Second Chance in Paradise Page 5

  I rubbed my arms. It had become chilly, especially with the breeze off the water. “If you wouldn’t mind taking a look, that would be great.” I hated asking for help, but I didn’t have a lot of options at this late hour.

  “I’d be happy to.” He looked at his wife, who was properly wrapped in an elegant shawl that matched her champagne gown. “Why don’t you take Holland to our car and get her out of the cool air?” He took off his suit coat and handed it to Mrs. Clairborne.

  I stopped rubbing my arms. “I’m fine. I can help with the car.”

  “I’m sure you can.” Mr. Clairborne approached me and rested his hand on my arm. There was something so familiar and familial about his touch. “I’ve got this; you go get warm.” He plucked the keys right out of my hand.

  Mrs. Clairborne was right there taking my hand and leading me across the lot toward their sleek red Jaguar, of all cars. It was certainly out of my league. All I had hopes for one day was a car made in this century, preferably this decade.

  “Why don’t you sit in the passenger side? I’ll turn on the seat warmer.”

  It wasn’t that cold, but a seat warmer sounded nice.

  I got in, uncomfortable being in such a nice car. The situation didn’t help either.

  Mrs. Clairborne sat in the driver’s seat. At first, nothing was said while we waited for the car to warm up, which didn’t take long at all. Lola would have needed at least half an hour to blow warm air out of her vents.

  “I think we owe you an apology.” Mrs. Clairborne smiled over at me.

  “What for?”

  She bit her lip like a beauty queen. If I tried that I would end up looking like a walrus. “I know we came on a little strong tonight. It’s just that . . .” She sighed. “It’s just, we knew how Porter felt about you and—”

  I jumped as if electrocuted, grabbing my heart. They must have seen that picture, but I couldn’t mention it, because I would have to admit to being a social media stalker—I mean, curious.

  “You knew about Porter and me?”

  She reached over and took my now clammy hand. “Oh, honey, of course we knew. Porter had never come home so many weekends until you started working for us. And we saw the way he looked at you. How he lingered wherever you were.”

  It wasn’t the picture. They knew forever ago. Guilt washed over me. I couldn’t even look her in the eye. “I’m so sorry. I knew it was against the rules. And . . . well, I don’t have a good excuse.”

  “Really? Porter wasn’t excuse enough?”

  A small smile escaped. “I suppose. Or at least I thought so.”

  She squeezed my hand. “I know he hurt you.”

  My head popped up and met her caring eyes. “You do?”

  She nodded. “He told me before he left ‘to find his own way,’ as he put it.” Her big brown eyes filled with tears. “He wanted me to tell you how sorry he was. You disappeared too, though.”

  Was he truly sorry? I wanted to ask her about Demi, but what good would it do to know? “It seemed like the best thing to do at the time.”

  “And what do you think now?”

  I turned from her to stare out the window, watching wedding guests leave to the comfort of their beautiful homes. “That I was right. I don’t belong in Paradise.”

  “I will have to disagree with you.”

  I turned and met her eyes again. “If you knew about Porter and me, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  She paused for a moment. “At first Beau and I thought about it. But we watched you, and we couldn’t help but be impressed with you. You were a hard worker, always doing more than your part. We could see a good change in Porter when he was with you. And we knew if he thought for a second we approved of you, that would be enough for him to change his mind. He wasn’t one to want to please his parents.” Emotion flooded her voice.

  “I really am sorry for it all. We shouldn’t have.”

  “Don’t apologize. Because of you, I think we had Porter a year longer. And you weren’t the first employee to catch the owner’s son’s eye.”

  That sick-to-my-stomach feeling was back. I was so naïve to think I was the only employee Porter ever dated. Even though he said I was. But he was a liar.

  Mrs. Clairborne began to laugh. Why was this so funny?

  “Oh, honey.” She jostled my hand she still held. “I wasn’t talking about Porter. I was talking about my husband.”

  I leaned back against the luxurious seat. “You worked for the Clairborne?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I worked in the spa as a massage therapist back when Beau’s parents ran the resort.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “I don’t think Porter likes to talk about it. I think he still blames me for his parents’ divorce even though Beau and Genevieve were long separated by the time we met. I helped raise Porter since he was five. I fell in love with him before Beau.” Heartbreak wove in and out of her words.

  Had Porter estranged himself from his family?

  “He was lucky to have you. I always told him that.”

  “You are a sweet young woman.” She patted my hand.

  I shrugged. Not sure how sweet I was.

  “Tell me of your family.” Her voice was strained as if she knew.

  My eyes fell to my lap. “I wouldn’t know.”

  The last time I saw any of them was the day my Uncle Stan dropped me off at my dorm room. He helped me carry up my very few belongings. There, he handed me a hundred-dollar bill. It was a lot of money for him. “Take this,” he’d said. “Be better than us. Good luck.” He walked out and never looked back. I didn’t watch him go. I was free.

  “You know, your uncle stayed in Cokeville so you could finish school. He knew how important that was for you. He’d been offered a better job in Ohio your senior year.”

  “I didn’t know that.” I talked into my lap, flabbergasted. But not able to look at her. I was embarrassed by the situation even after all this time.

  “I don’t know the ins and outs of it all, but I know life wasn’t easy for you. Which made Beau and me all the more impressed with you.”

  “I just did what I had to do.” I still did.

  “That in and of itself is saying something.”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. I hadn’t planned on having any soul-bearing moments with my ex-boyfriend’s mother. I came here to bury my past, but all I felt like I was doing was digging myself in deeper.

  Mr. Clairborne approached the car. I hoped that meant I would be on my way. It was eleven now. He went to the driver’s side, opened the door, and leaned in. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up. His hands had some grease on them. He gave his wife a kiss on the head before addressing me.

  “I’m sorry to say, I’m not sure what’s wrong. I can have my mechanic look at it tomorrow.”

  My disappointed eyes met his. “That’s okay. To be honest, it would probably be best to haul her off to a junk yard and let her die a proper death. I appreciate your help. I guess I’ll call a cab or Uber.”

  I hated to think of the cost of that, but what choice did I have? I didn’t have friends to call. Sharon was a possibility, but it was so late, and I was an hour away.

  “A cab? That’s nonsense. You can stay with us tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll see what we can do about getting your car fixed,” Mrs. Clairborne offered.

  Inside I was vehemently shaking my head. “I couldn’t impose, and I really should get back to Mobile.”

  “It’s no imposition at all,” Mr. Clairborne jumped in.

  “We have plenty of room. And it’s late. We wouldn’t feel right sending you off in a cab.”

  Riding off with some stranger I had to pay wasn’t my idea of fun either, but I wasn’t sure I could face the resort. And how could I stay with the Clairbornes, of all people?

  “Please,” Mrs. Clairborne begged like her life depended on it.

  “I really—”

  “Let us help you,” Mr. Clairborne cut me off. />
  “I’m not really good at that.”

  “It’s never too late to learn.” He smiled.

  Life had taught me another lesson. Never depend on anyone but myself. “I can see if there’s a room available somewhere else.”

  “You’re a stubborn woman. That’s good. I’m a stubborn woman too.” Mrs. Clairborne smiled. “Now let’s go home.”

  I sighed in resignation.

  Chapter Six

  Before I knew it, I was in the backseat of their car driving toward exactly what I wanted to forever forget. Mr. Clairborne worked it out with the country club so my car could stay there for the night. Not like anyone would want to steal it, and having it towed away wouldn’t be all that bad.

  The car ride was eerily silent, but I noticed the glances between husband and wife. I was sure they had the ability to communicate without words. The question was, what were they saying?

  Mr. Clairborne bypassed the resort and took a back road to their private bungalow with a gorgeous view of the Gulf and their own slice of the beach. The one-story bungalow, like most of Paradise, had a Mediterranean flair. Arches and columns adorned the beautifully lit up home. Palm trees filled the landscape. It was an oasis within an oasis.

  We pulled into their four-car garage that was bigger and nicer than most homes. My apartment wouldn’t even consume half. Three cars and a truck filled the space. Each looked new or slightly used. The truck looked the oldest, but that could have been because it was dirty. I wondered where they had taken it. The mud on it was brown, not like the red clay we had in Alabama. I was too tired and nervous to ask. It had been a long day and I knew it would be a longer night. The most uncomfortable one of my life. If I slept at all, it would be a miracle. My plan was to get up early, call Sharon, beg her to come and get me, and find someone willing to haul away Lola for cheap. I couldn’t afford to keep fixing her. I would be walking and taking public transportation until I completed my doctorate.

  Once the car was off and the garage door was coming down, Mrs. Clairborne turned back toward me. “We will put you in one of the guest bedrooms near the pool.”

  One of the guest bedrooms? How many did they have? I had been in the house once, but it was quick. Porter had forgotten his wallet. Maybe not that quick; we made out in his bedroom. Porter liked to take his time with that activity. When it was with him, I had too.

  “Anywhere is fine. Thank you.”

  “This is going to be good,” she practically sang as Mr. Clairborne helped her out of the car. He opened my door too. Southern gentleman manners out in force. Porter had those too. Except for the kissing Demi episode. That wasn’t polite at all.

  I followed them through the cleanest and best organized garage of all time into the house. We landed in a mud room that had not a speck of dirt in it. That led to a laundry room with shelves for days and gleaming appliances. Did anyone even live here?

  “Do you remember Charlotte, our daughter?” Mrs. Clairborne asked.

  I nodded.

  “She’s down this hall,” Mrs. Clairborne pointed out. “She should be back in an hour or so. She had a big date tonight.” I think I remember Porter’s room being down that hall too.

  The house was as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside, with exposed wood beam ceilings and dark hardwood. Everything else was airy and light, including the furniture made of natural materials throughout the home. I felt like I was walking through a showcase home.

  Mr. Clairborne parted from us and headed to bed. “Goodnight, Holland,” he said before giving Mrs. Clairborne a seductive glance. “See you in a minute, darlin’.” He sounded eager.

  It was nice to see that love endured, even grew with age. It was apparent they were still very much in love. I noticed the way they touched each other all night and the soft words spoken. I didn’t grow up seeing those kinds of relationships. My parents were brutal to one another and my aunt and uncle may have loved each other, but they argued most of the time about anything and everything. At least they weren’t violent like my parents, but they were never soft. Not like the Clairbornes.

  “I’ll get Holland settled and I’ll be right there.”

  I wouldn’t be able to settle here, but I desperately wanted out of the heels. My feet were begging to be released from their three-inch captors.

  Mrs. Clairborne took my hand. “Come. I want you to see your room. I recently remodeled it. Then I’ll get you a nightgown to change into.”

  I followed along. No sense in protesting now since I was here. Our heels clicked all the way down the hall. We passed what looked like a den, then a closed door, which I assumed was a bedroom. The next door we came to was open and we entered.

  Mrs. Clairborne flipped on the lights to reveal the prettiest room I’d ever had the pleasure of being in. A large wrought iron bed stood in the middle, covered with light linens and several pillows. There was a sitting area near the double glass doors with a view of the pool, and what looked like the most comfortable chair and ottoman ever. The dresser drawers were hand carved with ornate designs.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Mrs. Clairborne beamed. “I hope you’ll be comfortable.” She pointed to the closed door to the left. “There’s a bathroom through there. There are already towels and any toiletry item imaginable in there, but if you find you need anything, let me know.”

  I knew I wouldn’t be lacking for anything in this home. “Thank you. Really, you’ve done more than I ever expected.”

  She gave me a little side squeeze. “I’ll be right back. Please make yourself at home.”

  As soon as she left, I slipped out of my shoes. I was five feet five again. Oh, that felt good. My feet reveled in the feel of the cool hardwood floors. Next, I headed to the bathroom. I could use some cool water splashed on my face. I hoped to find some makeup wipes too. My face wasn’t used to the extra layer.

  The bathroom was perhaps even nicer than the room. Some kind of fancy tile made up the floor. And the walls were made of stone, as was the large tub in front of the stained-glass window. The other side of the bathroom had a double sink counter and a rain shower. It was like staying in a five-star hotel. I only knew that because I had worked at one. One side of the bathroom counter held baskets filled with washcloths and various toiletries. The other side had the same, but there was also a man’s toiletry bag and a razor. It was then I noticed a door on the other side. It must be one of those Jack and Jill bathrooms. Was someone else staying here? I would think Mrs. Clairborne would have said something. Or did Mr. Clairborne use this bathroom? Just in case, I went to make sure the other door was locked.

  That ended up not being necessary. I reached for the door, but someone was already opening it from the other side. I stepped back. Was I ever in for the shock of my life. Although maybe not as shocked as the other person—only in his boxer shorts—when I let out a tiny scream.

  He blinked his eyes before they reached maximum capacity for width. “Holland?” He rubbed his eyes.

  My sympathetic nervous system revved up and my parasympathetic system wasn’t kicking in to calm me down. I was bordering on a panic attack. “Porter? What are you doing here?”

  He pointed at me, shock and delight filled his features. “What are you doing here?”

  “Leaving.” I turned as quick as I could. Why didn’t his parents tell me he was here? I would have never come. That answered that.

  “Wait,” Porter called.

  I ran into Mrs. Clairborne when exiting the bathroom. Porter was right behind me.

  Mrs. Clairborne steadied herself before looking at the both of us. She looked both pleased and worried with her impish grin. “I see you two have already run into each other. Excellent.”

  Excellent was not what I was thinking. “I need to go.” I headed to get my shoes.

  That wiped the grin off her face. “No. Please don’t.”

  I stopped and looked between Mrs. Clairborne and Porter. My eyes lingered on him, his bare, defined chest had mo
re hair on it than I remembered. And the stubble. He couldn’t really grow a beard the last time I saw him. His broad shoulders paired perfectly with his lean waist. His hair was mussed up like he had already been asleep. He was still Porter, but an older, more attractive version. I knew that from his posts, but they didn’t do the living, breathing him justice.

  He too seemed to be fixated on me. His eyes roved over me, again and again.

  I ran my fingers through my hair.

  “Holland,” Mrs. Clairborne addressed me, “I’m sorry I didn’t mention Porter was visiting. I knew you wouldn’t stay if you knew, but I know you needed to.” She focused on Porter. “You both need this, so there will be no more talk of leaving. It’s late and we’re all tired.” She stood tall and proud, full of authority. “Here’s your nightgown and robe. If you need anything else, I’m sure Porter will be happy to help you.”

  He nodded, still focused on me.

  I took the black silk gown and matching robe from her but didn’t look at her either. Porter consumed me. He was always good at that.

  “Goodnight. I’ll make breakfast in the morning.” She marched her tiny frame out the door and shut it with force.

  That left Porter and me to stare at each other.

  “I came for Jaycee's wedding and my car broke down.” I answered his earlier question, nervous.

  “I’m here on a . . . break.”

  A break? Did you get breaks in the working world? “That’s nice.” That sounded lame.

  “I’m sorry about your car.”

  “She died a noble death.”

  He grinned. “I should let you change and get to bed. You can use the bathroom first.”

  “Thanks.” My voice was breathy.

  He nodded, and without another word, he went back to his room. I noticed he locked the bathroom door on his side before he closed it.

  Once I swallowed my heart back down, I thought about what I should do. Calling a cab was still an option. But I didn’t exactly know the address here. I suppose I could walk to the Clairborne. My feet begged me to reconsider that. Would Sharon kill me if I called her this late pleading for a ride? She did hold the balance of my life in her hands, so it probably wasn’t a good idea. I supposed I could stay. I had a feeling Mr. and Mrs. Clairborne would be on the lookout for any escapees tonight. And what if I triggered their alarm? Okay. I would stay, but I wasn’t going to like it.