A Timeless Romance Anthology: Spring Vacation Collection (5 page)

“It was a valiant attempt, but I think she had other motivations when she invited me along.”

Sarah didn’t respond. A quick glance at her showed that she was uncomfortable with his comment. He kicked himself mentally and tried to change the subject. “So, after Clint’s shoe issues, you went back to the beach alone?”

Sarah nodded, but then looked down at her clothes and dismay registered on her face. “Oh my gosh, no one was supposed to see me like this.” She wrapped the arm not covering her eye across her stomach as though she could hide her t-shirt from view. The shirt had a tire store logo on the back.

Mark couldn’t help but laugh. “You look great.”

She turned to look at him. “I must not be the only one who’s blind at the moment.”

“Seriously, you look cute.”

He heard her say “cute” under her breath, as though she couldn’t even entertain such an idea.

He smiled and attempted to change the subject. “How was the beach? Before I blinded you with my mad skills, that is.”

“It was nice,” she said, but he could hear insecurity in her tone. He hated that. The last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable. They reached the elevator, and he pushed the up button. The doors opened immediately, and she told him that her room was on the third floor. He and Clint were on the second.

“I love the beach,” Mark said, hoping to distract her from her discomfort and continue the conversation. “But especially at night.”

“Have you been to beaches before?”

“Some,” he said, finding her question interesting. “Mostly on the Washington coast. How about you? Are you a beach dweller?”

“I live in Omaha,” Sarah said as the elevator opened. He waved for her to exit before him and she dipped her head in thanks.

“Right, but do you like beach vacations?” Mark said as he hurried to catch up with her.

“This is my first one.”

“Really? What do you think so far? Try not to let the partial blindness influence your answer too much.”

She slowed down in front of a door and pulled her room key out of her pocket. “I like it,” she said simply. “A lot.”

She let herself in, and he expected her to dismiss him with a “thank you.” When she didn’t, he stepped forward and held the door open while she headed to the bathroom. He could still see her from where he stood.

“This is why I didn’t wear contacts for so long,” she said as she dug through a bright pink bag. She pulled out a glasses case, then fumbled some more. “I never know when I should and shouldn’t wear them.”

She removed her contact case from the bag and leaned over the sink, holding one eye open with the other hand so that she could take out the first contact. “So, did you grow up in Seattle?” she asked after removing the contact, putting it in her hand, and then squeezing contact solution into her palm. “You don’t talk much about yourself.”

“Portland,” he said, not sure he was comfortable with the direction this conversation was going and noting that no one had asked much about her at their dinners either. Clint and Brylee had dominated the conversation.

“Is your family still there?” She took out the second contact and blinked several times.

Mark paused for half a beat then spoke—there was no point in hiding anything. “My dad passed away a few years ago. After that, my mom and brother moved in with me in Seattle.”

“They live with you?” Sarah said, screwing the caps onto her contact case while turning to look at him. He felt himself bracing for her reaction—women didn’t typically find a man living with his mother to be a positive trait. But he saw no judgment in her expression and heard no censure in her tone.

“Dillon—my brother—has cerebral palsy and is confined to a wheelchair most of the time. Mom can’t take care of him on her own.”

“They live with you so you can help with your brother?” Sarah asked. Was that sympathy he saw in her eyes? Understanding? Pity?
Please don’t let it be pity.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “It works well for all of us. A home nurse comes in every morning during the week to help my mom get Dillon up and I’m usually home by 4:00 to help with the evening stuff.”

“What do they do when you’re not there, like this weekend?”

“A care center nearby does respite care. Mom’s in Portland for a few days to see some old friends while I’m gone. She doesn’t get to do that very often.”

Sarah was still watching him. He was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the idea that she might think he was a pathetic Mama’s boy. “What about you?” he asked. “Who’s taking care of your daughter while you’re on this trip?”

Chapter Eight

Sarah stared at Mark.
He knows about Rose? How?
But then she remembered how he’d recognized her from their orientation two years ago. An orientation where she’d completely embarrassed herself by breaking down when she’d talked about Rose during her introduction.

The silence stretched a few seconds past awkward before she opened her mouth to say something, only to find no words. Mark had a disabled brother who he helped care for, and he didn’t keep it from people. What if he’d told Clint about Rose? She wasn’t completely sure why the idea horrified her so much, but it did.

“Are you okay?” Mark asked, looking concerned.

“I’m fine.” But her voice cracked, and she clenched her eyes shut in frustration.

“Did I say something wrong?”

She let out a breath.
No, I did. Or rather, I didn’t say something I should have.

“No.” Her stomach started to burn. “I’m just… well, Clint doesn’t know about Rose.”

“I’d wondered about that,” Mark said, his voice even, steady, and calm. “He didn’t say anything about her.”

“You didn’t tell him did you?” She asked, pleaded, really, then realized how bad that sounded. “It’s not cause I’m embarrassed by her or anything,” Sarah said, wincing at her choice of words. “Gosh, that sounds bad, it’s just that… I just…” How could she explain this? She hadn’t told Clint about her daughter because she thought it would change his feelings toward her?

“We’re just supposed to have a good time together, ya know? And Rose is … complicated.” She closed her eyes, sickened by what she’d said and horrified that it was true. She really had come on a weekend with a man she didn’t trust enough to tell about her daughter. Since meeting Clint in person, she’d never once considered telling him about Rose.

Yet she harbored some hope that there might be a future here?

She raised both hands in front of her face, wishing she could disappear completely.

“I get it,” Mark said.

She was still covering her eyes like a child; like Rose did whenever she did something wrong. Mark
didn’t
get it; he
didn’t
understand. “I’m not explaining this well,” she said, lowering her hands. “I just…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, and though he smiled on his way back into the hallway, it was too polite to be genuine. “I won’t tell Clint. I hope your eyes will be okay. Have a good night, Sarah.”

Chapter Nine

Brylee didn’t come back to the room until almost two, but come morning, Sarah was willing to bet that she’d had the worse night’s sleep. Clint texted with a time and place the four of them could meet for breakfast.

“You okay?” Brylee asked after she’d showered and gotten dressed. “You look … stressed.”

“I’m fine.” Sarah simply didn’t know how to form the words to explain what had happened with Mark. “How was the club?”

“Fun,” Brylee said. “Mark didn’t stay too long, though, which was a bummer. He seems like a really nice guy.” She was buckling a sandal as she turned her head to look at Sarah. “Don’t you think?”

“He does seem like a nice guy,” Sarah said while gathering the clothes she planned to wear today.

“So how did everything go with Clint last night?” She waggled her eyebrows. Sarah explained what had happened with Clint and his shoes.

Brylee nodded in understanding. “I have a couple pair of shoes that, if they got drenched like that, I would lose my mind over.”

Sarah smiled in response and got into the shower, dreading the moment she’d have to face Mark again. When she attempted to put in her contacts, she realized that one of them had been scratched. She would have to wear her glasses today, a thought that did nothing to boost her confidence.

Mark didn’t meet them for breakfast. When Brylee asked about him, Clint said he’d be joining them later. “He had to call home or something—did you know he still lives with his mom?” He rolled his eyes. Brylee and Sarah both gave weak smiles in response.

Clint thanked her for rescuing his shoes, which she’d brought with her, but he made it sound as if he’d done Sarah a favor to let her fix them. “You ready to go snorkeling?”

“Sounds fun,” Sarah said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster as she picked at her fruit plate. “I’ve never snorkeled before.”

“You know you can’t snorkel in glasses, right?” Brylee asked.

Sarah looked up. “But I ruined my contacts last night.”

“How?” Brylee asked.

“Um, I went for a walk on the beach, and got ocean water in my eyes.”

“You didn’t bring an extra pair?” Clint asked.

“I didn’t think I’d need any. Maybe you guys should just go.” Hiding in her room today sounded like a really good idea.

Brylee and Clint wouldn’t have it though, and they convinced her to go with them, saying that maybe the company would have some prescription goggles. Mark joined them at the last minute, and although he was as polite as ever, he didn’t make eye contact with her like he used to. She hoped his call home was typical, and that nothing was wrong with Dillon.

The company they rented the snorkeling gear from did not have prescription goggles, and although Sarah tried to snorkel without her glasses, watching colored blobs float back and forth beneath her didn’t hold her interest for long. She got out of the water a full forty minutes before the others did, then sat back through lunch at an open-air café on the beach where they talked about the things they’d seen. Both Clint and Mark had scuba-dived in the past, and Brylee wanted to learn how, so the conversation eventually drifted to that topic—another one Sarah couldn’t participate in.

Maybe in an attempt to draw her into the conversation, Clint asked if she’d ever wanted to scuba dive.

“Can’t say that it’s ever crossed my mind,” she said. “I swam in high school, though.”

The table was quiet. Apparently high-school swim team wasn’t close enough to the topic at hand.

“I love swimming,” Mark said, glancing at her ever so quickly before busying himself with his hamburger. “What was your stroke?”

“Butterfly mostly,” Sarah said, unsure how to feel about him talking to her. Did it mean he’d forgiven her? Or was he such a nice guy that he wanted to make sure she was included, even if he thought she was a putz?

“Tough stroke,” Mark said. “What was your fastest time?”

Clint signaled the waiter for a beer; Sarah could tell he was bored by the conversation. She sent a grateful smile to Mark, who looked away without returning it, before shifting the conversation back to Clint again, who seemed to be his favorite subject. She didn’t like being the center of attention. “Is there much surfing here on Cozumel?”

Talk of surfing took them through the rest of lunch—there was no great surfing in Cozumel, she learned. They took a cab back to the hotel. Brylee wanted to sunbathe, and Clint and Mark were both up to a little sun as well, but Sarah begged off with the excuse of a non-existent headache.

Once alone in her hotel room, she flopped on the bed and tried not to cry. She had so wanted this weekend to fit the fantasy she’d structured around it. Instead of magic, she’d felt nothing but nervous around Clint, and their time together had showcased the kind of qualities she couldn’t admire for a weekend, let alone for any period of time beyond it. It was discouraging, and yet she felt surprisingly calm about admitting those things to herself. The goal of this weekend was to test the waters, and she didn’t want to go in any further than she already had.

Without warning, Mark came to mind, and she felt her face burn. He had been so nice to her all weekend; even today, when he had every reason not to, he’d tried to involve her in the conversation. He’d helped her with Clint that night in the bar, and he’d remembered her from a brief encounter two years ago. What he would do if Rose dumped his shoes in the toilet? She finally let her tears fall as she accepted the fact that she’d pinned her hopes on the wrong man, and in the process, had pushed away the better one.

Chapter Ten

Sarah felt a little better when she woke up from the nap that had followed her pity party. She still had a full day left of this vacation, and she really did want to have a good time. She took another shower and determined that while she wouldn’t make a big deal about her shifting feelings for Clint, she would try not to be alone with him again either.

She also hoped for a chance to explain herself to Mark. She didn’t want to revisit the subject, but she wanted to leave it unspoken even less. After this weekend, there was little chance of her seeing him again, other than at the conference next year. Even so, she wanted to try to redeem herself in his eyes, if she could.

Brylee came in around five o’clock and told Sarah about all the fun she’d missed. They’d played beach volleyball, and apparently, became the team to beat. “We’re meeting at The Carlos in an hour. You feeling better?”

“I am,” Sarah said, glad to be able to say so without feeling like a liar. “Um, can you do me a favor and help me not end up one-on-one with Clint tonight?”

Brylee stopped re-ponytailing her hair and looked at Sarah in the mirror. “What? Why?”

To her credit, Brylee didn’t argue after Sarah explained what had happened with Mark last night and what she’d realized about her feelings toward Clint today. “I just want to enjoy the rest of the weekend,
without
ruining it for everyone else.”

When they arrived at the restaurant, Clint tried to give Sarah a kiss on the cheek, but she turned it into an awkward hug and quickly took her seat. She had hoped to change his expectations without having to say so, but prepared herself for a conversation about it if that’s what it took. For now, she tried to ignore the frustrated look he gave her, hoping to at least postpone the conversation until after the meal. Clint threw back two beers before their entrees arrived.