Island of Second Chances

by Cara Lockwood

“Maybe. For all I know, you set that fire on purpose so I’d come running and save you.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  She took a sip of beer, savoring the cold, crispness as it slid down her throat. Already, she began to feel the tightness in her stomach relax as the second beer hit her stomach, and she glanced out across the dark ocean waves. Above the water, thousands of stars glistened. “Maybe you like pretty ladies who also put out fires.”

  He laughed. “Maybe,” he agreed.

  Were they flirting? Laura wondered. It had been so long since she’d even been interested in flirting, she couldn’t say. Surely not.

  She studied him. He was attractive—if you went for lean, muscled guys. With just a hint of gray at the temples and dark eyes that never missed a move. She would’ve put herself in that category, before Dean. Before losing her baby.

  He took a swig of beer and glanced up at the star-filled sky. Then, he glanced back at her. “So? Go on. Tell me about your day. It had to be bad for you to suck down that beer so fast. What’s driven you to drink?”

  “Oh. You don’t want to hear about my problems.” She couldn’t imagine he’d be the least bit interested.

  “Actually, I would,” he said, leaning back in his deck chair and getting comfortable as he stretched his long, tanned legs out in front of him. “I’m bored to death of my own problems. I need a change of pace.”

  “Well...” Laura hesitated. Was she really going to pour her heart out to a stranger she barely knew? Tell him secrets she’d not even told her closest friends in San Francisco who had no idea about the baby or Dean? “I don’t know. Most of my friends don’t even know what’s been going on. It’s not the kind of thing I can really share.”

  “Okay,” he said, setting his beer down by the leg of his chair. “Let’s break this down. So you’re here for how long?”

  “A month. I don’t know. I haven’t exactly made a plan.” She shrugged. She’d never imagine she’d be on such an open-ended trip before. But then again, she’d never imagined she’d have an affair, either. Life was full of surprises.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Miss Noise Pollution doesn’t have a plan? I have to say, I’m surprised.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought you’d have your whole life planned out in one of those—what do they call them? Day riders? Runners? Calendar whatevers?”

  “I like calendar whatevers, and no, I don’t.” Actually, she used to. Not that she had a physical calendar she carried around, but her online calendar was extensive. She even used to put major milestones in it, like ask for a raise, or look for a new job with more responsibilities. She’d been that odd job candidate who relished answering the question, what’s your five-year plan? She always had an answer.

  Now? Not so much.

  “I used to be a planner,” she admitted. “But that was before I learned that the old joke, ‘how do you make God laugh? Make a plan,’ was actually no joke.”

  Mark nodded, agreeing. “Amen, sister,” he said and they clinked beer bottles.

  Laura realized she was having a good time. Amazing, but true.

  “So back to how horrible your day was,” Mark said.

  “I thought we’d let that go.”

  “Oh, no. I don’t let anything go.” Mark flashed another grin. “So you don’t know how long you’re staying, but I’m guessing you aren’t moving here for good.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Okay, then. A month. Maybe two at most you’ll be here, living above me. Then, you’re probably never going to see me again. So what’s the harm in telling me something? I don’t know any of your friends. I won’t tell any of them.”

  He had a point there. She sighed. “Where do you want me to start?”

  “Wherever you’d like. The workday is done. I’ve got a beer in my hand and I don’t have anywhere to be, except out here, enjoying this.” He lifted his beer bottle to the scenic view before them of the dark waves glistening in the moonlight. He had a point.

  The beer helped her shed her inhibitions, and she forgot why she shouldn’t tell this man everything. He seemed like he really wanted to know. And he was right—he was a captive audience. Might as well see if he was a genuinely sympathetic ear.

  “Well,” she said. “It all started with me making the mistake of falling in love with the wrong person.”

  Mark laughed. “What did you go and do that for?”

  “He was charming. And persistent. And he said he loved me.”

  “Oldest tricks in the book,” Mark said and Laura had to laugh a little. She watched his profile in the moonlight. He turned to study her and she felt the weight of his attention.

  “So what made him the wrong man?”

  “For starters?” Laura took a big swig of beer for courage. Here goes nothing, she thought. “He was married.”

  Mark coughed, and for a second, Laura feared he was judging her, like she knew her sister did, like she knew everyone would who ever found out. Only two people actually even knew about the affair: her sister and Dean. She realized she had no idea how a stranger would react. Derision? Probably.

  She deserved it, too, she thought. She could feel the heavy weight of guilt pressing against her shoulder blades. Why had she shared this information? With a man she barely knew?

  She could see his shoulders shaking a little in the moonlight. Was he angry?

  Then he broke the silence with a laugh, and she realized with a start he’d been laughing at her.

  “You?” he managed to sputter. “You had a torrid affair? Miss Noise Pollution?” He laughed a little harder and slapped his own knee.

  Well, this wasn’t the reaction she’d been expecting. A lecture, disapproval, maybe. But laughter? “What’s so funny?”

  “It’s just... I can’t imagine you... You’re so buttoned up. So prim and proper. You, breaking one of the Ten Commandments? I just can’t imagine it.” Mark swiped at his eyes. The man laughed so hard, he actually started to tear up.

  Laura felt a prickle of indignation run down her spine. She wasn’t that straitlaced. Was she?

  “It’s not funny.”

  “It is, though. Have you met you?” He shook his head. “Today, you were wearing a muumuu to the beach, like head-to-toe covered. Not exactly the type to have an affair.”

  “Well, I did. I mean, I didn’t plan on it exactly, but it happened, and I take responsibility for it, but...I mean, it’s not something anybody I know would ever think I’d do, probably.” Laura thought about her small circle of girlfriends, most of whom were married and none of whom she could ever confide in about this. None of them would understand, she knew that for certain.

  “Well, then, you are full of surprises. Here’s to bold women who aren’t afraid to break the rules.” He offered up his beer bottle for a toast. Reluctantly, she clinked the neck of her bottle against his.

  “It’s not something I’m proud of. I don’t even think I should be toasting.” Now, Laura felt weird about it. Was he mocking her? “I mean, have you cheated?”

  “Nope,” he said, taking a big drink. “Was cheated on, actually. My wife slept with my brother. They’re together now. They’re even...” He bit off the last of his sentence, as if regretting even bringing it up.

  Laura felt the blood drain from her face. Now he’d hate her. He’d have to.

  “Oh... I am so sorry. You must...must hate me. I’ve got to be the kind of person you hate the most. A cheater.”

  “Why? You’re not my brother. Or my wife.” He shrugged one shoulder and took another long drag of beer. “They’re the ones who betrayed me.”

  “But—”

  “Look, your sins aren’t against everybody. I’m sure, Miss Noise Pollution, you had a very good reason for cheating.”

  That was kind of him, she thought, not to plunk her in the category of
horrible person automatically. She knew many people who would.

  Laura thought about Dean’s silky words, about his gentle hands. “Not really. I mean, I thought...I guess I thought it was true love. I thought we were going to be together. But in the end, I’m not going to make excuses. I just wanted to, I guess.”

  “I’m liking you more already,” Mark said, turning his head and grinning. “That’s more than my wife ever admitted.”

  Still, Laura felt rotten. She felt as if she’d wronged him, too, somehow, just being in the camp of women who wore scarlet As on their chests.

  “Come on. I don’t hate you. So what? You had an affair. I mean, I don’t think cheating is right, but at the same time, you’ve got a little bit of an edge to you. One I didn’t expect. I kind of like it.” Mark studied her in the dark and she felt a little unnerved by his gaze. Was he flirting with her? Surely not. Mr. Surly Boat Building Guy? “So did he leave his wife? What happened with Mr. Wrong?”

  “No, he didn’t leave his wife. The opposite, actually.” She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the sound of Dean’s harried voice on the phone, the almost casual way he’d delivered the earthshattering news. “He got her pregnant.”

  Mark whistled low. “Well, that sucks.”

  “Yeah. I just found out today.” She took a long swig of the bottle and found that she’d downed half of this one, too. At this rate, she was going to be drunk very soon. Somehow that thought didn’t seem to bother her in the least. On a day like today, she almost welcomed oblivion. Anything to make her mind stop looking backward.

  “So he’s going to stay with his wife?” Mark leaned over his chair, moving closer to her. “Make a happy little family? Or at least happy until his wife figures out he’s been dipping his wick in other places.”

  She nodded.

  “Well.” Mark slapped his knee. “Can’t say that sounds too good for you.”

  She remembered how Dean had been so disappointed to find out she was pregnant. She wasn’t sorry to lose Dean. He’d proven himself a liar and unworthy of her affection. She knew that on a base level. It wasn’t losing Dean that hurt so much.

  “Well, I don’t want Dean. Dean was a prick.”

  “Dean? His name is Dean? Well, with a name like that, of course he was a prick.” Mark chuckled low and Laura joined him.

  It felt good to hear someone else bash Dean. Hell, it felt good to talk to someone other than her sister. How long had it been since she’d had a real conversation with someone? Ages. The secret of her affair with Dean had driven a wedge between her and all her friends, and she hadn’t been able to talk about it openly, not even the miscarriage. Her friends didn’t even know she’d been pregnant. But she wasn’t ready to tell Mark that. Not that. Not yet. Talking about losing her baby somehow made it even more real.

  He leaned forward. “There’s something more, though, isn’t there?”

  “What do you mean?” Laura suddenly felt defensive. Could he see right through her? How did he know there was more?

  “I mean, there’s more to this story. You’ve lost more than Dean.” He seemed so certain, and yet, how did he know? Did he have ESP?

  “I...” she began, alcohol swirling in her brain. “I don’t know if I want to talk about it. Besides, what about you? I can’t be the only one to spill my guts. If I’m talking about my no-good, horrible day, then you have to tell me why yours was so bad, too.”

  Mark cocked his head to one side. “Fair enough.”

  “What made your day so bad?”

  “My older brother, the one who slept with my wife and stole our company from me, came back and asked me if I’d work for him.”

  Laura coughed, nearly choking on her beer. That sounded like one winner of a sibling. “What did you say?”

  Mark paused and studied the label on his beer. He began picking off the edges. “I said hell no.”

  Laura laughed and offered her bottle up for another toast. “Here’s to the power of no.” They clinked their mostly empty bottles once more and she giggled. “I’m actually having more fun than I’d thought.”

  He glanced at her and grinned. “Me, too.”

  “You’re not as grumpy as I first thought, either.” She gave his bicep a playful shove. She felt the compact muscle there, the solidness of it.

  “What? Me? Grumpy?” Mark laughed as he absorbed her jab. “I’m Mr. Sunshine over here.”

  Now it was Laura’s turn to cackle. “You? Have you met you?” She relished quoting him now that the tables were turned. She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, a gesture she’d meant to be purely platonic, but as her laughter died down, she realized she’d kept her hand there a beat too long.

  Suddenly aware of the heat of his skin, the strength of the muscle beneath, she wondered what his arms might feel like around her, and she remembered the glisten of his muscles in the sunlight just that morning. She wondered what it would feel like to run her hands down his bare arm.

  As soon as the thought popped into her head, she squashed it. What was she doing? She hadn’t thought of a man like that...well, since Dean. And look where that got her. Was she really so eager to jump back into the fray? Was she even ready to have a man touch her again? She had lousy instincts about men. Dean had just proved that.

  She pulled her hand away a bit too quickly, heat creeping up her neck. She glanced quickly at him, but he seemed not to notice, or at least not to register her touch.

  Not that she should be surprised. As if he’d ever in a million years be interested in her. Miss Noise Pollution, he’d called her. Here she was, worried about sleeping with a man who probably had no intention of ever sleeping with her. Her head swam with alcohol and she knew she ought to stop before she truly made a fool of herself.

  “Well.” She put down her now-empty beer bottle. “It’s late. I probably should be going.”

  “Are you serious?” Mark asked, spinning in his chair and gawking at her. “This is what you call drowning your sorrows in alcohol? Honey, you’re a lightweight.”

  “I am not.” Laura lifted her chin in defiance. She wasn’t exactly a heavyweight drinker, but she could hold her own.

  “Then prove it.” He handed her another beer bottle.

  What was this? College? Would he ask her to do a beer bong next? Please. “Come on. Don’t be silly. We’re not twenty.”

  “Nope. We’re not. Thank God.” He grinned. “And I’m glad, because twenty-year-olds know nothing about the world. I’d rather have a seasoned woman any day of the week.”

  Did he mean her? Was he...flirting? She glanced at the bottle in his hand, hesitating. What would one more round really hurt anyway? Mark seemed to sense her indecision. He waggled the beer in front of her.

  “Come on. How miserable are you, really? Just two beers miserable? Because that’s hardly miserable at all.”

  She had to laugh at that. She was far more than two beers miserable.

  “Fine,” she said and grabbed the bottle from his hand. “You win.”

  He chuckled and took another swig of his beer as she started on hers. She’d just stay for one more. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?

  Chapter Five

  LAURA WOKE UP feeling like an elephant had stomped on her head and someone had filled her mouth with sand. Searing white light bashed her closed eyelids, and a pulsing, distant thud of pain thumped in her temples. She feared opening her eyes. The light would no doubt make her hangover ten times worse. All she wanted to do was lie here, very still, and hope to fall back asleep.

  Flashes of the night before came to her. Beer, Mark, laughing...then more beer. She’d drunk her misery away, yes, she had, but she’d also brought more misery to her brain, which right now wanted to crawl out of her skull to get away from this crushing migraine. Her stomach roiled, too, and she felt a wave of nausea overcome her. Not good.
>
  She’d have to open her eyes sometime. She cracked one eye open, expecting to see the palm-tree-decorated comforter on her rental condo bed, but instead found herself lying beneath a gray-striped blanket on a large king-size bed in a room she didn’t recognize.

  Laura sat up in alarm, the sheets falling from her body, and then realized she was wearing nothing but her bra and underwear. Laura covered her chest with her arms and realized with alarm she was sitting in Mark’s bed. In her underwear.

  But where was Mark?

  She listened frantically but heard nothing. Was she alone? What the hell had happened last night?

  Frantically, she searched her memory of the night before. Beers on his deck. Lots of beers. Then... Oh, no. Tequila shots. Did that happen? Yes, she had a fuzzy memory of Mark slicing limes. Tequila was never good. She might as well just hit herself in the head with a rock. Why did she think tequila was a good idea? But then, nothing after that. Oh, Lord. What had she done? She couldn’t recall anything more.

  God, she’d only ever blacked out once in her life in college. That was fourteen years ago. What the hell was wrong with her?

  She heard the front door of the condo rattle open and swing shut. Mark? Was that Mark? Frantically she glanced around the room for her clothes. Where were they? And, more important, did Mark...take them off?

  She heard a soft knock on the bedroom door. “Hello?” Mark called.

  “Uh...yes?” Laura scrambled to pull the covers up to her chin. Granted, she was wearing a sturdy pair of cotton boy shorts and matching bra with more coverage than most bikinis, but still, she felt vulnerable and exposed.

  “Morning, Drinking Beauty,” Mark teased. “I’ve got your clothes here. All laundered.” He backed into the room, not looking at the bed. Did he keep his head turned because he was being a gentleman?

  He dropped them on the edge of the bed.

  “Why did you wash my clothes?” she asked, stunned.

  “You don’t remember?” he asked, back still turned.

  “Remember what?”

  Mark chuckled low. “Get dressed and come get coffee. Have I got a story to tell you.” He shut the bedroom door behind him, and Laura scrambled to get her clothes. What had she done? Had he...? Had they...? Did they have sex? Why couldn’t she remember?