Tidal Patterns (Golden Shores Book 1) (8 page)

Screw him. She dialed Rose’s number.

“Lizzie! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Rose asked.

“Rose, I’m starting to freak out about this job. Why hasn’t it been filled yet? Why haven’t I heard anything? Do you think it’s too late to send a thank you note?”

“It didn’t sound like there was much to be thankful for.”

“True,” she sighed. “But at least then I might spur Mr. Cade to tell me what’s going on!”

“And maybe you could run into Mark again.”

I wish I could. I need to apologize to him. I’d love to go over to the hotel and knock on his office door. But I can’t risk running into Frank Cade or his secretary.

“I don’t know, I was pretty short with him,” Lizzie muttered

Closing her eyes, she could almost breathe in the wood and citrus smell of him mingled with the salt of the ocean. Her waist burned where he’d held her, like she stayed in the hot sun too long.

“Lizzie, I’ve been around for a lot of years,” Rose began.

She pressed her lips together. Rose would sooner show her roots than hint at her age. Indicating her decades of experience meant serious business.

“And in all those years, I’ve never known a man to go out of his way to talk to a woman or even start an argument with her if she was just a colleague. He likes you. It’s obvious. So do him and yourself a favor and go over and ask him out.”

The door burst open and slammed against the wall. She jumped out of her chair and her phone flew out of her hand, skittering across the floor. A man stood in the open doorway holding a box, the bright sunlight obscuring his face. She froze behind the desk in terror. Who on earth would be barging into her office? And why? The man took a few steps into the room, crouched to place the box next to the door, and retrieved her cell phone off the ground. When he stood up to his full height and walked in closer, she recognized him but her confusion remained.

“Mark?” she frowned.

Her heart beat reverberated in her ears, drowning out any other noises.
Here’s your chance to apologize. Say something.
Her mouth gaped open but no words came out.

He approached her desk and finally she shut her mouth and reached out a hand to grab her phone. Handing her the phone, he held her hand in his for a few seconds. She swallowed and shivered as the warmth spread from her hand to her toes. When she made no move to step back, he cleared his throat and smiled.

“Is this the free desk?” he asked, tilting his head to the desk next to hers.

Dropping his hand, she shook her head
yes
but didn’t speak. The phone vibrated in her hand and she glanced down. Rose was calling back. She hung up on her and then quickly texted.

I’m ok. Will call later
.

She glanced up to watch Mark walk back to the door, shut it, retrieve his box, and carry it over to the desk. What was going on here? Why on earth did he seem to be carrying all of his belongings around? Why was he asking about a free desk? She watched him unpack. That desk didn’t even have a computer anymore.

“Mark, what’s going on?” She finally asked him. “Are you an event planner now?”

“In a way, I’m the Manager of Special Events,” he replied.

The blood drained out her from her head to her toes. If she hadn’t locked her knees, she’d have fallen over.

“WHAT?” she shouted.

Color rushed back into her face, she blushed and put her hands up over her mouth. He turned to her and her stomach dropped.
He was the Manager? How? Why?
Did he shoot her a rueful, pitying look? His eyes looked sad but his body stood as straight and true as a board.

He just crushed my plans under his foot and it didn’t impact him at all.

“I’m sorry, you know. I have to go. Make yourself at… I have something to…” she didn’t even finish the thought let alone the sentence.

Bending down to grab her purse from under her desk, she took in a deep breath.
What am I doing? Calm down.
She straightened. Where had she put that stupid phone? She couldn’t leave without it. She had to call Rose. It was an emergency. She turned in a circle, frantically looking about the room for her phone, her eyes darting into each and every corner. She put a hand up to smooth a strand of her hair behind her ear and realized she had it in that hand. If it was possible, she blushed even further.

“I’ve got to go. I’ve got to go,” she muttered, rounding her desk and racing across the room and out the door.

She needed to get far, far away from him. She closed the door behind her, took off her heels, and sprinted across the lawn towards her car. She didn’t care who might see her or what they might think. She made it to her car, dialed Rose, and put her on speakerphone as she turned on the ignition and peeled out of the parking lot.

“What happened?” Rose asked.

“Mark. Mark happened.”

“The guy from the beach? I don’t understand.”

“Yeah,” Lizzie sniggered. “I don’t either. He burst into my office and that’s when I threw you across the room. Sorry about that.”

“Oh, I was wondering what it was. I was worried you’d had a fall or something.”

I wish
.

“Nope, just had my future stolen out from under me, but it’s not a big deal,” she replied and cackled.

“What do you mean?”

“Mark got the job. And he’s moving into my office. Right now, as we speak he’s settling in at the desk next to mine.”

“Oh I’m sorry Lizzie.”

She sighed. She was sorry too. Now she’d have to explain it all to Patrick and tell him she’d failed. Letting him down had never been an option. But she’d lost his inheritance just as she’d lost her own.

“Me too,” she whispered back to Rose, afraid to speak any louder.

“Where are you now?”

“On the Lanier Bridge I headed home. I couldn’t stay.”

“Can I do anything for you?”

“Do you want to meet up with me for Mexican food and Margaritas?”

“That I can do! Nacho’s?”

“I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”

She hung up the phone and tried to process what this meant. Mark, with no real experience, had gotten the job. Was he her boss now? What did his new job mean for her? She wouldn’t find out by driving away from him but she needed to compose herself and that couldn’t happen as she tried to process in front of him. No, she’d made the right decision.

Mark watched the ceiling fan spin overhead as he laid half-under the top sheet on his bed. Next to him, with his head on the pillow, Scooter snored. His eyes burned for lack of sleep. He turned on his side and observed his bedmate. Scooter opened his eyes and licked him right on the nose.

“Eww Scooter! Gross!” He groaned, rolling out of the bed.

He’d joked around with Phil that maybe he’d turn his spare bedroom into a retreat for Scooter. But the idea definitely had its appeal. Not having to share his blankets, not listening to the dog’s loud snores, and not being woken up by kisses all sprang to mind.

Slipping his feet into the slippers he kept next to the bed, he shuffled towards the bedroom door.

“I’m going for a walk, if anyone’s interested.”

On the bed, Scooter had fallen back asleep, his paws moving as he chased a dream squirrel. He sighed. He wished he could. He didn’t know what time it was, but considering he felt like he’d been run over by a truck and no light shone from under the hem on the curtains. He knew it was too early to start his day.

Fumbling in the dark room, he shuffled over to the dresser, grabbed a pair of shorts and muscle tee, and slipped into them.
Why am I sneaking around? This is my house.
But he tiptoed out of the room and down the stairs all the same. The clock in the kitchen read four thirty. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been up that early. Quite a few nights during his younger years, he’d stayed out until four thirty. But that had been different.

The tiny gate on his picket fence squeaked as he pushed it open.
Add it to the list
. He walked through the quiet streets, enjoying the sounds of the waves and the occasional birdsong. Before he knew where he was headed, he through the outskirts of the Pier Village. He couldn’t imagine Phil would be up, with the late hours he kept. But he walked by the bar all the same.

On the bench outside the bar, holding a steaming mug of coffee, with her feet curled up to her chest, sat Trish. She smiled at him as he approached and scooted over on the bench. Patting the empty space next to her, he joined her.

“You’re up early,” he said.

“I can’t resist it. Mornings are the only time I have to myself. How about you?”

“I’d rather be in bed. I couldn’t sleep. I don’t suppose I could sneak back into the apartment to finish Charlie’s room, could I?”

“Would you believe it if I told you he actually finished the final wall himself.”

“Charlie or Phil?” he asked, squinting.

“Ha, Phil.”

Trish paused to drink from her coffee. The nutty smell of the dark roast called to him. He leaned slightly closer.

“Do you want some? I made a full pot.”

“That’d be great. Thanks.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” she replied, excusing herself.

He offered her a half-smile and a nod. He should probably learn how to make coffee. Then maybe he could get a coffee pot for the office. Everyone loved coffee; it had to be a good icebreaker. Lizzie had to appreciate the gesture, even if she didn’t like who had given it.
What am I talking about? Why wouldn’t she like me? She’s been friendly and sweet, maybe a little shocked yesterday, but she’ll come around.

Trish returned and handed him a mug.

“Thanks.”

“I hear congratulations are in order.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

He drank from his mug, grateful to have something to occupy him. His buddy’s wife had always been too observant. She saw more than Phil and understood far more subtleties than he did.
I guess that’s how the compliment each other
he reasoned.

“Mark, it’s okay that you have to change your plan. You can’t control other people, only your reactions to how you’re treated.”

“Don’t you ever wish you could?”

“With Charlie? All the time,” she chuckled. “It’d save me a lot of headaches.”

“How about with Phil?”

“Never. He challenges me. I wasn’t ready to give up the life we had when he approached me with this grand idea of his, opening up the bar and living above it. But…”

“What?” Mark asked, barely above a whisper.

He focused on her. Trish had never opened up to him before. He’d always been more Phil’s friend than hers, but he wanted that to change.
I’m sure all of Phil’s good advice after my break-up was really hers.

“I love him and I trust him and every time he challenges me to change something, it ends up for the better. Staying the same, remaining static, isn’t living. It’s surviving. I like that Phil takes chances, because I never would.”

He nodded. Phil’s fearlessness had drawn in Mark too. Mark liked comfort and stability, maybe that’s why he kept going back to the same relationship even after three break-ups. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to be with someone who challenged him.
Lizzie would be a challenge
.

Together, they sat in silence. Mark drank his coffee, savoring the bitter taste of the dark roast. Warmth trickled down his throat to his fingertips with each sip. Turning towards the pier, he watched the sky awaken. The first streaks of pink slowly gave way to bright blue, reflecting the ocean.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he replied, handing Trish the empty mug. “I’ve got to head back.”

“Anytime Mark,” she said.

Retracing his steps, he kept his head down. He winced remembering Lizzie’s face the day before. She’d looked like someone had walked on her grave. His appearance had been so upsetting, she’d had to race out of the office and hadn’t returned. Maybe he’d done them both a disservice by not telling her that he had applied for the job too. He’d known she had, but he hadn’t said anything.

But I didn’t want to…
Exhaling, he knew he’d be wrong. He’d been selfish. He’d been to concerned with trying to figure out what he felt for her to be concerned for her. Would it have made this transition easier? Without a doubt. But then he probably wouldn’t have had a chance to get to know her socially at all.

“I’m home,” he called out as he opened the front door.

Glancing at the clock in the kitchen the time showed quarter to six. It was too early. He shook his head but the caffeine and the walking wouldn’t let him get any rest now. At the top of the stairs, he tiptoed down the hall to peek in on Scooter. Still the dog slept, the low growl of a particularly good dream punctuated by his rapid paw movements.

He showered, changed, and left food and fresh water for Scooter; grateful for the dog door that gave him access to the yard. If he had to wait on Scooter to get up, he’d be there for at least another hour. He didn’t want to sit around any longer.

It was still only six thirty, too early for Target but the perfect time for Starbucks. Was he really going to buy one of their expensive, top of the line coffee makers as an office-warming gift? He’d never even seen her with a coffee. But of course he knew the answer, he wanted to apologize and start over, somehow, while still keeping distance between them as boss and… He didn’t let himself finish the thought. He drove through East Beach, past the airport, entered the big circle with no problem, and pulled into the parking lot.

Grabbing the first coffee maker he found, he bought it without a second glance, getting the attention of every employee in the store. If that was the craziest thing to happen in their workday, then it seemed like a pretty good day in his opinion.

“It’s all going to work out,” he reminded himself as he parked in the resort’s lot. “Let’s start from here.”

Navigating his way to the office, he fumbled with the box down the tabby path, , more determined and ready to take on the day and the challenges ahead. He found the keys in his back pocket, opened the door, lugged the box just inside and turned on the light.

Of course she hadn’t beaten him in that morning. But it felt odd to enter the empty room without her there. He felt like he was snooping around. He shook off the thought. It was his office now too and he could make himself comfortable, he reminded himself. He left the box next to the door and began to walk in a lazy circle, surveying the four walls surrounding him.

The organization of the place impressed him. An entire wall comprised of neatly arranged binders looked orderly and perfect, with each binder matching up just so to its neighbor. He walked towards the desks. Hers was neat and tidy, with the desktop kept clear of everything save a monitor, a phone, and a cup for pens. He walked around to survey and found a pair of black heels stashed underneath next to a pair of sneakers. He chuckled to himself; he liked her in both pairs. As he had gotten to know her, he thought of her as more of a spunky, sneaker-wearing personality. But he liked the way she’d been assertive and take charge in the heels.

He turned to walk back to his desk. The top remained empty and no computer sat next to it. He sat down at the tiny desk chair and pulled open the drawers. None of his files had been brought over yet either and he definitely needed his chair, or he’d start working on that couch and probably end up spending much of his time asleep. He walked back to Lizzie’s desk, picked up her phone to call maintenance, and stopped.

The door to the cottage swung open. Fresh laundry blew in, he closed his eyes and smiled.
Lizzie.

Against his ear, the phone rang and rang and rang. But he didn’t hear it. He only saw her, wearing a fitted floral dress with a blazer and heels. The dress hugged her curves in an entirely appropriate manner. But his mind drifted back, remembering her pert behind in the tight leggings the night they met.

Clearing his throat to shake lose from recollections, she glanced over at him. He stood holding her phone, standing behind her desk. And yet she seemed unfazed. She didn’t say anything. She closed the door, and then turned and tripped over the giant box he’d left by the light switch.

Dropping the receiver, he ran around the desk and across the room to help her up.

“Are you okay? I shouldn’t have left that there,” Mark said.

He offered a hand to help her up and she took it. Her hand felt delicate and soft in his, but strong too. She was no wimpy girl. She had backbone and if he’d thought to comment on her actions the day before, he reconsidered. Brushing a thumb against the back of her hand had been unintentional. But she reacted, closing her eyes for a moment. She dropped his hand after straightening to her full height and smoothed down her suit jacket.

“What is this?” she asked, kicking the box with the peep-toe of her heels.

“Coffee maker for the office.”

She eyed the box suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

“Looks a little complicated,” she muttered, stepping around the box with a wide berth.

“I can take it back. We don’t need to use it.”

“No, no, it’s a good idea. But I’m more of a Mr. Coffee girl. Maybe we should get one from Target.”

“Sure,” he agreed, nodding his head.

He didn’t seem able to control the movement. He kept nodding for longer than necessary. He was glad she wasn’t screaming or racing from the room, but he didn’t know what to expect out of her. She left him by the door. She walked over to her desk, pulled out her chair, and never spared him another glance. He cleared his throat and she momentarily noticed him. 

“Your stuff isn’t here yet?” she asked, tilting her head to the empty desk as she pulled the keyboard out of her top drawer and set it on the desktop.

“No, not yet. And I guess they aren’t here yet either. I was trying to call when you came in.”

She tilted her head to acknowledge his words, turned her chair away, and began typing. She seemed to forget his presence. He couldn’t forget hers. But without his stuff, he couldn’t really work. He’d brought over a box of papers and pens the day before, but nothing that he actually needed. The box had been symbolic. Probably the most effective thing to do would be to walk back over and carry his computer out himself. Then he’d at least have something to do. He felt the power shift imperceptibly between them, like he was standing on the beach and had suddenly begun to sink into a dune.

“You’re here early,” he commented.

She glanced over and smirked. It wasn’t a friendly smile. Her eyes didn’t sparkle and only half of her mouth lifted in the gesture. Was she placating him?

“I have a busy day,” she said.

“What are you hours like?”

“Depends on the week. Next week I have three weddings and three rehearsals and two walk-throughs so I’ll pretty much be living here. But this week I only have a rehearsal dinner tonight and a wedding tomorrow. It’s a light week.”

“I’ll need your help with the events.”

He watched her cross her arms over her chest and knew he’d have to tread carefully, but he needed to be up front with her. He cleared his throat.

“Not with day to day things, but I will need your help working events.”

“You need me to show up for the actual event and work it?”

“Yes, and I’ll need you to help oversee set up and tear down.”

“And what will you be doing?” she asked.

He watched her bite her lip. She’d misspoken and she knew it. The power had once again shifted.