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

  Porter made it worse by sitting next to me.

  Mr. and Mrs. Clairborne looked pleased by the seating arrangements. Charlotte walked in holding a porcelain pitcher. She looked anything but happy. The glower she gave Porter had me feeling like shrinking. I observed Porter’s reaction. His pressed lips said it bothered him, but I watched as a half-smile appeared on his handsome scruff-lined face.

  “Hey, Cee Cee. How was your date last night?”

  The eye squint she gave him was remarkably frightening. “Why do you care?”

  “Charlotte,” Mrs. Clairborne warned, “be nice. We have a guest.”

  “Don’t you mean guests? I don’t remember Porter living here.”

  As if I didn’t feel uncomfortable already, tension ran rampant in the atmosphere. I ping-ponged between looking at each of the Clairbornes. If I had to guess, Mr. Clairborne’s tight jaw and hard stare directed toward his son said he agreed with his daughter. The sheen of tears in Mrs. Clairborne’s eyes said the exact opposite. Mr. Clairborne tried to ease the distress of his wife. He turned to her—she now sat to his right—and took her hand. His expression immediately changed to remorse for causing his wife heartache.

  Porter, not one to give up, gave all his attention to his sister. “Do you need help bringing anything in?”

  “I got it.” She slammed the pitcher on the table.

  “You were always cute mad.” Porter gave her his award-winning smile.

  She returned it with a smirk before throwing herself in the seat next to her mom, right across from Porter. That was going to be interesting.

  Mrs. Clairborne let out a deep sigh. “Let’s eat.” She smiled my way. “Please help yourself, Holland.”

  “This looks wonderful, thank you.” Though I wasn’t sure my stomach could handle eating anything. My brain-gut axis was alive and well, causing unusual sensations around my midsection. But I had to try.

  Porter held the platter of French toast for me. “Ladies first.”

  I took one slice while trying not to notice the way Porter’s smile made my neurons fire repeatedly. “Thank you.” I sounded out of breath.

  “So, Holland,” Mrs. Clairborne tried to sound cheery. “Tell us again what you do.”

  Everyone was giving me their rapt attention. That didn’t help at all. And I wondered why she wanted to hear it again. I must have told a dozen people in front of her last night. But I couldn’t be rude.

  I sat up straight. “I work in pharmacogenomics. It’s the study of how genetics affect your body’s response to certain types of medication. Specifically, I’m studying cardiovascular disease. Our hope is that we can make tailor-made drugs based on individual profiles to reduce adverse side effects as well as increase effectiveness.”

  Mrs. Clairborne raised her eyebrow. “Cardiovascular disease? So, you can tell my husband, here, how important eating right is.”

  I gave Mr. Clairborne a small grin. “She’s right. Diet is the first line of defense and can usually do more good than medication. There are even studies that prove that what we eat modifies gene expression. So what you eat can actually affect your children and grandchildren.”

  Everyone was staring at me now with wide eyes, except Porter, whose face was beaming before he gave me a devious grin. “You should read her research papers in the International Journal of Medical Sciences.”

  I shook my head, stunned. “How did you know about those?” I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

  His shoulder barely twitched. “I happened to come across them online.” He began to fill his plate, like what he had said was nothing.

  You don’t just come across those.

  “It sounds impressive,” Mr. Clairborne added. “Maybe you can help Charlotte here with her science project.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Daddy.”

  “Have you started it?” He looked down his nose at her.

  Her cheeks tinged red. “Not yet. I’m not sure what to do it on.”

  “What interests you?” I braved asking Charlotte. Admittedly, she kind of scared me.

  “Makeup and boys,” her dad teased.

  She gave her dad the look she had previously given Porter. Mr. Clairborne wasn’t fazed by it; instead, he laughed.

  “Well . . . actually makeup could be used for a science project.”

  Charlotte perked up and gave me her full attention. “Really? How?”

  I thought for a second. “Just off the top of my head, you could test waterproof ability, testing product claims, or figure out if expensive brands are really better than cheaper products.”

  “I like the sound of the last one.” Mr. Clairborne laughed. “Please prove that the cheaper brands are better. I’ll save a fortune on my wife and daughter.”

  Mrs. Clairborne lovingly smacked his arm. “Wishful thinking, love.”

  “Every little bit helps.” There was a touch of seriousness in his words.

  Charlotte, though, while rolling her eyes at her dad, addressed me. “Do you think you could help me?”

  Oh. “Uh, well . . .”

  Mrs. Clairborne clapped her hands together. “That would be amazing.”

  If I said no now, what kind of person would that make me? Didn’t these people know I was trying to forget about this place? About them? “I’d love to.” I faked a smile.

  Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” It was the nicest thing she’d said today. She almost sounded like the sweet little girl I once knew.

  My apartment was no place to do anything, and since I no longer had transportation. “You’d have to come to my lab, and it’s an hour from here.” I hoped that derailed this new twist in the plot.

  Mrs. Clairborne waved her hand around like she was conducting a choir. “That’s not a problem. You just tell us when and where.”

  My insides sighed. “I need to check the lab schedule to make sure, but any evening next week should work.” This weekend was not turning out at all like it was supposed to. Now what was I going to do?

  Porter’s smile said he could read my mind, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he had some ideas about what I could do.

  I wouldn’t be listening to any of them. Not again.

  Chapter Nine

  How did I find myself in Porter’s truck, hugging the passenger side door like a security blanket? Mrs. Clairborne’s beautiful but conspiratorial grin popped into my head along with her sweet voice.

  “I’m so sorry, honey, I forgot I promised to take Charlotte shopping for a prom dress and Beau’s meeting with our accountant. But Porter will be happy to take you.”

  His was the truck covered in brown dirt. The kind they had back West. How did I not pick up on that clue last night? Perhaps because I was still naïve?

  I only agreed because I was desperate to get back to my sanity. It was going to take a bit to get there; I noticed he took the long way back. The same way I’d come in. I doubt it had anything to do with lack of funds or his vehicle.

  “Did you ever figure out country music was the best?” Porter shook me out of my thoughts while he switched radio stations.

  I continued to stare out the window, trying not to remember the way he used to tease me about my music preferences or how he would sing any and every country song that came on the radio as loud as he could in his old truck. Not this newer one with every bell and whistle, including leather seats and a sunroof.

  “No.” I still didn’t like it. And I did my best to stay away from it. Too many memories.

  He chuckled and turned it to an indie pop station. My favorite, in fact. That is, when Lola’s radio worked. RIP, Lola. I’d said my goodbyes and emptied the glove compartment. It was all in the bag near my feet, along with the clothes Mrs. Clairborne gave me and the dress I borrowed from Andie. Here I was supposed to move on, and I felt like I was back to ground zero, right down to wearing borrowed clothes.

  “Is this station okay?” The gaiety was gone from his voice.

  I nodded, not sure if he was looking at
me.

  Only music filled the air for a few minutes, but it felt more like eternity. Uncomfortable waves washed over the cab of his truck.

  “Holland.” Porter reached over and tapped my shoulder.

  “What?” I spoke into the glass.

  “You can’t even look at me?”

  “I could.”

  “Would you?” It sounded a lot like begging, which he never did.

  I turned slowly and watched him carefully switch lanes to avoid the turning car in front of us.

  Once he was safely in the lane, he gave me a glance. “There are so many things I want to say to you, but I don’t know where to begin.”

  “You could start with my research papers.” I’d been wondering, but there wasn’t a moment to ask. I’d hoped to avoid him, but after we ate, his parents made sure that wasn’t going to happen.

  He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “That wasn’t exactly what I was talking about.”

  I turned back to the window. “Like I said, you don’t owe me anything.”

  “That’s not true. At the very least you deserve an explanation.”

  I leaned my head against the window. “You were suffocating, I get it.”

  He let out a deep breath. “There’s more to it.”

  I closed my eyes. “Why do you think I care anymore?” That sounded harsh. Not like me at all.

  A heavy silence hung between us.

  “I’m sorry.” I couldn’t take the guilt. No matter how much he hurt me, I was better than I just behaved.

  “You don’t have any reason to be. I deserve it. Feel free to lash out and/or punch me.”

  A tiny laugh escaped. “That would indicate I cared.”

  “Touché. You got feisty in my absence. I like it.” His lighthearted tones didn’t last. “Holland.”

  The way he said my name made me face him.

  He caught my eye for a second. “I know you don’t care, but I do. I am sorry. If I could redo any moment in my life, it would be that night.”

  All my fight-or-flight responses were kicking in. I did care. I didn’t want him to know, but that moment had changed my life. I went from having one person who loved me to none. You would have thought I would have been used to none, considering no one had until him, but it’s not something you get used to. You deal with it. No one should have to get used to it. I swallowed down the hurt that never went away.

  “We’ve both moved on.”

  We exited the Paradise city limits. It was so fitting. He glanced my way when he stopped at the intersection light. “You aren’t the kind of woman a man moves on from.” He turned from me and cranked up the radio as if he hadn’t meant to say that.

  I sat staring, first in shock and then annoyed that he lied. I’d seen the pictures. He’d moved on, like beyond on, judging by how many women he’d dated. But I’d also seen the picture he posted of us. Maybe he hadn’t by mistake. No. No. I couldn’t think like that. I turned from him and faced forward, determined not to say a word to him for the remainder of the drive.

  He had other ideas, as usual. “By the way, I came across your research papers when I googled your name.”

  “Why would you do that?” I tried to act nonchalant.

  “I’ve always wondered what happened to you.”

  I wrung my hands together. “Huh.” That came out pitchy.

  A crooked grin played on his face. “You never wondered about me?”

  I held my breath and shook my head.

  “Never?” Was he ever disappointed.

  “No,” I lied. Biggest lie ever.

  His shoulders sagged. “That’s understandable.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “I figured. You hardly ever post anything on Facebook.”

  My head whipped his way. “You’re stalking me on Facebook?”

  He gripped the steering wheel like a vice. “I wouldn’t say stalking. Just interested.”

  I could live with interested. I mean, I had been curious. I pressed my lips together and took some deep breaths. My sympathetic system was getting a workout with all this new information. We had both been cyber stalking each other—I mean, inquisitive.

  “I guess I can’t fault you for that.”

  He reached over and rested his hand on my leg. “I’m proud of you, Holland.”

  I stared down at the hand that was searing my insides. His touch always caused that reaction.

  “Thank you,” I said way too breathy, like we were in some cheesy romance movie that I never had time to watch.

  He lifted his hand.

  I needed to divert the conversation away from us since he was obviously decided that we should speak to each other during our final hour together. “Why haven’t you come home until now?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair and let out a large amount of air. “That’s a multi-layered answer.”

  I tucked some hair behind my ear. “Forget I asked.” It wasn’t any of my business and I was embarrassed I asked. Hydrogen, helium . . . I tried to calm myself.

  He shook his head. “No. I want you to know, even though it doesn’t paint me in the best light. I’m sure you picked up from my family—I’m not their favorite person right now. I haven’t been for a long time.” He rubbed and rubbed the back of his neck, keeping one hand on the wheel. “When I left, I’d been wanting to drop out of school and leave Paradise for a while, but . . .” He dared a peek at me. “I knew what I would be leaving behind, or at least I thought I knew. You don’t really know until it’s gone.”

  He had no idea how much I related to that statement.

  He was back to gripping the steering wheel with both hands. “But I wanted to be a self-made man. I was tired of living under my parents’ expectations. Some things were said that I’m not proud of, and I left with my dad furious at me and Natalie in tears. She begged me to reconsider. I told her she wasn’t my mother.” Regret filled his words and, if I wasn’t mistaken, tears pooled in his eyes.

  I couldn’t help but stare at him. My heart broke for Mrs. Clairborne. Especially since I knew his biological mother, Genevieve, didn’t play a huge role in his life. Or at least she hadn’t. Maybe that had changed. All I knew about her was she sent Porter birthday and Christmas gifts, and she called once in a while.

  He shook his head trying to stave off the emotion welling in his eyes. “As you can imagine, that didn’t sit too well with my dad. He told me I was no longer welcome at home.”

  My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe Mr. Clairborne would say such a thing.

  “I knew he said it in anger, and a few months later he backed off it, but I was stubborn and took it to heart. I was going to prove to him that I could make it without the Clairborne reputation and money.”

  “And did you?” I felt like I knew the answer, judging by his posts and the nice truck he drove, but after all this time I wanted to know his thoughts. I wanted to know him. I felt foolish for feeling that way. My limbic system was utterly failing me.

  He thought and thought some more. He was going to rub a hole in the steering wheel. “Professionally I’ve found success. It took some doing and swallowing my pride. I had to finish school.”

  That piqued my interest. “You finished school?”

  A half smile played on his lips. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

  “Sorry.” It was just that he complained about school a lot and I figured since he dropped out . . .

  “Don’t be sorry.” He threw me a smile. “Brace yourself, I’ve been working on my MBA online.”

  My eyebrows hit my hairline. I had no words.

  “Shocking, I know.”

  “I think it’s great.”

  “I know you always thought I should finish school.”

  For me education was my ticket out of my circumstances. And it had been. I was a huge proponent of it. If ever we argued, it was over how important education was. By arguing, I meant he let me lecture him on the value of a good education while he gave me a patroniz
ing smile until he’d had enough. Then he would kiss me until I forgot what we were even talking about. I breathed out, forcing thoughts of kissing him out of my cerebrum.

  “I highly recommend it for everyone.”

  He chuckled. “I still disagree with you, but . . . you were right. I needed to finish.” He flipped on his turn signal and switched lanes. “Too bad in the process, I failed at what was most important in life.”

  I faced forward, afraid if I kept looking at him I would reach out to him. “At least you’re making amends now.”

  He paused, and I swore I could hear him thinking. “I’m not sure if amends can be made, but I’ll do what I can in that regard and to help my dad.”

  That caught my attention. My head turned toward him. “Is your dad all right? I thought he was on the mend.”

  His jaw tightened, worrying me. “I probably said too much.”

  “Porter.” I had to know if Mr. Clairborne was okay.

  His name on my tongue eased him. I saw him physically relax, even his lip twitched upward. “Please don’t say anything, not even Natalie or my sister know.”

  I wrung my hands together.

  “My dad asked me several weeks ago to come home because the Clairborne isn’t doing so well.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged and sighed. “New chain hotels and Airbnb’s have popped up in Paradise and, unfortunately, Dad never saw the need to keep up on marketing trends. He’s done his best to stay away from social media. The Clairborne lived off its reputation and people for so long that made it a tradition, but times have changed.”

  “Why hasn’t he told your mom?”

  “After his heart attack, he hasn’t wanted to add any extra worry.”

  “She hasn’t noticed?”

  “I would be surprised if she hasn’t, but Dad was always the one to handle the business. Natalie loves being a mom to the staff and guests.”

  “She loves being a mom to you.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I know.”