once more. Miserable and fidgety, Tori ran her hand over the whitewashed wall enclosing a lush courtyard behind another restaurant. A fountain sparkled and tinkled among the greenery. Part of the plaster had chipped away to reveal blocks of building material full of layers of tiny seashells.
“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Tori said, the contrast of rough and smooth tingling across her fingertips.
Mark glanced at the wall. “It’s coquina. A kind of limestone with layers of shells in it. The stuff’s practically indestructible. The Spanish built the fort out of it, and when the British fired on it, the walls just absorbed the cannonballs. There’s a reason that fort never fell.”
“How do you know that?”
He shrugged and glanced down the alley beside them. “I grew up down here. Find me a kid from this area that doesn’t know that.”
Another layer. She couldn’t resist peeling them away. “This is your hometown?”
“Preston. Small town just north.”
She looked at him quickly, but he continued staring down the alley. “The place with the antique mall.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed a hand over his nape.
Across the street, bubbles and New Age music wafted from the two-story building. Tori let one of the sparkling spheres land on her fingers. The rounded surface glinted a moment and disappeared with a pop, leaving a kiss of moisture on her skin. “You know, if you have family to visit, you don’t have to babysit me.”
He shrugged. “No family left.”
Her spirits dived because he didn’t deny the babysitting charge. Surely he didn’t still see her as Tick’s little sister, not after that afternoon. She eyed him. They’d stopped at a T-shirt shop and he was studying the humorous shirts displayed on a rack outside. A lonely air of aloofness surrounded him, drawing her closer.
“None at all?” she asked, keeping her voice quiet in the still evening air.
Shaking his head, he held up a Jimmy Buffet shirt and squinted at the parrot and bottle of rum on the front. “Nope. None.”
No family. She couldn’t get her mind around it. Her father was a hazy memory, but her mother centered her life. And even though she rarely saw her sister, she couldn’t imagine not being surrounded by her brothers, even when Tick drove her crazy. She shook her hair back, her chest tight. “I’m sorry.”
He glanced at her, a smile quirking at his mouth. The T-shirt went back on the rack. “Don’t be. I’ve been on my own for a long time.”
She glanced at him from beneath her lashes and lifted a shirt from the medium section. A big red lipstick mouth on the front accented a slogan about having a love affair with Florida. “How long?”
“Almost twenty years. My dad died my senior year of high school, my mom a couple years later.”
“Daddy’s been dead eighteen years and we still miss him.” She flicked a glance at the price tag.
“My old man was gone before he died.” Mark stepped away from the rack, clearly ready to move on. “He was too busy for much of anything, even seeing a doctor, and that’s what killed him.”
She fell into step beside him. “Heart attack?”
“Cancer. Waited until it was too late to do anything about it. My mom had the heart attack.”
The words were too cool, too smooth and practiced. She touched his arm, his heat seeping through his cotton polo. “Mark, you know it’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to admit that.”
He laughed. “Are you analyzing me?”
“No, I just—”
“Yeah, you are.” Without warning, he stopped, staring down at her. An audience of pigeons congregated around a nearby bench, cooing. The straggling tourists ignored them. “Do you admit all your hurts?”
Hers were common knowledge. “Everyone already knows. What’s to hide?”
He wasn’t smiling, his eyes dark and intent. “I don’t know. How about the woman you really are? Or the one you want to be.”
She didn’t know how to be that woman. “I could ask you the
“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Tori said, the contrast of rough and smooth tingling across her fingertips.
Mark glanced at the wall. “It’s coquina. A kind of limestone with layers of shells in it. The stuff’s practically indestructible. The Spanish built the fort out of it, and when the British fired on it, the walls just absorbed the cannonballs. There’s a reason that fort never fell.”
“How do you know that?”
He shrugged and glanced down the alley beside them. “I grew up down here. Find me a kid from this area that doesn’t know that.”
Another layer. She couldn’t resist peeling them away. “This is your hometown?”
“Preston. Small town just north.”
She looked at him quickly, but he continued staring down the alley. “The place with the antique mall.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed a hand over his nape.
Across the street, bubbles and New Age music wafted from the two-story building. Tori let one of the sparkling spheres land on her fingers. The rounded surface glinted a moment and disappeared with a pop, leaving a kiss of moisture on her skin. “You know, if you have family to visit, you don’t have to babysit me.”
He shrugged. “No family left.”
Her spirits dived because he didn’t deny the babysitting charge. Surely he didn’t still see her as Tick’s little sister, not after that afternoon. She eyed him. They’d stopped at a T-shirt shop and he was studying the humorous shirts displayed on a rack outside. A lonely air of aloofness surrounded him, drawing her closer.
“None at all?” she asked, keeping her voice quiet in the still evening air.
Shaking his head, he held up a Jimmy Buffet shirt and squinted at the parrot and bottle of rum on the front. “Nope. None.”
No family. She couldn’t get her mind around it. Her father was a hazy memory, but her mother centered her life. And even though she rarely saw her sister, she couldn’t imagine not being surrounded by her brothers, even when Tick drove her crazy. She shook her hair back, her chest tight. “I’m sorry.”
He glanced at her, a smile quirking at his mouth. The T-shirt went back on the rack. “Don’t be. I’ve been on my own for a long time.”
She glanced at him from beneath her lashes and lifted a shirt from the medium section. A big red lipstick mouth on the front accented a slogan about having a love affair with Florida. “How long?”
“Almost twenty years. My dad died my senior year of high school, my mom a couple years later.”
“Daddy’s been dead eighteen years and we still miss him.” She flicked a glance at the price tag.
“My old man was gone before he died.” Mark stepped away from the rack, clearly ready to move on. “He was too busy for much of anything, even seeing a doctor, and that’s what killed him.”
She fell into step beside him. “Heart attack?”
“Cancer. Waited until it was too late to do anything about it. My mom had the heart attack.”
The words were too cool, too smooth and practiced. She touched his arm, his heat seeping through his cotton polo. “Mark, you know it’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to admit that.”
He laughed. “Are you analyzing me?”
“No, I just—”
“Yeah, you are.” Without warning, he stopped, staring down at her. An audience of pigeons congregated around a nearby bench, cooing. The straggling tourists ignored them. “Do you admit all your hurts?”
Hers were common knowledge. “Everyone already knows. What’s to hide?”
He wasn’t smiling, his eyes dark and intent. “I don’t know. How about the woman you really are? Or the one you want to be.”
She didn’t know how to be that woman. “I could ask you the
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