Page 11 of Waiting for a Prince
“I take it you don’t like them.” Sam jerked his head up and Mark gave a nod toward his plate. “Pickles.”
Sam pulled a face. “Can’t stand them.”
Mark laughed and reaching across with his fork, he stabbed into a fat pickle. The prongs of the fork skittered over its slippery surface, sending the pickle shooting off the plate and under the pole to land on the sand. “Oops. Slippery little sucker.” He winked at Sam, who shook his head. Sam picked up his plate and pushed the remaining pickles onto Mark’s plate.
“Next time, just ask.” Sam pointed at Mark’s plate, a hopeful gleam in his eye. “Er, do you want that coleslaw?”
Mark let out an exaggerated sigh as he pushed the coleslaw onto Sam’s plate. “Anything else you want while we’re at it? The rest of my sandwich, perhaps? My crisps?” Sam gave him a smile and leaned across to snaffle one of Mark’s crisps but Mark smacked his hand away before he could reach. “Touch them and die.” He squinted at Sam who held up his hands and backed away, smirking. “You don’t go around touching a man’s crisps.”
Sam snickered. “Is this some social etiquette rule I wasn’t aware of? ‘Do not handle another man’s crisps’?” The two men chuckled.
A wave of relief flooded through Mark.He’s loosening up a little.
Sam took another drink of his Coke and then regarded Mark keenly. “So, how long have you been working at Hair Today?”
“About six months.” Mark stretched his back and then resettled into his seat. “Mind you, that was after nearly eighteen months of job-hunting. There were no positions anywhere on the island.” He stared gloomily at his plate. No wonder loads of young people wanted to move away. Job prospects were thin on the ground. There was always lots of seasonal work, but he hadn’t wanted that.
“Did you train at the college?” Sam inquired, referring to the Island’s further education centre. Mark nodded. Sam tilted his head. “How many blokes were on the course?”
He scowled. “Just me that year. I tell you, the amount of ribbing I took from those girls was nobody’s business.”
Sam winced. “I can imagine. And I’ll bet you had to put up with a load of digs about how you must be gay to be doing a beauty therapy course.”
Mark stared.Is he trying to be funny?And then the penny dropped.
Ohhell….
“Sam, Iamgay.” His stomach clenched when Sam paled.
Mark became very still.Oh,pleasedon’t be one of these homophobic fuckers I seem to be continually running into…
“Oh God, Mark, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. God, you must think me so rude.” Sam appeared horrified, but Mark quickly surmised that was down to having made such a gaffe.
He gave Sam an easy smile. “Hey, it’s fine, you didn’t know.” His eyebrows quirked. “Although I was sure me calling you ‘hon’ on Saturday was a bit of a giveaway.” He smirked.
Sam’s brow furrowed. “You did? I don’t remember.” He took several gulps of his Coke. “So, do you have a boyfriend?Partner?” He seemed flustered all of a sudden. It was actually quite sweet.
“Nope.”
Okay, this felt awkward as hell.
It had been less than a couple of hours since Mark had been lusting after him, imagining all kinds of hot encounters. It was true Mark found him attractive—okay, maybe that was a gross understatement, because hey, the man was drop-deadgorgeous—but the more they’d chatted on the beach and before lunch arrived, the more Mark started to see the real Sam, whose good looks were simply another part of the whole.
Which makes me shallow as fuck.
Maybe it was time to change the subject.
“So, how long have you and…” He struggled to recall the woman’s name. “Becky? Rebecca? How long have you two been together?”
Sam shifted in his seat and looked out toward the sea, crossing his arms once more. “About six months or so. Not all that long.” His expression grew apologetic. “Look, about Saturday… I’m really sorry if we caused a scene.” His face fell. “I didn’t mean to leave like that. I think she just rubbed me up the wrong way.”
Mark waved a hand. “Hey, don’t worry about it. All couples have fallouts now and again.”Or so I’ve heard.He had yet to experience being part of a couple.
“Now and again, I could put up with,” Sam muttered. Suddenly his face cleared. “Enough about me. Let’s talk about you. Do you like working there?”
It was clear Mark wasn’t the only one who wanted to change the subject.
Mark expelled a breath. “It’s not what I imagined, that’s for sure. I thought they were going to have me trailing one of the senior stylists at first, you know, finding my feet. But it’s beena case of ‘clean up the salon, Mark. Make tea, Mark. Sweep the floor, Mark.’ He mimicked Marie’s nasal voice and Sam chortled. “I swear my boss hates me. And while the other girls are okay, it’s pretty obvious they’re not used to having a guy around the salon.” He stared resignedly at the remains of his sandwich. “Maybe it will be better with time.” He glanced up at Sam. “Okay, I know you did a degree in Computer programming. What did you end up doing with it?”
