Page 19 of Waiting for a Prince
What was foremost in his mind was the look on Sam’s face.
His friend wasn’t happy, that much was clear. Mark wished there was something he could do. And then it hit him. In the space of a week, less even, Sam had gotten under his skin.
How the hell did he do that so fast?
All Mark knew was, Sam had become important to him. And Mark wanted to help him. He’d just have to figure out how.
Sam stood on the balcony of the Yacht Club, scanning the crowds below for any sign of Mark, but the throng seemed to have swallowed him up.
“Isn’t this fun?” Rebecca finished her glass of champagne, then went in search of another.
Sam hadn’t touched his. He was surrounded by well-dressed people all talking about boats, the week’s races, the price of fuel…
I don’t fit it here.
Rebecca glanced at his tee. “You might have worn something else. I mean,jeans. They’re not evendesignerjeans. And you could’ve worn a jacket. Everyone can see your tattoos.” She wrinkled her nose again. “I can see your nipple rings through that cheap T-shirt.”
Sam bit his lip. “Anyone would think you disapproved. What’s hanging in your navel tonight? Is it the drop crystal or the blue stone?”
Her eyes flashed. “Except no one can seemypiercing, can they? And I don’t know why you decided to have tattoos.”
He sighed. “Everyone has them nowadays. Even your friends have them.” He smiled. “So does your dad.” The tats on Jack’s forearms looked as if they’d been done a long time ago.
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “I need a drink.” She strode toward the bar.
“Sam, how’s your dad?”
Talk of the devil…
Sam forced a smile. “He’s fine, sir.”
Jack Trent chuckled. “The stories I could tell you… We got up to some stuff when we were at school together, your dad and I.” He cocked his head. “You’ve got your mother’s looks.”
He smiled. “That’s what everyone says.”
Jack glanced around, then leaned in. “You and Becky… I’m glad it’s working out.” His voice was just loud enough to be heard over the noise from below.
It was so far from working out as to be laughable. All Sam could do was nod.
“She seems happy. You’re obviously good for her.”
Sam knew happy was a euphemism for something else. Probablycalm. And still he couldn’t speak.
“Are you okay, Sam?”
He swallowed. “Yes, sir. I’m tired, that’s all. I’ve been working hard.”
Jack smiled. “Then this is exactly what you need. A night off.” He nodded toward Sam’s glass. “Would you like something else to drink? Not everyone is into champagne, contrary to what Becky thinks.”
Sam didn’t want anything else to drink. He simply wanted to get out of there.
Fat chance ofthathappening.
Rebecca reappeared, holding another glass of champagne. “Dad, Councillor Waterman was looking for you.” She gave him a bright smile.
Jack let out an exaggerated sigh. “I know what he wants. Another donation to one of the council’s projects.” He patted Sam’s arm. “Good to see you here, son.” And then he was gone, submerged into a tightly packed room full of people all talking way too loudly.
Rebecca’s smile faded. “Did you and Dad have a good talk?”
