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When she didn’t respond, he shut the door a second before she hit the gas pedal. He was slowly walking back into the kitchen when his phone buzzed in his pocket for an incoming text.
“Missed her?” Elena asked.
She was asking about Honor. He gave a distracted, “Yeah,” as he pulled out his phone to read the text.
Rox: Tell your mom I’m sorry about her dress.
He frowned and started to type a reply when another one popped up.
Rox: And tell your dad I’m sorry, too.
He typed faster. Are you texting and dri—
Rox: No. I pulled over to send this, so shut up.
The tightness in his chest loosened slightly as he smiled, deleted, and retyped. I will—tell them, that is (not shut up). And you’re lucky.
He pocketed his phone, then headed over to drop a quick kiss on Elena’s cheek as a way to delay having to return to the party. “Awesome food tonight, tia. As always.”
“Thank you. Now tell me what that was all about.”
He reluctantly leaned back to glance out toward the main floor of the mansion.
“Your mom and dad came back down a few minutes ago,” Elena advised. “Everything is covered out there.”
Thank God.
“Come on, now. Spill.”
He braced his hands back against the island and recounted the events on the patio as Elena multitasked, listening, scraping empty dishes, and directing servers passing in and out. Her brows quirked up when he got to the part about Honor’s jinxed cakes, and then she tsked her disapproval of Loyal’s verbal attack on Roxanna.
“It breaks my heart your brother is still hurting after all this time.” She gave the spoon in her hand a vicious rap against the inside of the garbage. “I hope those exes of his get a taste of their bad karma someday.”
“Yeah. Don’t we all.”
“I can see why Ms. Hartman departed so abruptly. Too bad you couldn’t catch her.”
“It’ll get sorted out.” At least he knew where to find her. He glanced toward the doors once more, then back to Elena. “You need some help with the dishes?”
&
nbsp; “You just want to hide out, but far be it for me to say no to help. You’ll need an apron.”
He stripped off his jacket and slung it over the back of an island chair before removing his monogrammed cufflinks so he could roll up his shirt sleeves. Once the apron was tied behind his waist, he got right to work.
Elena bumped his elbow with her shoulder a few minutes later. “I miss this. Not the help per se, your mom makes sure I have plenty, but you kids here in the kitchen with me.”
Combine him and his four siblings with the three Torrez kids and most times it had been pure chaos. The oldest son of Spanish immigrants who’d worked for his grandparents, Mr. Torrez managed the stables while Elena managed the house, and their family had lived in a guest house on the far end of the north pasture until the kids graduated high school. The eight of them had gotten into a lot of trouble together over the years.
“You miss that madness?” he asked in disbelief. “Really?”
“I really do,” she confirmed with a nostalgic smile.
“Where is everyone these days?” All three of her kids had joined the military after graduating high school. “Solana hasn’t posted anything online in a while.”
“She’s been too busy. Her Quantico training starts next week.”
“That’s pretty awesome.” The middle of the three at twenty-five, Solana was wicked smart, like his baby sister.
