Second Chance in Paradise (A Clairborne Family Novel Book 1) Read online

  I stared at the closed bathroom door. Porter was behind it. How could that be? And what did Mrs. Clairborne mean by “we both needed this”? How did she know what I needed? I needed to forget him, not spend the night in the room next to him. I certainly didn’t need images of his half-naked body in my head. Not to say they weren’t pleasant or worth revisiting, but they were going to set me back a few years. The fact I gave up checking him out online was now useless.

  On shaky legs, I walked back into the bathroom. At least I got to take off the ridiculous dress. I held up the black nightgown. My head dropped. I was going from one revealing outfit to another. The robe wasn’t all that long either. I hadn’t ever worn this much silk in my life. When I did take the time to wear pajamas, they were flannel in the winter and only a t-shirt in the summer. Who had time for nighties? I looked around me. People that lived in million-dollar-plus homes.

  I took a moment to look in the mirror. The humidity near the coast had undone some of my curls. My pale skin was marked with red blotches of embarrassment. That was attractive. I ran my hand across my bare collar bones and breathed. Time to get out of this dress. I reached back to unzip the zipper. It was one of the reasons I chose this dress. I could get in and out of it by myself. It took some acrobatics, but it was doable.

  Well, it was. The zipper wasn’t moving. Oh, no, no, no. Not on top of everything else that had happened to me tonight. I turned around to see what I could see in the mirror. I tugged and tugged some more. Ugh. I grunted and yanked until I heard a knock on the locked door.

  “Are you okay in there?”

  He was listening to me? Forget about the blotches, my body was in full blown vasodilation. “I’m fine. Just a little problem with my zipper.”

  “Do you need some help?”

  “No!”

  He chuckled. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “If you change your mind, just open the door.”

  That wasn’t happening. I didn’t need him to undress me. Now I had to get those images out of my mind. I was going to scour through pictures of disease-ridden organs as soon as I got back to the lab. Anything to recover from the images of this day. I put all my might and energy into one more tug. It didn’t even budge. I looked for some type of petroleum jelly to lubricate it. All I could find was hair gel. That wouldn’t do. I worked on it for ten more minutes, huffing and puffing.

  “Holland.”

  “What?”

  “Let me help you.”

  I stared at the door for several seconds.

  “You know I could always pop the lock.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “You know I would.”

  I knew that about him. Wait. I didn’t know him. “I’ll let you help me, but put on some pants or something.”

  “If it will make you feel better.” He laughed.

  I stood next to the door and waited for a few seconds, trying to get that parasympathetic system to kick in. “Are you dressed?”

  “As dressed as I’m getting.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Open the door and find out.” He hadn’t changed at all.

  I unlocked the door and slowly twisted the handle. Hydrogen, helium, lithium…

  “Are you reciting the periodic table in your head?”

  Out of all the things for him to remember.

  “Maybe.”

  He laughed. “Same old Holland.”

  I wasn’t the same. I was completely different and not at all affected by his charming laugh or lean muscle mass. I pulled the door open a crack and peeked on the other side.

  His teeth gleamed in the dim light. “No need to be shy around me.”

  “I’m not shy. I look at naked bodies all the time.” Cadavers counted. Why did I say that? I leaned against the door, even more embarrassed.

  His left eyebrow arched like I remembered. “Is that so?”

  I tucked some hair behind my ear. “For scientific purposes.”

  He pushed the door open all the way, still laughing, bare chested, and wearing a pair of jeans that did his body good. “Are you a scientist now, Holland?”

  I turned around so as not to stare at that chest that was once a safe landing place for me. Wanting this to be over and done with. Trying desperately to think of gut flora or the fact that our bodies made pints of saliva every day. Anything that disgusted me. Anything to get Porter out of my mind. It wasn’t helping. My mind wasn’t my own. My brain reminded me instead of all the saliva I shared with Porter. No. No. No. He was a lying jerk and I didn’t care how amazing he looked, I was over him. Completely. One hundred percent, not remotely interested. Who cared when he used to kiss me he could make my brain release mass amounts of dopamine?

  “You didn’t answer the question.” He brushed my hair to the side, causing my arrector pili muscles to contract over every square inch of my body.

  I shook involuntarily. “I am. I have degrees in microbiology and chemistry.”

  “I’m not surprised.” He gently tugged on the uncooperative zipper. “Where do you work?”

  “For the lab at Winchester. I’m a doctoral student.”

  “I’m proud . . . I mean, that’s great.”

  “What about you? What are you doing now?” Like I didn’t know, but I needed something to try and get my mind off the fact that he was touching me.

  “Marketing for a ski resort in Lake Tahoe.”

  “It’s the second deepest lake in the United States,” I blurted out like an idiot.

  “Of course you know that off the top of your head.” The smile in his voice was apparent.

  “I can’t help it.”

  “I like it. Always have.” He yanked again. “What did you do to this zipper?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not even my dress.”

  “You don’t have a lot of occasions to wear cocktail dresses in the lab?” It was just like him not to call attention to the fact that I didn’t own the dress. He never once made me feel like I was less because he had more.

  “Not really, no.”

  “That’s too bad,” he whispered close to my ear. “This dress suits you.”

  For the love of amino acids, he needed to quit doing that. “Do you have some lubricant or something?” Anything to get this over with.

  “That’s kind of a personal question, don’t you think?”

  I stepped away from him. Forget embarrassment. I was way past that. “I think I’ll sleep in the dress.”

  “Come on, that was funny. Laugh a little.”

  “It was immature.”

  “I’ll give you that. But it gave me an idea. Hold tight, I’ll be right back.” He slipped back into his room. Or was it his room? It looked more like a guest bedroom from what I could tell.

  “How come you’re not in your old room?” I braved asking.

  He looked up from the bag resting on the bench at the end of the four-poster bed with crumpled blankets. “It’s an art studio now.”

  “Oh.”

  He went back to digging through his bag for what I hoped wasn’t anything with the initials K or Y on it. “That’s what happens when you don’t come home for almost eight years.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  His head popped up; his eyes locked with mine. “Too long.”

  I nodded without thinking. I didn’t care how long it had been.

  He held up a tube of lip balm without taking his eyes off me. “Let’s get you out of that dress.”

  Chapter Seven

  I lay still in the softest, warmest bed I had ever slept in. I had tossed and turned most of the night, sleeping intermittently, thinking about the man in the room next to me, whether asleep or awake. He filled my restless dreams. I found myself in his arms, yelling at him, kissing him, and woke with an ache that wouldn’t go away.

  I pulled my knees to my chest and curled up like a ball. I honestly never thought I would see Porter again. Certainly not like this. I didn’t want to feel
this pull toward him. Even last night after he finally got the zipper unstuck, I had this unnatural desire to want to keep talking to him. I shouldn’t care about his life. He obviously didn’t care enough about mine, leaving the way he did. We had both moved on. He had a life in Lake Tahoe and I had one in the lab. We would part today and that would be that.

  Perhaps this needed to happen. I didn’t think I ever worked through my feelings for him. I buried them and focused on getting through school. It was a survival technique I learned long ago. But I was past only surviving. I had a career to look forward to and a life outside of school. I needed to look to the future, not keep clinging to memories.

  I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair. It was almost seven. I never got up this late. Not like I had really slept. Today I was going to say goodbye to Paradise. I wanted to see its coastline one more time. The sun was starting to creep up. I got out of bed and threw the robe over the negligee. I had to admit I felt feminine in it. All I wanted was to see the beach I loved so much. Hear the crash of the waves. Breathe in the scent of Paradise before leaving it all behind for the last time.

  I opened the double doors that led to the patio and pool. The cool morning breeze hit me. It was perfect. I heard the waves before I looked out to see them. The white sand married with the water. Seagulls played and squawked in the background. I hoped to see some dolphins; sometimes they came close to the shore.

  “Good morning.”

  I grabbed my chest. He needed to quit doing that.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  I turned toward the voice to my left. My nemesis was sitting on a lounge chair in the same jeans from last night, still no shirt. He looked more tired than I felt, as if he hadn’t slept at all.

  “I didn’t know you were out here.” I pointed back to the door. “I’m going to go back in.”

  “Please don’t.”

  I pulled the silk black robe tighter around me and sighed. Why did he make me want to stay? “What are you doing out here?” I tried my best not to stare at his chest.

  “Thinking.”

  I focused on their pool of crystal blue water complete with rock waterfall and slide. Their backyard was a slice of heaven, lush and already full of ornamental grasses and hibiscus. Porter promised me someday we would take a dip in the pool. That day would never come.

  “It’s a beautiful spot . . . to think.”

  “Even more so now.”

  Adrenaline caused more local blood flow in my cheeks. “I really should go back in.”

  “Holland, I think we should talk.”

  “What about?” I continued to stare at the scenery.

  “If I put a shirt on will you look at me?”

  “No.”

  He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

  I lied. I turned and gave him a quick smile. I shouldn’t have. He looked amazing, with more stubble than the night before and a smile to melt my heart. That wouldn’t do.

  “I need to get going. I wish you all the best in Tahoe.”

  He stood up, anxious. “Will you at least let me apologize?”

  I breathed out in exasperation. “If it will make you feel better.”

  “It won’t.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because what happened the last night we saw each other isn’t what you think.”

  I tilted my head. “Evil twin brother?” I don’t know why I joked. Maybe because I couldn’t bear to hear the truth.

  “No.”

  “Clone? Freak magnetization of your lips that drew you together against your will?”

  “No.” He was becoming more frustrated by the second.

  “Hologram?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Will you please stop?”

  I held my stomach, waiting for him to respond, though I was sure I already knew why and I didn’t want him to say it out loud. I didn’t want him to tell me I wasn’t enough for him.

  He stepped closer. Musk and sandalwood filled my senses, intoxicating me.

  “Holland, I was a coward. I should have told you the truth.”

  I stepped back. “You’re right. You should have. But I got the memo, loud and clear.”

  “No, you didn’t. At least, not the right one.”

  I shook my head and headed for the door. “It was a long time ago. You don’t owe me any explanations.”

  He took my hand. The ionic bond I used to feel was still there. Oppositely charged ions coming together to make something better together than apart. It was an illusion. I pulled away and headed back in.

  “I was going to leave you, Holland, but not like that,” he exclaimed.

  He got my attention. I stopped before reaching for the door.

  “Demi caught me off guard that night. I swear there was nothing between us. But when you caught us, it seemed . . . perfect.”

  My head whipped his way. “For who?”

  He lowered his head. “For a coward looking for a way out. I was suffocating here.”

  “I suffocated you?” I tried but failed to keep emotion out of my voice.

  His head lifted. His eyes made direct contact to my heart. “No. You made leaving almost impossible.”

  “I see.” I felt as if he’d slapped me. As weird as it sounded, I felt better when I thought he cheated on me.

  “Do you?”

  “I wasn’t worth the truth.” My voice was strangled.

  He began to reach for me but didn’t quite make it. His eyes were pleading. “No. I mean, of course you were.” He paused gathering his thoughts. “Holland, I was twenty-one and trying to figure out life.”

  I shook my head, trying to understand why that mattered. It didn’t excuse what he had done. “I was eighteen and naïve. But just so you know, you could have told me the truth. I would have told you to go.” I took one more good, long stare. “Goodbye, Porter.”

  I hurried in, waiting to feel a rush of closure. I finally got to say goodbye. I stood against the door and waited and waited some more. Any minute now, Porter would be leaving my limbic system. Waiting. Waiting. Come on already. I’d faced him and said goodbye. It was over.

  Tears began to prick my eyes. I wanted to forget him, maybe even hate him, but I still saw the man that secretly paid for my senior fees and cap and gown when I told him I wasn’t going to walk to get my high school diploma. He was the only person that came or cared to see me graduate. He stood in the back of the auditorium so as not to be seen. He crept out as soon as I received my diploma.

  I should have been valedictorian or at the very least salutatorian, but no one from Cokeville would have that honor. The school district had varying levels of socio-economic classes across three towns. Those from the upper class made sure their children were always on top. I was told I didn’t receive the honor because of some discrepancy in my transcripts from the previous high school I attended my freshman year. There was nothing I could do about it. No parent to go to bat for me. But there was Porter, holding my hand, telling me it didn’t matter. That I would show them.

  Now here he was standing outside my room. Telling me after everything we shared, he couldn’t at least tell me the truth.

  I wiped my eyes. I wasn’t that girl. Now I was a woman. The woman Porter always thought I would be even when I doubted or thought the obstacles might be too great. I never thought he would doubt me. But he had. I meant what I said. I would have told him to go. To figure out who he was. It would have hurt, but I would have mustered up the courage to tell him that I loved him. At least I think I would have.

  Then I would have told him that I would wait for him until he found the man I already knew he was. Or at least who I thought I knew. But maybe that’s not who he wanted to be. Maybe he wanted to be the playboy on the slopes, not the man who always found a way to make me smile or who read bedtime stories to his little sister. And though I know it was difficult for him, he always did what needed to be done for the Clairborne. Whether it was filling in at the front desk, fixing minor plumbi
ng issues when maintenance was busy, or helping re-stock the shelves of the souvenir shop. He did whatever it took, even if he complained afterward this wasn’t the life he wanted.

  That I could never understand. Perhaps I never really understood him. And . . . he probably didn’t tell me because he didn’t want me to wait for him and knew I would. He didn’t want me.

  I closed my eyes, willing Porter out of my system, my heart. In Porter fashion, he didn’t want to seem to budge. I could picture his charming smile. I shook my head as if that would push him out. I could hear him laugh in my head like he was enjoying my attempts to rid myself of him. Why did that make me smile? I was supposed to hate him, or at the very least not be attracted to him. Though, the body on the other side of the door was worthy of viscid fluids. Drooling sounded too juvenile.

  A knock on the bedroom door shook me out of my thoughts of opening the door I leaned against to get one more look of Porter’s chest. I needed help.

  “Come in,” I called.

  Mrs. Clairborne walked right in with several pieces of clothing draped over her arm, looking like she’d been up for hours with flawless flowing hair and makeup that only enhanced her natural beauty. How did she get her hair so shiny? Not to mention what did she do to keep in shape? She looked gorgeous in her tight white sweater and navy shorts.

  “Good morning, honey. I hope you slept well.” She laid the clothes she’d been carrying on the bed that I felt guilty for not making already. “I figured you might want something to change into instead of the dress you wore last night.”

  I pushed away from the door, hoping my eyes didn’t look like I had shed some tears. “That’s very thoughtful of you, but I’m fine wearing the dress. I’m going to call a tow truck and my boss and get back to Mobile.”

  She didn’t listen to me. “Nonsense.” She picked up a floral off-the-shoulder blouse and made her way to me. She held the blouse up against me. “I think this would look lovely on you.”