Tidal Patterns (Golden Shores Book 1) (20 page)

“I know you wouldn’t; it’s okay. I’m going to get her home,” Mark said. “I’ll pick up her tab too just add it to mine.”

Lizzie turned back to him and he to her. He smirked.

“I think they’re closing up, let me get you home,” Mark said.

Lizzie offered a lazy smile, drained the rest of her pint, and hopped off the barstool. With half closed eyes, she turned to smile at him and swayed into him. He caught her around the waist and righted her.

“Ready,” she announced, her hot breath soaked with alcohol. 

Raising an eyebrow, she broke free from his grasp, stumbled a few steps forward and then swayed. Like watching a person in slow motion, Mark had plenty of time to step forward and catch her before she hit the ground. Mark pulled her tight against his body and held her for longer than necessary. She made no move to step away, just like the dance, she trusted him to lead her. Mark cleared his throat and took a step forward, letting go of her.

“I’m parked over here,” he said.

Smiling, she followed him out the back door. He helped her into the car and buckled her in. Her delicate perfume of cotton and soap clung to her neck and he breathed in deep, intoxicated. Mark stopped himself, walked around the car, and then jumped in himself.

“What did you mean you’re packing up your house?” Mark asked as he drove slowly down the alley and turned onto Mallery Street.

“It was my parents. They were killed in a car accident right before the holidaysss,” Lizzie slurred.

Mark pulled to a stop at the light and turned to her. She looked straight ahead, through the windshield, not acknowledging him.

“I’m so sorry Lizzie. I had no idea,” Mark whispered.

She shrugged but didn’t turn to look at him or to otherwise indicate that she’d heard him. He cleared his throat unsure of how to proceed. He wanted to hear more but didn’t want to make her discuss something painful. The light turned green and he pulled through the intersection, driving slow enough that he could watch her from the corner of his eye without getting into an accident.

“You live in their house?” he asked.

“They moved here when I was in college. It’s their house. I’m just living in it. And I love it. But now, I can’t stay. Thanks a lot for that,” Lizzie replied.

Mark nodded, not sure what to say next. He had no experience equal to hers. He’d never been close with his family and leaving them hadn’t been very painful at all. He could only assume, seeing how close she was with her brother and hearing her speak about him before, that she had been close with her parents as well. What must that be like?

“I thought I’d buy it from him after the estate. But I can’t. We packed up what we could, we have to sell most of their belongings, and we’re going to paint,” she said.

“If you need help, I can come paint,” Mark offered, scrambling for something to say.
Why did she say she can’t stay thanks to me? What did I have to do with this?
  He cleared his throat. ”I think your brother might be a little preoccupied.”

He watched her demeanor change in his peripheral vision. She sat up straighter, smoothed down her hair, and turned towards him.

“I probably shouldn’t be saying thisss,” she slurred and then stopped.

Then don’t,
he wanted to tell her. But he didn’t. He wanted to hear what she had to say.

She leaned towards him and put a hand up over her mouth, like she intended to whisper to him. Her damp lips pressed against his ear tickled and made him jump.

“I like you,” she said after a moment in her normal voice.

Was this happening? He pulled back and sat up straighter, fighting the urge to dry his ear on the shoulder of his shirt. He hadn’t thought of how he’d handle this scenario because he hadn’t ever imagined she’d confess something like that.

Mark cleared his throat. “I like you too.”

Lizzie sighed, turned to look out the windshield again and crossed her legs away from him. “No you don’t,” she muttered.

“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?” he asked. He decided to play dumb, to stall for more time as he figured out his next move. She’d forced his hand and he couldn’t think of a worse moment.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t like you like a friend. I like like you.”

“I like like you too,” he replied, biting his lip out of frustration or to keep from laughing, he couldn’t be sure which.

“No you don’t,” she said, shaking her head even more emphatically.

Mark opened his mouth to retort again and then quickly shut his lips. He frowned. Was he having an argument with a drunk woman?

“You were getting married six months ago, right?” she asked, prodding him.

“No, I thought I was going to propose, but…” Mark replied, letting his thoughts trail off.

“Right. Ssssoo you can’t jump from marrying one girl to liking another girl that quick,” she said, keeping her face forward. “At least, I hope you can’t.”

“I think I knew for a long time that it wasn’t working out,” he said and then stopped himself.

Was he going to pour his heart out to her again? Why not? He’d be shocked if she remembered anything about tonight. And he needed to say the words out loud.

“Why did you propossssse?”

“It was time for all or nothing,” Mark replied and shrugged. “But I’m glad she chose nothing. I’m glad. Or I wouldn’t have met you.”

“Oooohhh, you like like me,” she teased.

I don’t like this
.
How will I get her up to bed and keep my hands to myself? What if she wants me to stay? And worse, what if she doesn’t?
For all her bravado, could Mark believe her words? Did she really have feelings for him?

“Lizzie, how much have you had to drink tonight?” Mark asked.

“Hmm. Not sure. Enough,” she replied waving her hands in the air.

“I don’t think you should stay by yourself tonight. I’m taking you to my house. I’ll sleep on the couch and you can have the bed.”

“Soundsss good,” she slurred and winked.

Mark frowned, but didn’t react. Was she trying to make an innuendo?

Parking his car in front of the gate, he hopped out of the car, and came around to offer her help. Without any assistance, Lizzie unbuckled herself and hopped down to the ground. She stood up, took one step forward, and swayed to the left, into Mark. He put his arm around her waist to steady her. She turned in his arms, pressing against him, and draped her arms around his neck.

Forcing his mind to be still, to concentrate on the sound of the waves crashing against the shore only a few blocks away. Mark willed himself not to react. She offered him a lazy smile and then stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed him. He didn’t move a muscle, he refused to let his hands caress her or press into her soft flesh. He didn’t let his arms tighten around her or even let himself kiss her back. Her tongue flickered against his lips but he didn’t open them.

He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to caress her and make her his. But that was the crux. He wanted her to be his before he let anything happen. Was she too drunk to know what she was doing? Would she regret her actions in the morning? He didn’t want any hesitancy or hard feelings. When he kissed her, he’d make her ache and beg and moan. He’d show her that she was meant to be treasured and adored. If something happened between them, he knew their relationship would be forever.

But he would never do anything with someone not in fully capacity of their faculties. And he would never take advantage of her. Finally, Lizzie stepped back, out of his arms and away from him. She frowned at him and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Come on, I’ll get you settled in my room and I’ll sleep downstairs on the couch,” he said, reaching out a hand to her.

She looked down at his hand and then back up to his face.

“No, to answer your question, you are not someone I want to have a fling with,” he told her, fighting to keep his composure and to stop himself from continuing that train of thought.

She was drunk, he reminded himself, and probably wouldn’t remember anything in the morning. But he still didn’t want to bear his soul to her. He didn’t want to try to explain that she was different, that over the past two months she’d come to mean a lot to him. He couldn’t put into words how seeing her made him feel easier. He hated that he felt like he’d finally met his other half and yet the circumstances of their meeting completely sucked.

How can I trust my feelings when I thought I’d spend forever with Cynthia?
Sure, he hadn’t felt anything like this with Cynthia, he didn’t long to hear her laugh or walk next to her like he did with Lizzie. But he hadn’t known that when he’d been prepared to make a serious commitment. He didn’t know if he should trust his instincts anymore.

And of course the job came between them. He would have been sunk without her and he saw now why she’d been so shocked to be passed over for it. It should be her job. He couldn’t stay and continue to take away from her when so much already had. He’d never had a family of his own which was probably why he’d been so late to try to start one with Cynthia. But he couldn’t help but marvel at the strength of Lizzie’s family, however unconventional. She and her brother seemed so close and when he’d first met them on the beach, he’d assumed that Rose had been her grandmother. There was something special about her that drew other people to her, not just him.

Lizzie didn’t take his hand. She turned away, giving him her back. Mark walked in front of her and led her to the door. Scooter burst out the minute Mark pulled it open and toppled her over backwards.

“SCOOTER STOP,” Mark shouted in his sternest voice.

But the pair ignored him. He heard her laughs and was hit in the leg by the happy wagging tail. Mark offered her a hand but she ignored him and got up without his help.

“Come on,” Mark said gruffly, to both of them. “Scooter in.”

The dog responded and went inside, his tail still wagging but lowered. Mark stood inside, holding the door open, waiting for her to pass by him. She eyed him warily but walked inside all the same. Was she mad that he hadn’t made a pass at her? That he hadn’t taken advantage of her?

Mark closed the door behind her once she’d finally stepped over the threshold. Lizzie yawned, her entire body slumping as she did. Mark wanted to help her, to carry her upstairs. But he didn’t need the temptation of the act or to incite desires in her. He refused to let this scenario be the start of something between them.

“Follow me,” he said and again turned his back on her.

Walking through the living room to the stairs in the kitchen, Scooter pushed past him when his foot hit the first tread. Scooter had to be the first up the stairs, it was almost a source of pride for the dog. Lizzie’s heavy tread behind him caught him by surprise. He’d have imagined her to have a lighter step, but the distinctive clomp clomp clomp of her gait made him smile. She must be a natural at tap, he decided.

Turning on the upstairs hall light, he led her to his room, picking up the spare dirty socks and yesterday’s running clothes that he left lying around as he walked. Living by himself with only Scooter for company, he’d fallen into some bad habits about his housekeeping. He turned on the overhead light and assessed the room before Lizzie reached the door. His initial assessment didn’t reveal anything gross or embarrassing, satisfied, he turned to her.

“So if you want—“ Mark began but he was quickly interrupted.

Pushing past him, Lizzie sank onto the mattress, fully clothed and lying on top of the duvet face down. Scooter hopped up onto the bed next to her, sniffed her face and satisfied, kissed her on the cheek before settling in next to her.

“Alright so—“ her snores interrupted his next attempt at hospitality.

“Well that’s about right then,” he continued.

She didn’t look comfortable with her face smashed into the bedding. But he didn’t know how much comfort he could offer her. He pulled off her shoes and set them on the ground next to the bed and then backed out of the room, turning off the light as he went. He was half-way downstairs when an idea struck him and he raced back up to turn on the bathroom light and leave the door ajar. 

Mark walked slowly downstairs, straining to hear anything from his bedroom as he went. He settled himself onto the couch, pulled a blanket over his legs, and laid down. He doubted he’d get much sleep. With Lizzie upstairs, he’d have too much on his mind. But he closed his eyes anyways and fell sound asleep.

Lizzie’s right foot tingled. She stretched and wiggled her toes, trying to understand the sensation. Circling her ankles relieved the heaviness, but the moment she stopped, the feeling returned. She couldn’t shake the wet tickle. She rolled from her back onto her side and struggled to open her eyes. Why was the light so bright this morning? She rubbed her eyelids and blinked several times, but seemed unable to focus on anything in particular.

Pushing herself up to her elbow, she shook her legs and realized the weird sensation was a dog, kissing her feet. That was funny, because the dog looked exactly like Mark’s dog. But why would she be in bed with Mark’s dog.

Her eyes burst open and darted about the room. She was not in her bed or her house. She pulled her knees up to her chin and then, on second thought, began patting herself down to make sure she’d retained all of her undergarments.

Faint chords drifted up through the open bedroom door. Lizzie strained to make out the melody.
Is that Keane? On the piano?
Curiosity spurred her to roll off the bed and head down the stairs. Scooter pushed past her, unfazed by her presence and the music. Lizzie followed, the music growing louder with each step. She followed the sounds through a kitchen to a living room. Mark sat at an upright piano with his back towards her, playing one of her favorite songs.

Lizzie hesitated to move closer. His playing was emotional if not flawless and he sang in hushed tones, like he was unsure of his voice. She looked about the room, taking a moment to consider his home. The rooms were decorated lovingly, if sparsely. Only a few pictures hung on the wall over the well-worn, overstuffed sofa. She couldn’t quite make out the subject matter in the black and white photographs. They seemed to be some sort of abstract picture like she’d seen at stores at the mall. But the pictures seemed to be originals, not mass marketed. She stepped further into the room to look for herself and a floorboard creaked under her foot. Lizzie paused, one foot still raised and the other flat on the ground, her lips pressed together, like she’d been caught doing something naughty.

Mark dropped his hands and turned. He didn’t move to approach her, he crossed one leg over the other and leaned back against the keys. He didn’t smile either but he also didn’t scowl or frown or clear her throat. She could feel her flush starting to stain her cheeks because he seemed clear headed and entirely at ease. She alone had no idea what had happened last night.

Biting her lip, she didn’t know what to say first. She flinched under his direct gaze and turned to towards the photographs.

“These are nice,” she said, motioning to the gallery wall. “Did you buy them?”

“No, actually, I took them,” he replied.

“Really?” she asked, her mouth gaping.

“Yeah, I like taking pictures,” Mark answered. He got up from the chair and clasped his hands behind his back. Mark walked over to her. He stopped a few feet away and looked over the pictures. Some crazy part of her that sounded a lot like Rose willed her to move closer.
Go ahead and kiss him, who knows what you got up to last night!

“I’m not very good,” he continued. “But I like taking pictures. Those are close-ups of some shells I found on Jekyll.”

“Wow, very cool,” Lizzie replied.
Very cool?
Was that the best she could come up with? Her tongue swelled, thick and wooden in her mouth.

Mark nodded but made no other move.

“Umm…so…Thank you for letting me stay here last night?” she asked.

“Is that a question?” Mark asked.

“Yeah, it kind of is. I’m a little foggy about what happened.” She stumbled as she shifted her weight from foot to foot and nearly tripped in the middle of the room.

Mark raised an eyebrow and she stopped moving.

“Where’s my brother?” Lizzie asked, slowly testing out the words.

“He had to go home. His wife went into labor. I suppose you’re an aunt by now.”

“OH. Geez, I hope he made it.”

Mark nodded.

“We didn’t… You know…” Lizzie said, looking from his face to a point behind his head, unable to hold his gaze for longer than a few seconds without squirming.

Mark shrugged.

“Oh God…did we?” Lizzie put a hand up to her face to cover both her eyes.

She had a vague recollection of kissing Mark. The moment had come to her before, when she’d felt Scooter’s kisses on her feet. She hadn’t thought kissing Mark could be a memory. She’d assumed she’d had a very realistic dream. But his shrug suggested otherwise. Lizzie nearly shivered, remembering how tiny she’d felt in his arms.

Had she thrown herself at him? Her mortification grew with each passing second. Yes she had been feeling rather reckless and adrift lately, but had she actually done something reckless? She forced her mind to go back, to remember the night before, but she kept drawing up a blank. She saw herself riding in his car and could remember pressing herself against him to kiss him. But that was it. She blanked out on the rest of the night.

Her stomach lurched and Lizzie sank onto the couch and put her head between her knees. She was going to be sick. What had she done? She hadn’t had a drink in months, probably closer to a year. She hadn’t been out with Patrick or Rose or anyone. The last time she’d gone out had probably been a couple years before in college and even then she’d never had much of a tolerance. A couple of drinks and she was toast. But had she drunk enough the night before to throw herself at Mark and sleep with him and couldn’t remember anything that happened?

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod,” Lizzie whispered over and over again.

His heels clicked with every step against the hardwood floor as Mark walked across the room. She felt the weight of the couch shift as he sat down next to her and felt his arms lightly embrace her around her shoulders. But she couldn’t stop herself from dry heaving.

“We didn’t sleep together, for God’s sake,” Mark bit out. “But I’m glad to know the idea is so disgusting to you.”

Mark got up and paced the room, dragging a hand through his hair.

Lizzie looked up and breathed heavily, trying to calm her nerves.

“We didn’t?” she asked.

“No, but not for your lack of trying,” he ranted. “Although I guess you’re relieved to know that nothing happened.”

Her mouth gaped open. Lizzie had no idea how to respond. Yes, she was glad nothing had happened. She wasn’t the kind of girl who could just sleep with someone and walk away like it had no consequences. She wasn’t the kind of girl who could pretend not to have feelings for someone when she did.

But apparently she had had enough liquid courage to try to start something and that alone was mortifying. She felt a connection with Mark, almost like a shared history even though she knew so little of him. She never wanted to waste that connection with some cheap and tawdry fling. And yet the night before she’d tried.

Standing up, she pulled back her shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “I’d like to go home now. Do you think you could take me?”

He held her gaze for a moment and then turned away from her.

“I’ll be outside,” Mark muttered under his breath.

Nodding, she watched him leave and jumped when the door slammed shut in its frame. He seemed so sad and dejected. Had she somehow made the situation even worse? She needed to go. She needed her shoes and she needed her purse. She had to get home. Lizzie retraced her steps back up to his bedroom and got down on her hands and knees. She found her shoes on the floor and her purse not too far away. She pulled out her phone and had enough battery left to listen to the message she’d gotten only a few hours before.

“Hey Frizz,” a tired Patrick greeted her, “I’m sorry I bolted. But I’m here, I got here just in time, I made the last flight home. And your new niece just got here. Seven pounds ten ounces nineteen inches. We’re going to name her after mom. Oh Frizz, I can’t wait for you to meet her. Also, give me a call when you get this so I know you got home safe. I liked that guy Mark. He seems like a good guy. But still, call me when you get this.”

Lizzie smiled and texted him back.
Phone dying, got your message, I’m fine, love to all
.

* * * * *

He lost his grip on the door and let it slam shut behind him as he walked outside. Mark growled. He hadn’t intended to do that, but maybe the unintentional slip was okay, he decided. It fit his mood. He hadn’t sleep at all on his couch. He’d thought of Scooter as an interference on the bed. But now he realized he couldn’t sleep without him. Scooter had stayed upstairs, of course. Leaving Mark cold and alone on the couch.

Turning away from the door, Mark stomped across the yard to his car. Pacing his porch wasn’t an option he wanted to consider. If he had to wait, he’d wait in his car. He turned the key in the ignition and turned on the radio. Mark twisted the knob, blasting the music, to help drown out his thoughts. When a couple with a small dog walked bye and shot him dirty looks, Mark reconsidered. He turned off the radio entirely and sat in the silence. He didn’t want to make himself conspicuous on his street or give off any ideas; like he’d had a one-night stand.

With a heavy sigh, he put his hand on his steering wheel. He held the palm of his hand up, bracing it before he intended to honk. What was taking her so long? It wasn’t like she had lost any clothing the night before. Movement in his peripheral vision stilled his hand. She had emerged.

For someone who’d been pretty sloppy the night before, she looked remarkably pulled together. She didn’t carry her heels and walk out barefoot or have big black smudges under her eyes. She walked confidently in her heels and beamed at him when she approached the car. Her face seemed make-up free and yet she didn’t hide. She held her head high. Her wrinkled shirt was the only indication that something was amiss with her.

“Where do you live?” he asked, his tone gruff.

The north end of the island
. The memory floated back to him. Why did he remember details about her? He scowled, then cleared his throat and blinked, trying to erase the disapproval from his face. But he did disapprove. He hated his response to her this morning and yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself from getting angry with her.

I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this
.

“North end of the island, by Canon’s Point.”

Mark quirked an eyebrow. “You live on the north end? All the way up there? I’d have thought you for a beach girl.”

Lizzie shrugged but didn’t reply. He turned to look at her and she shrank away from him. Then he remembered. Her parents. She’d taken over their house. She probably was a beach girl. He could easily picture her riding a bike around East Beach and the Pier Village in a bathing suit and a cover-up. Living an easy-going, sun-filled life of beachcombing.
She deserves some easiness.

“Okay, Canon’s Point it is,” he agreed.

He drove through East Beach and past the Bloody Marsh. He’d often marveled that this land had been habitable, let alone desirable, hundreds of years ago. He might try to force himself to drive without his air conditioner, but that was the extent of his ability. In the summer heat, the sun and humidity conspired to drain him, he couldn’t imagine it before modern conveniences. But it had been worth fighting over. What was worth fighting to him?

“So,” Mark cleared his throat. “How did you brother get on last night?”

“He made it. Another daughter,” Lizzie replied a bit louder to be heard over the ambient noise in the Jeep without doors.

“Another daughter?”

“Yep, he and his wife have two kids.”

“Wow,” Mark said. His eyes grew wide. He figured he was a couple years older than her brother and he already had it all.

“It’s not that exciting. College sweethearts, been together forever, got married a few years ago and started having kids. Pretty standard.”

“But not for you?” Mark asked.

Lizzie tensed. He watched her shoulders hunch forward.

“Not for you either, right?” she asked.

“E tu,” he agreed.

“Were you guys in college together?”

“Cynthia you mean?” Mark asked.

Lizzie nodded.

“I met her in our college town. But I’d dropped out by then.”

“You dropped out of college? Why?”

“I had to support myself, I couldn’t see how it was worth it.”

Lizzie nodded but didn’t look convinced.

“I never had family to count on,” Mark told her.

She turned her head away. “My brother wants me to go back to school.”

“You didn’t finish?”

“No, I did. I have a bachelor’s, I got it in three years actually. But I couldn’t get a job in my field. That’s kind of how I ended up here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had an internship at a museum and it was paying nothing. My parents were essentially paying for me to volunteer to get experience on my resume. If you’d ever met my dad… Let’s just say he pulled himself up by his bootstraps. He hadn’t worked to give my brother and me every advantage, to watch us not reach our potential. And after a year, both my parents had had enough.”