clara watched what he was doing and pursed her lips.
He chuckled at her surprised expression. “I can handle a knife just fine. I grew up in a big family in Washington State. With five siblings, kitchen duties were a shared responsibility.”
“Five? Wow, that sounds lively. I was an only child. I split my time between Spain and the US. My mother is Spanish, so I got all the chores myself. Although I also got best of both worlds in terms of culture and food,” Clara shared, her voice tinged with nostalgia as she stirred the contents of the large pot on the stove.
Seb sliced the sausages carefully, all the time stealing glances at his mate. “That sounds amazing. Must have been quite an experience growing up in two different cultures.”
“It was,” she agreed, a distant look in her eyes. “It taught me a lot about adaptability. But being an only child could get lonelysometimes. That’s why I admire the chaos of big families like yours.”
Seb smiled, a warm feeling spreading through him as he spoke about his upbringing. “It was chaos, alright. But I loved it. We all did. Holidays were the best – loud, messy, but full of love.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
Their conversation flowed seamlessly as they continued to cook. Every now and then, their hands would ‘accidentally’ brush against each other, sending jolts of electricity through Seb’s body. He noticed the way Clara’s eyes lingered on him, a softness in them that made his heart skip a beat.
As she reached up to grab a spice from a high shelf, Seb instinctively stepped closer to help, their bodies pressing together for just a heartbeat. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes caught hers. She smiled, then grabbed the spice from under his reaching fingertips and whirled away with a mischievous grin. Seb laughed. She was competitive, like him, and he loved it—loved everything—about her. As he watched her, he groped for something to say that wasn’t an outright declaration of his love, what with this only being the third time they’d met.
“The food smells great,” Seb said. “And I’m impressed. Paella isn’t the easiest dish to make.”
She laughed, a sound that made Seb’s heart feel lighter. “Well, let’s hope I do it justice. My mother taught me, so I had a good teacher.”
As they talked and cooked, the kitchen filled with the rich aromas of saffron, paprika, and simmering seafood. Seb found himself drawn to Clara’s passion and skill, the way she talked about her family and her heritage with such fondness.
They sat down to eat, the table set simply yet elegantly. The paella was delicious, each bite a blend of flavors that spoke of Clara’s heritage and skill. Their conversation continued,punctuated by laughter and shared stories, each revelation bringing them closer together. Seb talked more about his family, the camping trips they took, and the pranks they played on each other. Clara listened intently, her eyes sparkling with amusement and interest.
“Sounds like you were quite the handful,” she teased, taking another bite of the paella.
Seb chuckled. “You have no idea. I was the youngest, so I got away with murder, but coming from a big family did teach me the value of teamwork and looking out for each other, qualities I never realized I’d need working for the CIA, but they turned out to been essential.”
Clara nodded, her expression turning thoughtful. “I can imagine. In my case, being an only child made me independent, but I sometimes regret I never got to have that kind of close-knit bond with siblings.”
Their dinner progressed in a comfortable rhythm, the layers of their initial caution gradually peeling away. The ‘accidental’ touches became more frequent, a silent language of attraction and connection.
After dinner, as they cleared the table together, their hands touched again, this time lingering. Seb looked into Clara’s eyes, seeing the same unspoken questions reflected in them. The air around them felt charged, the line between professional caution and personal desire blurring.
