The Scandal (Billionaire's Beach Book 4) - Christie Ridgway Page 0,35

direction, Sara struggled with her own next move.

Wait here for Joaquin to come home, or…

Stop worrying, she ordered herself. He’s a grown man. Go to bed.

But despite the command, she stalled, taking the time to fold a blanket the girls had snuggled under and then to gather up some empty glasses. When she turned toward the kitchen with them, she saw Essie descending the steps.

“Oh.” She took in the teen’s downcast expression. “Did you need something?”

“The movie might not have been my brightest idea,” Essie said, looking about the room. “Joaquin’s still not back?”

“Not yet. But I’m sure he’ll return soon.” Sara resisted sending her own worried glance into the darkness.

“Do you think he’ll be mad at me?”

“Of course not.” Sara set the glasses on a nearby side table and approached the girl. “I’m sure he just needed a breath of fresh air.”

Essie twirled a lock of hair around one finger. “I suppose he hasn’t seen it in a while—New Kid.”

“Perhaps not. And…” Sara hesitated.

Though she’d gleaned a little, the full history of the two brothers and the circumstances of the older one’s death remained a mystery to her. She’d joked with Joaquin about keeping the household’s secrets, but she didn’t think it was right to solicit them. On the other hand, how could she ease the girl’s concerns without a little more light on the subject?

“Essie—”

“I just want to get to know them better!” she burst out. “I’ve only seen Joaquin a few times in my life, and Felipe was gone when I was a baby.”

The plaintive note in her voice twisted Sara’s heart. Oh, this was why she should have gone to bed right away. A butler was supposed to keep that professional distance. But right now it seemed impossible.

“You look like him,” she said. “Felipe, I mean.”

Essie brightened at that. “You think?”

“I do. You both have the same pretty eyes and smile.”

The girl ducked her head. “My mother says the same.”

“She should know.”

This time Essie made a face. “She’s right about hardly anything.”

Sara suppressed a small laugh. “I think it’s natural to feel that way when you’re sixteen.”

Essie’s eyebrows rose. “Is that how you felt?”

“My mom died when I was five. I barely remember her…and probably those memories are just based on photographs I’ve seen.”

“I never met Felipe, but I still miss him. Is that weird?”

“I miss my mom, too, though she’s so hazy in my mind,” Sara admitted. “I think we can miss what could have been almost as much as a person.”

Essie sighed and her gaze drifted toward the door through which her other brother had disappeared. “Joaquin left his phone, you know.”

“Yes.” It sat on the table near where he’d been sitting.

“Should I go out and look for him?” Essie asked.

And double her worry? “No,” Sara said in her firmest voice. “Go up and do Lulu’s nails. Isn’t that what she told you she wanted?”

“And for me to bring up the licorice vines,” Essie said, a grin signaling a mercurial mood change. She skipped toward the container and tucked it under her arm. “’Night, Sara.” Her feet paused at the bottom of the stairs and she cast a look over her shoulder from those beautiful liquid-brown eyes she shared with her oldest brother. “And thanks.”

Sara nearly crossed to give the teen a hug, but drew her Continental Butler Academy dignity around her instead. Professional distance! “You’re very welcome.”

Then she watched the teen start to climb. As the girl turned on the landing, Sara moved to re-collect the glasses. In the kitchen, she took a final look around. Everything in place, not a crumb to be seen. She flipped off the ceiling lights and flipped on the ones that glowed beneath the cabinets.

When Joaquin returned would he be hungry? Should she set something out?

Stop procrastinating, Sara. Go to bed.

Her gaze went toward her quarters and then once more to the dark night beyond the glass. Sara, go to—

“Oh, shut up,” she muttered to her good sense.

A few minutes later, with a jacket over her dress and carrying Joaquin’s coat and a thick blanket, Sara let herself out the back door while promising herself she wouldn’t go far. The locked front gate would keep the teens safe from that direction, and she’d limit her search to a distance that allowed her a straight sight-line to the beachside entrance.

At the top of the steps leading to the sand, she paused, her gaze sweeping the scene. The night was clear, the stars pinpricks in the black canopy of

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