Javier’s tone was dryer than the desert. ‘If you’ll excuse us, we were about to take a shower, weren’t we, darling?’
At the increased pressure on her shoulder, Zoe swallowed a giggle, managed a nod, and managed not to explode with manic laughter when Javier instructed his parent, ‘Make breakfast, Mama. Zoe and I enjoy fending for ourselves, but as you’re here you might as well do it.’
A series of decisive strides took him to Isabella Maria’s side. A hand clamped beneath her elbow, he escorted her back through the door, firmly closing it in her surprised wake.
His hands spread, he turned to Zoe, his mouth wry as he murmured drolly, ‘What can I say?’
‘That you ought to fix padlocks on the doors?’ Zoe’s smile was wobbly because rivers of frustration were rushing through her veins, making her bones ache.
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