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

by Josi S. Kilpack

  Clint mumbled something she didn’t hear, because she’d already gone to get Brylee, who said goodbye to a guy she’d met at the salsa refill station.

  “So,” Brylee said, nudging Sarah with her shoulder as they headed out of the bar. “I saw you getting all snuggly. How was that?”

  “Weird,” Sarah said, shaking her head at the memory. “He’s wasted.”

  “And?”

  Sarah turned to look at her friend. “And I’d prefer for him to be in his right mind when we…”

  “What?” Brylee said, a teasing glint in her eye as they reached the elevators. “When you what, Sarah?”

  “When we walk on the beach in the moonlight.” Sarah waved toward the windows behind them as the elevator doors opened. “But it’s raining anyway, so I guess I’m taking a rain-check.”

  Brylee laughed at the pun and hit the button inside the elevator. “You’re happy with the way the evening went, though?”

  “Yeah,” Sarah said, but the parts that stood out to her were the meal, Mark helping her understand the game, and Mark getting her out of an awkward situation at the end. She felt guilty, and a little ungrateful, that it wasn’t Clint taking center stage in her memories of their first date. “I think I built this up too much in my head.”

  “What do you mean?” Brylee asked as they stepped off the elevator and headed toward their room.

  “I’m so nervous around Clint,” Sarah said. “I had hoped for this spark between us, ya know? Some … chemistry, I guess, but I’m just so tense.”

  “It’s the first day,” Brylee said. They’d reached their room, and Brylee used her key card to open the door. Sarah followed her in and kicked off her shoes. “And you’re probably right,” Brylee continued. “Nerves can get in the way. I bet tomorrow will be better.”

  “I hope so,” Sarah said, locking the door behind them. Her life was routine, very predictable and safe. She liked those things, which was why accounting worked so well for her as a career. This wasn’t accounting though; it was personable and emotional and … new. “Tomorrow will be better,” she said out loud as a kind of affirmation after Brylee disappeared into the bathroom. “Tomorrow will be great.”

  Chapter Six

  Sarah and Clint sat next to each other at breakfast the next morning. The other conference attendees at their table helped ease Sarah’s nerves and kept the conversation moving. Neither Sarah nor Clint said anything about how last night had ended.

  The day’s classes and events went as expected, and when they were over, the four of them hit the beach in search of a boat that could take them parasailing. The storm from last night had moved on, leaving sunny skies, soft sand, and a glittering ocean for them to enjoy.

  Sarah didn’t think she’d have the guts to parasail—she’d never done anything like that before—but she didn’t back down when her turn came, and then she loved every second of it. Being alone up there, looking down on the ocean and the beach, was completely different than what she had expected—exhilarating, to say the least. When she came in for her landing, Clint, Mark, and Brylee were cheering for her, which felt equally fabulous. Once she was out of the harness, Clint gave her a big hug and kissed her on the cheek.

  She happened to be looking at Mark and Brylee at that moment. Brylee had a big smile on her face and gave Sarah a thumbs-up. Mark looked away. There was no time to ponder on Mark’s reaction, because Brylee announced that it was time for them to get ready for dinner—they had reservations in just over an hour.

  On the way back to the hotel, the two women completely dissected the day, and by the time Sarah was showered and ready for dinner, she felt more confident than ever. She’d had a wonderful time today—unexpectedly good—which would, no doubt, help with her anxiety tonight. She thought about calling Rose but decided not to, wondering if part of her being so on edge last night was because calling her daughter had made Sarah miss her more. If her theory was wrong—and tonight she was as nervous as ever—she’d be sure to call tomorrow.

  Dinner was wonderful—she had an enchilada salad, and Clint had only one glass of wine. The four of them conversed easily and about many topics. Though they had all just met, they felt like old friends, laughing and joking and enjoying the night. When the checks came, Clint paid for her meal, which was both exciting and a little nerve racking. Mark paid for Brylee’s too, though, and there didn’t seem to be anything romantic between them.

  “Anyone up for a walk on the beach?” Clint said when the meal came to an end. The sun had set during their meal, leaving a few swaths of orange across the evening sky.

  Sarah had been aware the entire time that it wasn’t raining tonight. She’d known this would be coming. Yet nerves and butterflies seemed to combine within her chest, making her dizzy with anticipation. “I’d love to,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too nervous or inexperienced.

  “I wanted to check out the club next door,” Brylee chimed in, taking the napkin from her lap and putting it on the table. Sarah knew that what her friend really wanted to do was leave Clint and Sarah. “Mark, would you like to join me?”

  “Um, sure,” he said, scooping the final bite of his dinner with his fork. He’d completely cleaned his plate. Rose got a star on her chart every time she ate her entire dinner. “I can’t say I’m much of a club kid, but I’m happy to head over there with you.”

  “Maybe I’ll make you into a club kid by the end of the night,” Brylee said with a smile. A pang of jealousy took Sarah off guard, but she didn’t know where it came from. She wasn’t jealous of them going to a club—not by a long shot. Was she jealous that Brylee was spending the rest of the evening with Mark? Sarah mentally shook her head—it was probably nerves again, masking what she really felt.

  The night was breezy but warm when Sarah and Clint left for the beach. The half-moon gave everything a shimmery look as the sun disappeared from the sky. Sarah felt like someone from a postcard as she reached down and took off her shoes so she could feel the sand beneath her feet. It felt different than sandbox-sand—softer and finer. Sarah had been to some of the lakes in Nebraska, and some of them had sand on their shorelines, but this was different than that, too.

  “I’ve never been to a beach before,” she said when they reached the wet sand. She looked behind her at the near perfect indentation of her footprints and smiled. Someday she needed to bring Rose to a beach like this. She would love playing in the sand and watching her footprints fill up with water. She looked over at Clint walking a few feet away. The wind had messed up his hair just enough to take him from handsome to devastatingly so. Will he kiss me tonight? Will I let him this time?

  “You’ve never been to any beach, or a Mexican beach?”

  “Any beach,” Sarah said, facing forward again. She shook her head, letting the breeze catch her hair and lift it off her neck. “Well, if you don’t count the lakes in Nebraska—I’ve been to a few of those, but they aren’t anything like this.”

  “Seriously?”

  His comment pulled her back from the moment she was getting lost in. Normal people with normal lives vacationed on beaches sometimes, didn’t they? The reminder that she wasn’t normal raised her insecurity, but she tried to push them away. “But I’ve been to Mount Rushmore about eighty times. That helps make up for it, right?”

  Clint laughed, and she relaxed a little. “I love the ocean,” he said, waving his hand at the water, which disappeared on the horizon. “I grew up in Santa Barbara and would love to move back one day—I miss early-morning surfing and taking a boat out to Catalina.”

  “No surfing in Washington?”

  He looked at her in surprise. “You’ve never been to the Pacific Northwest either, have you?”

  “Nope,” she said, her insecurity knocking again. “I’d like to one day, though.” Maybe to see you, she added in her mind.

  Waves crashed several feet to her right before stretching within a few feet of where they walked, as though each wave were trying to reach her. She v
eered a little closer to the water so she could walk in the surf, glad her dress only went to her knees.

  Clint moved a little closer to the water as well, but he hadn’t taken his shoes off so he didn’t go as close as she did. The next wave washed over Sarah’s toes—the water was warmer than she’d expected. “So basically, you need a man to show you the world,” he said, giving her a coy grin.

  Her stomach flipped—this was the first time he’d ever said anything about a possible future between them. Did that mean he liked her? That he could envision them seeing each other after this weekend?

  “The world?” she repeated. “I’d be happy to go to Des Moines.”

  Clint laughed at that. “You’ll be easy to please.”

  She looked over and smiled; he smiled back and reached for her hand, the one that wasn’t holding her shoes. Whatever she’d been thinking to say completely left her brain as she watched him move closer. Oh my gosh, he’s going to kiss me! What do I do? Let him? Slap him? Run?

  “I’ve really liked getting to know you better here in Cozumel. It’s a perfect romantic getaway, don’t you think?” He ran his thumb across the back of her hand.

  Sarah was mesmerized, her head going further back so she could see him as he moved closer. The waves crashed in the background. Music from a restaurant farther up the beach filtered down to them. The breeze blew her hair across her face. He lifted his other hand to brush it away.

  Sarah was speechless. Is this happening? Am I ready?

  “I’m a big believer in chemistry,” he said, only inches from her face now. “And you look amazing in that dress, the way it … what the—” He looked down, jumped back and dropped her hand.

  She looked down too, but couldn’t figure out what he was freaking out about until he said, “My shoes!” and took off running for the softer sand higher up the beach, shaking his shoes as though that could spare them from the salt-water bath they’d just had. The bottom two inches of his pants were soaked.

  Sarah hurried up the beach after him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me the water was coming so far up the beach?” he snapped when she reached him. He sat on a low cement wall and was pulling off his shoes, scowling.

  “I didn’t notice,” she said, tempted to add that she’d been too spellbound by him to keep track of the surf. “I’m so sorry.”

  He had both shoes off and lifted them up, dripping. “I can’t believe this,” he said. “They’re ruined; I just bought them.”

  “You might be able to save them, at home I always—”

  “You’re from Omaha,” he said, making her take a step back as he looked up at her. “I don’t think you’re an expert on how to save shoes from salt water.” A moment later, he softened a little and looked back at his shoes. “I’m sorry. These are just really expensive.”

  Sarah swallowed her hurt feelings, justifying his reaction with the fact that he really had ruined a pair of brand new shoes. “I might be able to fix them.”

  He looked at her skeptically. “Really?”

  “I’ve learned a few tricks over the years,” she said, keeping to herself that she’d learned those tricks because Rose absolutely adored jumping in puddles after it rained and had a penchant for dunking stray shoes in toilets.

  She put her free hand out. “I’ll take them back to my room and see what I can do tonight.” Sarah smiled in anticipation of him laughing about all of this—it was kind of funny, right? And they’d had such a nice day.

  Instead of laughing, he cursed and shook his head before sitting back down and peeling off his wet socks as well. “Awesome,” he said under his breath as he threw the wet socks into the bushes. He took a deep breath and pushed his fingers through his hair.

  The briefest thought crossed her mind—what would he do if Rose dumped his shoes in the toilet?

  “Hey,” she said after a few more seconds. He looked up with an aggravated expression. She held up his shoes. “I’d better take care of these before the leather starts to warp. I’ll call you in the morning and let you know if the shoes work out, okay?”

  “Alright,” he said, standing and scowling at his feet covered in sand. “But I doubt you’ll be able to save them. They got completely soaked.”

  “I’ll give it my best shot,” she said, still smiling, even though she no longer felt it. He wasn’t going to apologize for making such a big deal about wet shoes? Or thank her for trying to save them?

  He did open the door for her when they got back to the hotel, and they hugged—somewhat awkwardly, since she had two pairs of shoes in hand—before parting ways in the lobby. After he disappeared in the direction of the elevators, she went to the front desk and asked for some old newspapers.

  Brylee wasn’t in the room when Sarah returned, which didn’t surprise her since she and Clint hadn’t been on the beach very long. Half an hour later, after thoroughly washing the salt from Clint’s shoes, Sarah crumbled up the newspaper and shoved them inside the wet leather, then put the shoes on top of the air conditioning unit, which she turned to FAN ONLY. She hung her dress in the closet, put on her PJs in preparation for an early bedtime, and once in front of the mirror to take off her makeup, dared ask herself a question that had been tapping at her consciousness. Were the interactions she’d had with Clint so far strengthening her feelings toward him?

  She closed her eyes against whatever answer might come. She was invested in this weekend. She wanted so much for it to work. She opened her eyes and found herself staring at the window. She went to it and looked out over the beach in search of distraction from thoughts she didn’t want to ponder. It had only been two days; she needed to keep an open mind.

  The waves crashing onto the beach seemed to be calling to her, calming her, taking away her growing doubts. She was in Cozumel, Mexico, a place she might never see again. What on earth was she doing in her hotel room?

  Chapter Seven

  “You’re sure you don’t want to stay?” Brylee shouted at Mark, trying to be heard above the thumping music and other screaming patrons at the club.

  “I’m sure!” Mark screamed back. “Thanks for inviting me, though. It’s been fun. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

  “Okay!” Brylee gave him a thumbs-up sign.

  She melted back onto the dance floor, and Mark headed toward the exit, glad to have stayed long enough to be able to leave without being rude. He’d danced a little at the beginning then hung back by the bar and talked to a few people he knew from the conference. Though he could handle pretty much any kind of setting, he was happy to escape this one.

  When he exited the club, the silence was jarring, and he let out a breath of relief amid the ringing in his ears. He headed toward the hotel, but in the space between the buildings caught sight of the moonlit waves. Without any need to contemplate other options, he turned onto the walkway that would take him to the beach. When he reached the sand, he left his shoes on an empty beach chair and rolled up the legs of his pants. A minute later, the warm Caribbean waters washed over his feet, and he smiled as he started walking along the waterline. His feet sank into the sand with every step. He watched the wet sand in front of him while thinking about the evening.

  Dinner hadn’t gone as bad as he’d feared it would—Clint hadn’t been all over Sarah this time—but part of him had hoped she’d distance herself after his embarrassing behavior at the bar. Instead, she’d agreed to walk the beach with him, alone. The memory of last night, seeing Clint slobber all over her, was almost more than Mark could bear. The only reason he hadn’t left the table was because he could feel her panic rising. He didn’t think he’d ever felt someone else’s anxiety in his life. It was a relief when she’d looked to him for help, and it had been all Mark could do to stay calm and reasonable as he helped her get out of there.

  Where were Sarah and Clint now? What were they were doing? Mark wasn’t there to help this time if she needed him, and he hoped she wouldn’t get herself into a compromising situation. His impressions of her and
Clint’s continued expectations were at such odds with each other, that he couldn’t decide for sure what hers were for this weekend.

  After she’d left the bar last night, Clint had told him not to interfere again. “If I don’t get lucky by the end of this trip, I’m blaming you.”

  Another wave washed over Mark’s feet. Again, he wondered what could have been if he’d followed up on his interest in Sarah two years ago. “Probably nothing,” he said aloud. Yet what if that had been his opportunity? What if he’d missed his chance? She was attractive, and kind, and she would understand what it meant for him to have Dillon in his life. But she was here with Clint. And Clint planned to get lucky. The thought made Mark take a deep breath and consciously unclench his jaw.

  “You are insane,” he said and kicked at the surf, sending foam and water into the air a split second before he heard a startled scream a few feet away. He looked up “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”

  The woman he’d kicked water at was wiping at her eyes as she hurried up the beach. He ran after her. “I didn’t see you there, I’m so sorry. Wait, Sarah? Is that you?”

  “Yeah.” She was still blinking quickly and dabbing at her eyes. “I thought that was you. I was coming to say hi.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he said for a third time. There was a deck chair a few yards away, set under a light. “You can sit down up there.”

  “I, uh, can’t see.”

  Mark hesitated a moment before stepping forward and putting one hand around her back and guiding her toward the chair, apologizing for a fourth time. She fit within the length of his arm perfectly, and though he told himself again that he was nuts, he could swear he felt something when he touched her, a whisper of energy he wished he understood.

  “It’s okay,” Sarah said.

  He relaxed when she didn’t sound mad.

  “You were watching the waves.” She was still blinking a hundred miles an hour. “Dang, that salt water really burns. I think it got under my contacts. I should have taken them out before I came down to the beach.”