muscles strung tight.
“You’re right, of course,” Renata said. “And I can’t try to un-do the past now.”
Joaquin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m having a rough day. Give me a second to smooth out.”
“I’m sorry for that, too.”
He looked up. “No, that’s on me. I take responsibility for my own screw-ups.”
“No, Joaquin.” His mother shook her head, this time tears springing into her eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“We both know I did.” He held her gaze and there was no missing that silent messages were being sent back and forth.
“No,” she repeated.
The stare down continued for several more moments. Then Essie, who had been uncommonly quiet during the exchange between mother and son, scooted out her chair and jumped to her feet. “I have this party I need to get to. May I be excused?”
Renata’s attention snapped to her daughter. “What party?”
“A beach party. Everybody I know is going.”
Martin frowned. “Esmerelda, I don’t think so.”
His daughter’s mouth pursed, and temper kindled in her eyes. “Teenagers need independence and a social life. There are studies.”
“No, Essie.”
“But Zachary will be at the party. This is his first night home, and I want to see him.”
“He can come here,” Martin said, his tone reasonable.
“He doesn’t want to come here. He wants to go to the beach, and so do I.”
“Well, this is our first night home too and—”
“That’s not fair!” Essie protested
Then parents and child entered into a teenage angst-fueled skirmish. Joaquin looked at Sara, Sara looked back, and as one they escaped around the corner to the kitchen, leaving the battle behind.
At the island, they huddled over generous slices of cake.
“Better now?” she asked him as he chewed his first bite.
“I can be an ass.”
“You don’t say.”
He shot her a tepid grin. “Saucy wench.”
As he took up another bite, she studied him. Definitely tired. Definitely stressed. Definitely in the painful grip of something that tore at him.
Was this love that made his hurt tug at her own heart?
Of course it was. Sara sighed. She should have known she couldn’t order herself out of the feeling. All the songs, the stories, and the movies were apparently right. Love didn’t listen to sense, reason, or rules.
Even those stated in plain black and white in the Continental Butler Academy’s classic textbook.
Chapter 12
Later that night, Joaquin rapped his knuckles on the door to the butler’s quarters. It swung open an inch to reveal one bright blue eye. He lifted the plate holding a slab of chocolate cake in its line of vision without saying a word.
The gap between door and jamb widened in an instant.
His butler frowned at him, her brows almost meeting over her small straight nose. “More chocolate cake?”
“For you. And I thought it was carob.”
“And I notice there are two forks.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
Joaquin leaned his shoulder against the jamb. “You didn’t eat much of your other slice. I didn’t want to chance any of this piece going to waste.”
“Why are you here, Joaquin?”
He hesitated, frowning, as his gaze ran over her figure. “Are those pajamas?”
She glanced down at the light cotton garments, designed like something a little boy might wear. “What else would they be?”
“I’ve never seen anything like them. They’re printed with teapots and—” he leaned closer “—are those flying pieces of toast?”
Sara’s cheeks turned pink. “The set is a present from Emmaline.”
“Cute. So can I come in?”
“Joaquin, your mother and Martin…”
“It will only take a few minutes.” He’d talked with the older couple and then Essie, only to realize he wouldn’t sleep unless he spoke with Sara too. “Please.”
On a sigh, she stepped back. The space was lowly lit by a lamp on the bureau. He moved inside and slipped the plate onto the small table beside the bed. As he glanced at the turned down sheets, a wave of exhaustion washed over him. Was it only last night that they’d rolled around there?
Suddenly, it was too much effort to cross to the loveseat or even continue standing, so he dropped to the edge of the mattress. Sara stayed where she was, and he took a closer look at her. Was that unhappiness lurking in those big blue eyes? “You seemed off earlier. Is something the matter?”
She blinked, then looked away. “You seemed off, too.”
“Yeah. Well, that’s why I’m here. To explain myself.”
“Oh?”
He patted the bed beside him. “Sit down.”
Her approach was wary. Her perch on the mattress hesitant.
“I’m not going to pounce,” he said, then smiled. “Yet.”
She didn’t smile back.
He sighed. “Okay.