in the family, it had all imploded before Joaquin made it beyond a commercial or two, a couple of episode credits as “Sassy Neighbor Kid,” and that one brief appearance on the big screen.
“And now I’m a businessman,” he continued. “Charity fun run record-keeping is out of my realm of expertise.”
Sara gave a short nod.
How did she do it? Without a word or change in expression she managed to communicate disapproval. Did they teach that at the fancy butler academy?
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s possible I need to get out of the office on a regular basis,” he muttered.
She strolled forward. “Your assistant says you need to take more vacations.”
“What?” Joaquin hurried to catch up.
“He’s a chatterer—you must be aware of that. During one of our discussions after he hired me, he said you worked too hard and didn’t enjoy yourself or other people enough.”
Frowning, Joaquin forked a hand through his hair. “I can’t wait to analyze Patrick to his butler some day. I’ll point out he’s a loudmouth busybody in order to compensate for some truly off-putting psychotic disorder…do you happen to know of any?”
That got him the real smile. It hit him like sunshine beaming from behind a cloud, and the sunshine was already beaming from the cloudless sky, hot on his shoulders. This extra ray of heat jolted through him, and he had to force himself not to reach out and yank her rosebud mouth to his.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be quite so miffed with him,” Sara said. “As your butler, it’s my duty to find ways to make your life easier. I didn’t look askance at the offered information.”
Askance. How could that single word in that crisp voice so twist his crank?
He caught her shoulder, turned her to him. “You say that kind of thing in that tone on purpose,” he accused softly. “You want me to do something we’ll both regret.”
The butler froze in his hold for a moment, then stepped back.
Good.
“Regret?” she echoed.
As she repeated the word, they came back to him in a sudden rush. The fucking regrets. The ones that had haunted him for fifteen years and made him a man best suited to stay in an office and stay away from his family and other people, too. The fucking regrets that crawled out of their grave in May until at the end of the month he and Mick could together silently bury them for another year.
It’s too soon, he thought, as they crowded around him, blocking the sun and making it hard to breathe. I’m not ready to confront them yet.
“Joaquin?” From far away came Sara’s voice.
Her cool hand brushed his forearm, and at the touch the ghosts evaporated. Pop. Gone. Of course he knew they’d be back.
“Joaquin?”
He blinked, taking in her upturned face. She’d tugged the sunglasses down her nose so he could see the concern in her beautiful eyes. The desire to kiss her had moved off. The need to hold her against him had not.
“You’re here!”
Once again, their moment was interrupted by a six-year-old.
“Thanks, kid,” he said under his breath, and dredged up a smile for Wells, his gratitude sincere. “How are you? Ready to run?”
“Yep. The first graders go next.”
With the boy leading, they drew nearer to the makeshift track. Little kids of the same small size bunched near the parents handing out waters—apparently the starting line.
“Hydrate,” Sara advised, handing him one of the paper cups.
“Don’t start too fast,” Joaquin added. “Save some energy for later.”
The other butler, Charlie, stayed with the standing parents, but he and Sara took seats among some other spectators, a few feet away and a safe distance from a water balloon toss. They watched the little boy jog around the oblong, his face serious.
“I’m glad to know he doesn’t have a shitty father,” Joaquin said.
“Your dad…?”
“Selfish. Stupid. I can’t blame my mother for leaving him. In the end, he drove his car drunk into a tree. The only good deed he ever accomplished was not taking someone else out with him that night.”
A long pause ensued, then Sara cleared her throat. “My parents had a whirlwind romance when he and a mate came to the States for vacation. In five days they were married, in seven they were back in London, and she found a job at a neighboring estate. Nine months later, I came along. Four years following that, she left my dad after their umpteenth argument. Then she caught a terrible case of pneumonia and died. ”
She paused.