Second Chance in Paradise Read online

  “I’m going to see if I can do what I do for the resort I work at in Tahoe. Social media campaigns, reaching out to businesses in Alabama and the surrounding states to host events and retreats at the Clairborne. New ad campaigns across all marketing channels.”

  Before I even said it, I could feel the vasodilation in my cheeks. “So you’ll be in Paradise for a while.”

  He turned my way. His eyes pierced me. “I don’t know.”

  I turned from his gaze. It didn’t matter one way or the other.

  My cardiac muscles said I was lying.

  Chapter Ten

  Porter pulled up in front of my apartment building. His look said please tell me this isn’t where you live. He stared up at the four-story building that resembled something you might see in a low-budget horror film. The building where you know not everyone who goes in is coming out alive.

  “It looks worse on the inside.” I grabbed the bag at my feet.

  He threw his truck in park and grimaced.

  “I live here by choice.” Not sure why I felt the need to explain myself to him. We were never seeing each other again.

  He turned my way and tried to turn his grimace into a grin. “I can walk you up.”

  “No thanks. But thank you for the ride.” I reached for the door handle.

  He reached for my hand. “Wait.”

  There was that bond again. Oppositely charged ions coming together, figuratively speaking. It was as if we were sodium and chloride, meant for each other. Pull away, my cerebrum signaled, the myocardium was disagreeing. My internal organs waged a war, all while I stared into the most beautiful oculus sinister and oculus dexter I had ever seen. I must be nervous, thinking in the Latin terms I’d learned for left and right eye in anatomy.

  “I should go,” I breathed out.

  “Can we have dinner this week?” he hurried to ask.

  I pulled away. “That wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  His gaze fixed on our empty hands before he scooted closer and begged me with his eyes to change my mind. “Why not?”

  “I’m busy.”

  “What about next week? You mentioned to Natalie it was spring break.”

  I opened the passenger door. “I’ll still be in the lab.”

  “You have to eat. You can’t spare an hour?”

  He forced my hand. I had to face him and own the real reason. “I can’t—”

  “Are you dating someone?”

  If ever I wanted to lie, this was the time. I tossed my head from side to side. “Does my lab count?”

  His crooked smile appeared. “No.”

  His smile was getting to me. I hopped out of the truck with the bag.

  “Holland,” he called out, scrambling to undo his seatbelt. “Please.”

  “Porter, we can’t.”

  He held onto his seatbelt, his brows knitted together. “Why?”

  I closed my eyes for a second and breathed in and out. When I opened them, I felt the sting of tears. “You left.” I tried my best to keep emotion out of my voice, but it had lived in me for almost eight years. He left and he had taken something with him. Something I valued more than anything, even my education. He took love—his, and all that I had to give.

  He sat up, but his eyes never left mine. “I’m sorry, Holland. Maybe it means nothing to you, but I’m here now and I’m not the coward that left.”

  “For yours and your family’s sake I hope that’s true. Do your best to repair your relationships with them and help the Clairborne.” I started to close the truck door, but not fast enough.

  “I plan on repairing more than that.” He’d never sounded so determined, which was saying something.

  I shut the door, shaking my head. Surely he couldn’t be referring to us after all this time. Or was he? I made the mistake of looking at him through the window. His eyes and the way he was leaning toward me reminded me of the first time he asked me out and I said no. I didn’t want to break the rules or lose my job. But he persisted, and the more I got to know him, the harder it was to not give in to what I wanted. It was the first time, but far from the last, that he got my heart to overrule my head.

  Not this time though.

  I turned in my heels, no longer that girl. My heart poised a question, Are you sure? I faltered for a second on my way to the door. Of course I—

  “Holland,” Porter called out.

  I paused and held my breath, not able to look back at him.

  “Remember that night in the hammock when I predicted your future? I’ve been right about everything so far.”

  I let out the breath in a gasp. I turned toward the man with his window down and a look that said I dare you.

  His grin bordered on arrogant. “I don’t want to start being wrong now.”

  I dropped the bag.

  He made note of my reaction. “Good, you do remember that night.”

  I stood as tall as I could. “I do remember that night, Porter Clairborne. And you may have been right about where I would end up, but you were wrong about us. You made sure of it when you left.”

  The smile still played on his face. “Darlin’,” I hadn’t been called that in forever. His accent was back. “Let me refresh your memory. I said our relationship may not go exactly how we planned or even wanted, but there wouldn’t be an end. Not for us.”

  I stepped closer. “Even if that were true, which it’s not, what makes you think I would still want you after all these years?”

  “You would have kept on walking into your apartment building and never looked back if there wasn’t a part of you that didn’t always wonder what could have been. What could be. And I know when we touch you feel the same spark that was always there.”

  I gave him a look to rival his sister’s. “All that is, is a mixture of adrenaline, dopamine, and serotonin.” I turned to walk away.

  His laughter was loud enough that I could hear it plainly several feet away from him. “I’ve missed you, Holland Reeves.”

  Don’t respond, just keep on walking. Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, carbon . . .

  “Carbon, nitrogen, oxygen,” he taunted me. He knew exactly what I was doing, even how far I had made it on the table.

  I spun around with narrowed eyes, catecholamines surging through me. I had never felt so angry. I had learned to school, even hide my emotions, probably to my detriment in some instances. This would be one of those cases where I should have. But, you see, the amygdala in your brain that senses threats to your wellbeing has a nasty habit of making you react before the cortex kicks in your reasonable side.

  “You must think I’m that naïve eighteen-year-old girl that you left. Why don’t you go and tell your stories about how much you missed me to all your girlfriends, like Honey, or Skipper.”

  Those were the only ones I could remember off the top of my head, from the string of girlfriends he’d had over the years. Skipper was the actress. Her last name was Ahoy, by the way.

  Even from a distance, I could see his eyes bulge before he fumbled his way out of his truck. That wasn’t going to do. This conversation was over. We were over. I picked up the nicest paper bag ever that Mrs. Clairborne had given me and made a beeline for the entrance.

  It was a fine plan until my heel got caught in the cracked concrete that was supposed to be a sidewalk—and maybe it was ten years ago. My ankle went one way while the rest of my body went the other. I faltered, and there was Porter ready to steady me. Instant pain surged through me.

  “Cytosine! Guanine! Adenine! Thymine! Uracil!” I did my best to hold back the tears while holding up my right foot that now throbbed.

  Porter wrapped his arm around me, allowing me to balance. “What language is that?”

  I ignored him and breathed through the pain. And how did he not know those were nucleobases?

  “Are you okay?”

  I tried putting pressure back on my foot. I needed out of Porter’s arms in Planck time— theoretically the smallest time measurement po
ssible. I let out a yelp when my foot and the ground made contact. I breathed in and out again with my eyes closed; this way I couldn’t see how tenderly Porter was looking at me.

  “I’m fine,” I squeaked. “I think I have it from here.” I was going to hobble if I had to. I applied the least amount of pressure I could on my injured foot and took another deep breath before pulling away. “Thanks. I’m going to go now.”

  “I forgot how stubborn you are.” He refused to let go.

  I turned and met his eyes. We were too close. His minty breath lingered between us. The back of his free hand found its way to my cheek. “I did not forget how beautiful you are.”

  I turned from the caress. “Please don’t.” I couldn’t stand the ache his touch caused. It made me want more.

  “I’m sorry. I’m going too fast. You’ve always had that effect on me. Let me help you to the steps so we can look at your foot.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “Agree to disagree.” He tightened his grip, allowing me the ability to lean on him.

  “Only to the steps.”

  He chuckled. “Whatever you say.”

  We moved slowly, me hopping on one foot, to the filthy concrete steps that led to the entrance of my building. I hated the thought of sitting on them. People rubbed cigarettes into them, as well as using it as a place to spit their gum and who knew what else.

  “Um.” I eyed the steps. “I think I’ll take my chances and head up to my apartment.”

  “What floor do you live on?”

  “Third.”

  “Is there an elevator?”

  “Technically, but I value my life. I can make it up the stairs.” I had an iron will.

  He looked down at my foot. “It’s already swelling; that isn’t a good sign. Did you feel or hear a pop?”

  I shrugged. It all happened so fast, I wasn’t sure. It didn’t help that emotionally I wasn’t in the best place.

  “You should probably have it checked out.”

  I loosened my grip on him and reached for the metal hand rail. I would sanitize my hand once I made it to my apartment.

  “Maybe tomorrow, but I’m sure it’s nothing.” I didn’t have time for an injury. I winced when I applied more pressure on my foot. I could do this. I would hop up the stairs.

  Without warning, Porter picked me up in one fluid swipe.

  My body went rigid. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Saving you from your stubborn self.”

  “I’m no damsel in distress.”

  He sighed. “I’m well aware of that, but you don’t always have to do it on your own.”

  Ridiculous lacrimal glands. I wiped at my eyes. “Actually, I do.”

  His features softened. “Not today.”

  I relaxed involuntarily in his arms.

  He pulled me closer. “Where’s the nearest urgent care?”

  I gazed into his blue-as-the-sea eyes, trying to ignore the pain emanating from the lower region of my body. “Porter.”

  “Holland.” He leaned in closer. His forehead almost met mine.

  “I don’t like you,” I whispered.

  He laughed before kissing my forehead as if it was the natural thing for him to do. “Good. For a second there I thought you were going to make this easy on me.”

  Chapter Eleven

  There we were again, in his truck. I was still staring out the window, though this time my swollen ankle was bandaged, and a pair of crutches rested next to me. A second-degree sprain. I sighed internally. Thankfully it wasn’t broken, but I was looking at a ten to thirty-day recovery period. I had no time for this. I was told to keep as much weight off it as possible and elevate it when I could.

  To make matters worse, I didn’t have a car, not that I could have driven all that well since it was my right foot. I would have tried, though. Lola had had her revenge. I would be getting a major workout walking on crutches to campus. My armpits already ached thinking about it. I had survived a lot worse, I reminded myself.

  “You doing okay over there?” Porter, who hadn’t left my side all day, brought me out of my thoughts.

  I stared out into the fading light of day. My entire day had been wasted and spent with the one person I decidedly didn’t want to spend my day with. If I was being honest, though, it was nice not to be alone through the ordeal. The last—and first—time I was in urgent care, I had some awful virus that made it so I couldn’t keep anything down. I became dehydrated and lethargic to the point I dragged myself to the hospital and they kept me overnight. Not one person missed me or even knew where I was.

  Today though . . . I turned toward Porter. He was there to hold my hand when the doctor tortured me by examining my ankle. I’m pretty sure he paid my hefty copay too. That, I wasn’t happy about, but when I checked out, I was told there was nothing to pay. When I questioned the woman over and over about it, I noticed the covert glance she gave Porter. I suppose it wasn’t entirely covert since I noticed.

  Porter glanced my way and smiled. “Is that a no, you aren’t okay?”

  “Never better.” I faced forward.

  “Do you want to grab something to eat? You must be hungry.”

  I shook my head. “I’m tired and I have some research to do tonight.”

  “Understandable.” He began to hum along with the tune on the radio, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “Holland,” he sounded nervous.

  “Yes?”

  “I talked to Natalie about your injury when you were back in x-ray. And . . . well . . .”

  I faced him, not sure why he was acting nervous all of a sudden.

  “She brought up a good point . . .”

  “And what would that be?”

  “You live on the third floor.”

  “Yes . . .”

  “How do you plan on getting up and down the stairs in your condition?”

  “I’ll use the crutches or hop.”

  “How are you going to get to school without a car?”

  “That’s what the crutches are for?” Why was this a question?

  His head jerked my way. “How far is campus?”

  “Around a mile.”

  “What about public transportation?”

  My nose crinkled. “I avoid it at all costs; besides, it doesn’t always run as early as I need it to in the mornings.”

  “How early do you leave?”

  “Sometimes before six.”

  “In the morning?” I couldn’t tell if he thought I was crazy or if he was upset.

  “Of course in the morning. I get a lot more done in the lab when I’m there by myself.”

  He shook his head. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “Does this all have a point?”

  His chest rose and fell in a dramatic fashion. “Natalie thinks, and I agree, you should come stay with us until your ankle’s healed. We can drive you back and forth to school.”

  The crazy weekend I’d had, combined with exhaustion and the insane idea that came out of his mouth made me laugh. The kind of laugh that had me holding onto my middle. I hadn’t laughed like that in, well . . . since . . . since him.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  He stopped at a red light a few blocks from my apartment, allowing him to focus on me. A pained expression marked his handsome features. “Holland, I’m being serious. You heard the doctor, if you don’t stay off that foot, you could cause irreparable damage or even an infection.”

  “I have every intention of staying off it.” I was well aware of how a body worked.

  “Your current situation is going to make that difficult.”

  “Difficult, but not impossible.” I may have smirked. I wasn’t sure I had ever really done that before. I kind of liked it.

  He threw his hands up. “Why do you have to be so obstinate?”

  I turned from him and folded my arms. “I’m not. I just do what I have to do to make it work.”

  “Hey,” his tone softened. He r
ested his warm hand on my bare shoulder. “We only want to help.”

  From the corner of my eye I looked at his strong hand resting on my shoulder. My shoulder twitched as if to say, times up. “I appreciate that, but really, I can handle this.”

  He reluctantly dropped his hand, frustrated, by the sound of his sigh. “Do you at least have a friend you can call to pick you up?”

  Admitting the truth to him was more than I could handle. I didn’t want him to know how truly alone I was, even if it was by choice. “My P.I. might be able to give me a ride home in the evenings.” Which meant I would have to leave on time. I suppose it wouldn’t kill me.

  “You have a private investigator?”

  I grinned. “Principal investigator. She’s in charge of the lab and basically my life.”

  “Ah. What about in the mornings?”

  “Don’t you worry, Porter Clairborne, I’m going to be okay.”

  “I’m happy one of us will be.”

  ~*~

  I thought the first time Porter took me on a date and drove me home—or at least a block from where I lived since my aunt would have probably kicked me out had she known I was dating—was awkward. Neither of us had been sure what to do. Porter ended up going in for a hug, but me being so inexperienced, I threw my head up at the wrong moment and clocked him in the chin. After we both rubbed our affected body parts, he wrapped me up tight, not once drawing attention to my amateur move. Instead he’d whispered, “Best first date ever.”

  It had been. So simple, so sweet. We’d sat on the tailgate of his truck, devouring a carton of frozen yogurt, watching the sun set, and talking about everything and nothing.

  Now here we stood at my door after the arduous and painful trip up the stairs. I swore Porter shook his head at me the entire time. I did my best to hide how uncomfortable and difficult it was. My underarms already burned, and maneuvering the crutches wasn’t an easy task. Not to mention how much my ankle hurt. I made it through the periodic table a good ten times in my head trying to fight through the pain. I hadn’t had a chance to take the anti-inflammatory they’d prescribed me yet. Porter stayed silent but brooding. He knew it would do no good to ask if he could help; I wasn’t going to accept it. I had to get used to doing it on my own.