Chapter 2
Even after going through the boarding process, wending his way along corridors that all looked the same to find his cabin, and taking his sweet time unpacking and arranging his toiletries in the bathroom, Mark still had most of the afternoon stretching out ahead of him.
Much to his annoyance, Felicia had been right about his ability to remain cooped up in the cabin.
He had plenty of room to move around, but the porthole windows weren’t enough to keep him from feeling claustrophobic.
He flipped through a guidebook the cruise line had provided to check out his options.
One of the bars? No. Getting buzzed sounded good, but the bars would be the first place anyone looking for a hook-up would go, and Mark wasn’t looking to hook up.
Ten years ago? Yeah, twenty-five-year-old Mark would have thrown on tight pants and a mesh shirt and sauntered to the nearest bar with condoms in his pocket.
But he wasn’t looking for casual sex, not when he still missed what he and Ryan had shared: the comfort and familiarity of a long-term partner.
His job kept him too busy to focus on developing that kind of relationship, so he didn't see the point in looking at all.
Other day one activities included a talk for first time cruise-goers, a talk about shopping at the ports of call, neck massage samples at the spa, and so on.
The biggest event was a Sail Away Party at the main pool, which…
no. Just no. But there was another pool at the back of the ship, and Mark guessed it would be quieter and less populated because of the party and all the other activities.
He could relax in peace with a good book without a lot of other people around who might want to talk to him.
When he reached the rear pool, he was pleased to see it was indeed sparsely populated. He had plenty of loungers to choose from, and while there were some other people around, they appeared to be couples who’d probably chosen this area for the peace and quiet like he had.
A lifeguard was on duty, standing at one end of the pool with a long red floatation device, his position giving him a good view of the area.
Mark’s first thought was, “Oh no, he’s hot.
” Light brown hair curled out from beneath a cap, and while sunglasses shielded the lifeguard’s eyes, Mark could tell he had the kind of clean-cut looks that were Mark’s downfall.
And of course, the lifeguard had a Pride flag tattoo on his right bicep, clearly visible thanks to the sleeveless shirt he wore, so Mark couldn’t convince himself the lifeguard was a straight staff member.
Alarm klaxons whooped in his head, and he veered off toward the lounge chairs farthest away from the lifeguard’s end of the pool.
He found a seat at the other end that was shaded by the overhanging roof covering the bar and counter stacked high with fresh towels.
After placing his towel on the back and adjusting the lounger to a comfortable angle, he settled down with his book, raising it high enough to block the lifeguard from view.
If he couldn’t see the temptation, it didn’t exist.
The music from the other pool, located on the same deck but on the other side of the enclosed buffet, was still loud enough to be heard, even over the noises of vehicles and equipment rising from the dock below the port side of the ship.
No one seemed inclined to go into the pool, though there were two women in the hot tub, laughing together as they clinked their glasses of champagne.
“Can I offer you anything to drink?”
The voice came from beside him, and Mark glanced up to see a smiling young woman in the ship’s uniform.
Mark thought perhaps a cocktail might be the perfect finishing touch for his first day scenario, and while he couldn’t remember the drink menu in full, he felt safe in ordering one of the more standard cocktails.
“A pina colada, please,” he said.
“Of course, sir.” She smiled again before heading back to the bar. The bartender made quick work of the order, and the server carried the drink over on a small round tray.
Unfortunately, right before she reached him, a man in the row of loungers behind Mark stood up, apparently without noticing the server.
He bumped into her, sending her tray, along with the glass holding Mark’s drink, flying straight at him.
It was a good thing Mark had been looking, because he was able to duck.
Though the cold drink splashed over him, the glass missed his head, landing on the edge of the pool deck and shattering on impact.
“Oh shit!” Mark tossed his book on the nearby table without bothering to mark his place. “Are you okay?”
The server looked chagrined, and the man who bumped her, an older guy with graying hair, looked horrified.
“I’m so sorry!” he said, wincing as he took in the icy drink dripping down Mark’s chest.
“Things happen,” a voice said in a soothing tone, and Mark blinked, surprised that the lifeguard had materialized on his other side. The young man pushed up his sunglasses and gave Mark a concerned once-over. “Sir, were you hit by the glass? Do you need medical attention?”
The lifeguard’s eyes were brown. Deep, rich chocolate brown.
“Uh. No, I’m okay. Just wet.” Mark distracted himself from the lifeguard’s eyes by worming the beach towel from under himself so he could wipe off the remnants of the pina colada.
The lifeguard hesitated before nodding. “All right, if you’re sure. We’ll have to clean up this area, but if you would like to move to another seat, I can get you a fresh towel.”
The crew appeared to be accustomed to such mishaps, since the bartender had already come out with a “caution” sign, and another crew member hurried over with a broom and dustpan.
The older man who had caused the spill offered an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry. Can I replace your t-shirt? The shops won’t open until we leave port, but I’m more than happy to buy you a new one.” There was no mistaking the gleam of interest in the man’s gray eyes.
“No, that’s unnecessary,” Mark said, with a vehement shake of his head. The last thing he needed was to catch the attention of another older man, given how well that had worked out for him with Ryan. “I’m sure it’ll wash out.”
He grabbed his book and stood up, glancing around for a new spot. He wanted to give the scene of the accident a wide berth, so he picked a new lounge chair a good six feet away from the current one.
“I’ll be over there,” he said, pointing to his new spot.
The older guy, seeming to recognize the brush-off for what it was, picked up his own book and headed toward the doors to the buffet. That was a relief, since it meant Mark would be spared from both repeated apologies and awkward small talk.
“A good choice,” the lifeguard said before hurrying to the towel area. The server went back toward the bar, while the bartender put down his sign and turned to Mark.
“If you want to give me your shirt, I can give it a quick rinse in the sink to get the stickiness out. It should dry fast in the sun.”
“Um.” Mark didn’t particularly want to run around bare-chested, not because he was insecure, but because he didn’t want an audience.
He’d wanted to spend his vacation blending into the background and not being perceived, but circumstances were conspiring to shine a spotlight on him.
But he also didn’t want to deal with a sticky shirt, so he nodded and stripped it off. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”
“Of course, sir. Give me a few minutes, and you’ll have both your shirt and a new pina colada.”
As the bartender left, the lifeguard returned. He had not only a fresh towel but also a damp washcloth. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I brought you a warm cloth to wipe off the drink. Sticky isn’t pleasant. At least not in this situation.”
Mark’s brain chose violence and flooded him with memories of times when he’d been delighted to be sticky, and his face grew hot. He avoided making eye contact as he accepted the washcloth.
“Thanks, that was thoughtful of you,” he mumbled as he wiped himself off.
“All part of the service!” As Mark finished, the lifeguard offered him the clean towel and held out his hand for the washcloth. “Is there anything else I can do for you? I’m sorry for the way the cruise is starting out for you. But hopefully it will all be up from here!”
Mark traded him the cloth for the towel and edged towards the lounge chair to put some space between himself and the lifeguard with the pretty eyes and buff arms. “No, I’m good, thanks. Accidents happen.”
“All right.” The lifeguard smiled and took a couple of steps back, as though he sensed Mark’s need for distance.
He picked up his red flotation device from a nearby chair, and then he headed back to the other end of the pool.
Mark wasn’t sure, but it looked like he might have been putting more sway in his walk than was necessary.
Mark watched the lifeguard go longer than he should have before he finally tore his gaze away and retreated to his lounge chair.
He got himself settled with the fresh towel and hid behind his book again, but vampires running amok on board a booze cruise couldn’t quite hold his attention anymore, and he had to make himself stay focused on the words instead of peeking over the cover at Mr. Sexy Pride Bicep Tattoo.
Felicia was going to be in such deep shit when he got home.