Second Chance in Paradise

by Jennifer Peel

  I tucked some errant strands of hair behind my ear. “Honestly, I thought I was okay until today.”

  She gave me the tenderest of looks. “You are more than okay, but sometimes we need course corrections. I have found they are always difficult, but I come out happier when I take the harder road.”

  “Was Mr. Clairborne one of those roads?”

  “The hardest, bumpiest, best road yet.”

  I was about to ask her how she knew he was the right road when Porter knocked on the door before letting himself in. “Hey, I was . . .” He paused and zeroed in on my tear-stained cheeks. “Everything okay?”

  I nodded.

  Natalie turned around to address her son. “Just having some girl talk. What are you up to?”

  “I was heading over to the hotel to talk to Dad and I was wondering if Holland wanted to come with me.” His smile implored me to say yes.

  Not sure why, but I looked at Natalie for guidance as to how I should respond.

  “Put a seatbelt on and hold on tight.” She gave me a wink of encouragement.

  Porter cocked his head, confused by her advice.

  I took a deep breath and looked down at the hoodie and jeans I was still wearing. “Let me change and freshen up.”

  “Great.” He sounded surprised I agreed.

  He wasn’t the only one.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Do you mind if we take the golf cart? There’s a cargo box in the back where we can put your crutches.” Porter watched me traverse the front porch steps. He kept his hands out, ready to catch me if needed.

  I took my time down the steps. I didn’t need any more embarrassing moments in front of him. “That’s fine.”

  The weather was beautiful. Warm sea air and sunshine engulfed me. I’d missed it. I watched Porter watch me, and I missed him too. I didn’t know what that meant. His mom’s questions bounced around in my cerebrum. Did I still love her son? Or a better question would be, did I ever stop loving him? That thought had me pausing on the last step as if some sort of epiphany hit me. I shook my head, hoping that would help shake off the crazy thought.

  Porter stepped forward ready to act, mistaking my pause as something to be worried about. Believe me, it was.

  “You okay?” He restrained himself from touching me. From the way he flexed his hands, I would say it wasn’t easy for him.

  “I’m good.”

  His eyes roved over my body, especially my now bare legs in shorts. Natalie had helped me freshen up. She and I had different ideas about what that meant. I meant changing my clothes and maybe throwing on some lip gloss. Instead, I was treated to a makeover and sea salt scrub on my legs. They were smooth and shiny now. And I don’t know what she did to my eyelashes, but they never looked so long. And the eyeshadow she used had my eyes looking greener than ever. She brushed and smoothed out my strawberry-blonde hair before tying it up in some sort of fancy knot. I think if I’d tried to do that, I would have hurt myself. I’d never been so pampered. She even put some homemade salve on my ankle and re-wrapped it for me.

  Porter stood right below me, making him eye level with me. Our faces came so very close. “You are good . . . and so beautiful.”

  My heart went into arrhythmia again. “I’m not sure how I feel about you saying things like that.”

  He wasn’t deterred. He moved in so close I could feel his warm breath. I wanted to swim in it.

  “Maybe if you returned the compliment, you would feel better about it.”

  He got an eye roll and a smile. “Or I could hit you with one of my crutches.”

  “I probably deserve it.” He was using intimate tones.

  I could only nod. My voice got caught in my throat. I cleared it out. “We should go.”

  He didn’t move. He continued to take me in. “I like it right here.”

  “That’s because you aren’t standing on crutches.” My underarms were aching.

  “Right.” He stepped back giving me room to step down. “Sorry. I’ll stare at you in the golf cart.”

  “That sounds dangerous.”

  “You have no idea.”

  I followed him to the waiting cart on their brick paver driveway. “I’m not falling for any of your cheesy lines, by the way.”

  His laughter rang in the air. “You say that now, but I think you are going to be impressed with my lineup. Do you see what I just did there with lineup?”

  “No. Could you explain it to me?” I tried to keep a straight face. Not to brag, but I had an above average IQ.

  He stopped and thought for a second, let down I didn’t get his play on words, until my mouth betrayed me and twitched.

  “Are you teasing me, Holland Reeves?” He edged closer, ready to pounce on me.

  I backed up. “I’m on crutches.” I leaned on the left crutch for support while holding up the right, warning him to keep his distance.

  Mischief danced in his eyes. “Your smile is not intimidating at all.”

  “Can we go?” I was half terrified he would take me up in his arms and half longing for it.

  A debate raged in his eyes. He finally breathed out, “Fine, but admit it, you kind of like me.”

  I lowered my crutch. “Where’s your scientific evidence to support your hypothesis?”

  His laugh floated out in the salt air. “Your science speak turns me on. So does that smile of yours.”

  I pressed my lips together.

  “You don’t have to admit it; I know.”

  I’m glad one of us knew.

  I did my best to take in the scenery on the short drive over. The outdoor scenery, not the handsome man driving at a snail’s pace. I had a feeling he was stalling to meet with his dad. Or it could be how many times he glanced my way.

  Taking the cart allowed us to go the back way into the hotel. They had built a wide wooden path between their home and the resort. It was surrounded by dunes and beachgrass, otherwise known as ammophila breviligulata. Why I knew that, I don’t know. Okay, I did, but it was embarrassing. Only I would spend an hour researching beachgrass for fun. And maybe I told Porter once upon a time that it grows rapidly, producing a hundred clumps per clump annually. He’d laughed and kissed me.

  “What are you meeting your dad for?” I decided I needed to think about something else besides kissing Porter.

  His brows knitted together. “He didn’t like the suggestions I made for the social media campaigns. I’m not surprised.”

  I felt myself wanting to reach out and comfort him by rubbing his neck or resting my hand on his leg. Bare leg. He was back in cargo shorts just like I remembered, except he looked better now. Probably a good idea to keep my hands to myself.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me how difficult your relationship with your dad was?” I knew there was some tension, but it obviously went way beyond what he ever let on to.

  The golf cart screeched to a halt. He threw his arm across me to lighten the impact of the sudden stop. Not realizing where his hand landed. My wide eyes darted down.

  “Sorry.” His hand dropped, but let’s just say I wasn’t sure how sorry he was from the smile he gave me. I’ll give him credit for not lingering.

  I shook my head at him. “I’ll remember that move for future reference.”

  He wagged his eyebrows. “I’m pleading fortunate accident.”

  “How do you plead to my inquiry?”

  He looked past me at the rough waves crashing against the shore. It was a red flag kind of day. His breaths were slow and steady. “There were so many things I wanted to tell you, but I felt like I would come off as a spoiled rich kid. I never wanted you to see me that way. And after everything you dealt with in your life, it seemed inconsequential in comparison.”

  I hesitated to touch him. My hand inched forward and back several times before I reached across the small space between us on the bench seat and rested my hand on his. It was like a homecoming. “Porter.”

  He stared down at our hands before he met my gaze.


  “I never once saw you that way.”

  He wove his fingers between mine and held on like a covalent bond, tight and strong.

  Internally I started listing the atomic weight of each element, trying to process all the sensations coursing through me. Hydrogen: 1.00794, Helium: 4.003. . .

  Porter gave my hand a squeeze. “What do you have going through that head of yours?”

  “The atomic weight of each element,” I admitted, embarrassed.

  His smile warmed me. “Holland, I missed you.”

  “Why didn’t you contact me?” Flew out of my mouth.

  His smile disappeared. “I thought about it every day.”

  “I’m not sure I believe that.” I thought of all his vlogs and pulled my hand away.

  “Hey.” He took my hand right back. “I like that hand, Facebook stalker.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Right. Because you just pulled the names Honey and Skipper out of thin air.”

  “I was looking for some good stripper names once and what do you know? They popped up.”

  His laughter could be heard all through Paradise.

  “Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”

  “This is much more enjoyable.”

  “You and I have different ideas about fun.”

  He gave me the most seductive look. “That’s not true.”

  “You don’t know me anymore,” I stuttered.

  He leaned in closer. “I know you enough to know that,” he used his free hand to run a finger down my neck, leaving a trail of . . . of . . . what were those called? I couldn’t think. He landed on my favorite spot. “If I kissed you right there, you would enjoy it.”

  All at once I wanted him to make good on the threat in his eyes to do just that, but at the same time, I thought this was going too fast. I had thoughts and even feelings to sort out. I pulled away for real this time and rubbed the spot.

  “I’m sorry, Holland.”

  “Don’t be.” I felt as if I couldn’t catch my breath.

  He groaned. “I know you don’t believe me, and I have some explaining and groveling to do, but I missed you, every part of you. And just so you know, they weren’t strippers.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He laughed and took off.

  I was going to need that seatbelt Natalie suggested.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I was transported back in time entering the Clairborne. It was as beautiful as I remembered, from the bone-colored marble floors and the grand cascading staircase, right down to the beautiful mural of Morocco’s Atlantic coast behind the front desk. Not to mention all the gorgeous big, leafy plants placed wherever there was room. And I swore it smelled like oranges and cypress.

  Porter touched the small of my back. “Welcome back.”

  In a weird way, I felt like I had come home. Maybe it wasn’t so weird, considering the two summers I’d spent here were the happiest of my life. The man next to me was a heavy contributor to that. I had dreamt of the moment when we could walk through the doors together as a couple, nothing secret between us or anyone else. Now here we were, but only as . . . I wasn’t quite sure. Exes? Friends? Acquaintances? Maybe more than acquaintances. We were sharing a bathroom after all.

  “Thank you.” I used reverent tones while I took it all in, the sounds, sights, vacationers, and staff.

  “My meeting should take about an hour.” His gaze drifted toward the staircase. The executive offices were upstairs.

  “Okay.”

  “I have a special place set up for you where you can wait.”

  I met his sparkling eyes. “You do?”

  He nodded. “Follow me.”

  I wish I could have ditched the crutches. Not only were they uncomfortable, but I swore Porter kept grazing my hand, which was tightly gripping the crutch. My guess was he wanted to hold it and I wanted the opportunity to at least entertain the possibility. Not that I would, but you never knew. If anyone could convince me, it was him.

  We wended our way through the lobby, then out to one of the verandas near the pools and bar. The warm sea air engulfed me as soon as we walked through a set of double glass doors. It was like entering a new world. The pool glistened under the sun, the beautiful people of the world walked around with umbrella drinks in their hands, laughing and catching rays. Palm trees grew up out of the natural tile that covered the space. Even the white lounge chairs seemed unearthly white. No picture would do it all justice. It was magnificent, even more than I remembered.

  Porter leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Remember our nights in that pool?”

  More like middle of the nights. “Maybe.” I blushed.

  “I would be happy to refresh your memory.”

  Visions of the silky way his fingers ran through my wet hair before gliding down my bare arms all while his mouth consumed mine flooded my mind. My heart raced thinking about it. So many parts of me begged for those memories to come to life again. My cerebrum was a voice of reason, reminding me to take it slow. That conversations needed to take place and feelings needed to be analyzed.

  “We should probably talk first,” he said as if he could read my mind.

  I turned so he could see how sincerely I meant this. “I would like that.”

  He ran the back of his hand down my cheek. “We’ll make a date of it.”

  “A date?” I swallowed down what felt like seven years of second-guessing myself.

  “Yes, a real one. Out in the open this time.”

  “It always felt real to me.” I had this need to be honest with him, even if it meant being more open than I was used to.

  He kissed the top of my head. “For me it was like a dream.”

  “That was a good line.”

  He gave me a crooked grin. “I warned you about my lineup, but that was no line.”

  Someone must have turned up the sun. “You better go.” I needed a moment to breathe.

  “I should, but first let me show you how the Clairborne treats their guests.”

  I never thought I would have that title. Technically I didn’t, but for an hour I would enjoy it.

  Porter led me to my very own lounge chair under a large white umbrella with the Clairborne insignia on it. He took my crutches from me while holding me steady, though his touch had my insides feeling anything but stable. They felt more like vigorous polymerization. Like someone put acrylic acid on the stove and turned it up to high, which was dangerous by the way. Porter’s touch could be categorized the same way. He was causing an internal struggle the size of the long streamer of gas emanating from the galactic center of the M87 galaxy. That streamer of gas was a black hole 6.6 million times the mass of our sun.

  I knew too many weird facts.

  Once Porter had me settled, I let out the breath I was holding too loudly. Porter sat next to me and brushed my bangs. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “Did you know there is a black hole 6.6 million times the mass of our sun?”

  He shook his head with such allure. How did he do that? “I didn’t know that. What is the mass of the sun again?”

  I always loved how he never made me feel like a freak of nature for knowing obscure things off the top of my head. “1.989 × 10^30 kg. Its radius is 432,288 miles.”

  “How did I forget that?”

  A small laugh escaped.

  He took a deep breath and let it out. “I should get going. I’ll be back as soon as I can, so think of some more fun facts to tell me.”

  I had several ready to go. I couldn’t help myself.

  Porter signaled a man at the bar. The man dressed in the khaki shorts and a white polo shirt with the Clairborne logo made his way over with a canvas bag. He was so tan his teeth gleamed an unnatural white. His hair looked like it had an unfortunate accident with an entire bottle of bleach. I needed sunglasses to look at him for more than a few seconds at a time.

  “This is Milo,” Porter introduced him. “He will get yo
u anything you want.”

  “Hello, Miss Holland.” Milo, platinum man, handed me the bag. “Would you like something to drink?”

  Porter looked between me and Milo. “Miss Holland would love a strawberry daiquiri—virgin still, or no?”

  Why wasn’t I surprised he remembered I loved those?

  He looked to me to answer.

  I rubbed my lips together and stared down at the bag in my lap that had some weight to it. Now didn’t seem like a good time to throw in mind-altering substances. “Virgin.”

  Porter’s smile said he wasn’t surprised by my choice. “You heard the lady.”

  Milo didn’t waste a moment and left to fill my order.

  Porter focused on the bag; he was obviously eager for me to open it. “I think you will find everything you could want for the next hour—well, except me—in that bag.”

  I did my best to give him a wry smile. It probably looked more like the Joker’s though. “When did we come to the conclusion I wanted you?”

  “I have an entire dissertation ready to give you, but later,” he teased me. “Open the bag before I go.”

  I could tell he was stalling. It caused a twinge of sadness in me. But I did as he asked. Admittedly, I was curious. I reached in and was met with several different textures and shapes. The first was easy to guess. I pulled out a bag of my favorite chocolate peanut butter cups.

  “I hope you still love those.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  “You’re not done.”

  I dived in again, this time pulling out a tablet. “What’s this for?”

  “It’s my iPad. I bookmarked all those science journals you’re always posting on your Facebook page, in case you wanted to do some light reading. Or I have several hot beach reads ready to go if you’re looking for some inspiration on our spring break.”

  I bit my lip. I’m more than certain I looked like a walrus, but Porter didn’t look put off. His wolfish grin said he enjoyed what he saw and he’d read some of those novels and was full of inspiration.

  My eyes darted back down in an attempt to regain my equilibrium. I pulled out the last two remaining items: sunscreen and one of those instant ice packs that you break up to activate the ingredients inside.