The Scandal (Billionaire's Beach Book 4) - Christie Ridgway Page 0,72

think of Nueva Vida like that?

And when was Sara returning?

Why had she needed time, away? Embarrassment over that little slip-of-the-tongue after sex? He’d admit that upon waking up the next morning the memory had spooked him a little. But he’d dismissed it readily enough.

Neither of them was into the love thing. What she’d meant to communicate was that she loved what happened when their bodies came together.

But her continued absence and cell phone silence—she wasn’t responding to texts either—annoyed him. As well as seeing her pretty face splashed on the pages of those lurid tabloids. He needed to get to the bottom of that, too.

Ethan Archer appeared on his deck, and Joaquin hurried through the back doors to join him. Maybe a late afternoon run with the other man would put his world back to rights.

It remained awry, however. Ethan professed not to know anything about the missing butler except to affirm she wasn’t hanging with Charlie at his place.

“How’d you manage to lose Sara?” the other man asked, his frown signaling disapproval.

“I didn’t lose her,” he growled, pissed at the implication and the tiny spurt of panic at the idea. He’d had enough fucking loss in his life. “She’s taking some time off. But she could be a big help with Essie.”

“Problem with your sister?”

“She’s a teenager.” While the girl had seemed cheerful in the morning, her mood deteriorated as the day went on. There’d been mutterings about wanting to attend another beach party, too, which her parents had forbidden. “Don’t wish that state on your boy Wells any sooner than it comes, I tell you.”

As they wound their way around a half-built castle on the sand, Ethan chuckled. “I’ve heard that before.”

Joaquin dodged a kid racing to the water with his skim board held like a shield. “I don’t know why people procreate.”

“You can’t see yourself as a dad?”

“Mine sucked.”

“Genes have nothing to do with it, though.” Ethan swiped at the sweat on his brow. “My wife couldn’t have kids, so we adopted Wells. Our feelings for him have nothing to do with whether our blood runs through his veins. You could be a good family man yourself, even though your father failed in that regard.”

“Yeah, I get that intellectually—I actually was adopted myself as a teen by a good guy. It’s just that I’ve never seen myself…”

His voice trailed off as his gaze caught on a woman up ahead. About the size and shape of Sara. Blonde hair. There was a toddler on one hip, and she gripped the hand of another. And the image—

His world definitely wasn’t right if he was morphing the butler into a mama and warming to the thought.

“Let’s talk about craft beers,” he told the other man as they passed the small family group. “Baseball. Or…”

On its own, his head turned and he once more checked out the blonde. A smiling man had joined their happy unit.

“Kids are fun. They signify hope.” Ethan glanced over. “And they’re a reason to get up in the morning.”

Which reminded Joaquin the other man was a widower. He’d lost his wife. Loss.

Where the hell was the missing butler, and why had she left him?

At the end of the run his world was still fucked up. First he showered. Next he poked around the freezer and located a casserole he could heat up for dinner once Essie made an appearance. Then he wandered about the silent house.

It occurred to him that this was exactly what he’d expected to find when he left Portland for Malibu. Quiet and his own company. But now it didn’t feel restful as he’d expected.

Because the house was too big, he decided. That’s why he’d told Martin he planned to sell Nueva Vida. The house and grounds were meant to be shared—by that traditional family unit he’d run past on the beach, for example—and not occupied by an entrenched, antisocial bachelor.

Crossing to the cookie jar on the kitchen counter, he fumbled for a handful of treats and walked onto the deck to stare out over the ocean, the sun beginning its descent toward the horizon. Fine. He could admit he’d miss the food and he’d miss the spectacular view and he’d miss Sara’s touches that made this place feel like home. But again—too big. Too much for one unattached man because all the extra room required help tending the place—hello, butler—and encouraged others—ah-hem, Essie—to elbow in, and the next thing you knew, you’d be relying on them and caring for them and worrying