Page 9 of Waiting for a Prince (Island Tales #1)

Chapter Seven

“You neglected to mention when you invited me to go bowling, that you were absolutely fantastic at it,” Mark grumbled. He glanced up at the screen where his pitiful scores glared out for all to see. Pitiful when placed next to Sam’s, that was. Sam’s was a line of strikes and half-strikes.

Sam smirked. “Are we not having fun?” He adjusted his hold on the sparkly blue bowling ball and peered determinedly at the skittles.

For one brief moment Mark was tempted to nudge him—accidentally, of course—but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

And he was having fun, despite being on a losing streak.

This was their fourth game and Sam showed no signs of giving up his impressive lead.

“Another beer?” Mark suggested hopefully. Maybe alcohol would slow Sam down.

“Ooh, by all means.” Sam’s white teeth gleamed in the lights of the bowling alley. “I play even better when I’ve had a few.” He laughed as Mark groaned loudly. “You really don’t like losing, do you, Mark? And you’re not above playing dirty, either.” His eyes twinkled.

Mark pouted. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Sam snorted. “What do you call coughing loudly just as I’m about to bowl? Or yelling ‘Ooh, look at that’, when there’s nothing to see?”

“I’m not sure I like these insinuations.” He gave Sam a mock glare.

Not that he could keep up the act for long. It had been ages since Mark had had so enjoyable a night out. Sam’s jokes had his sides aching with laughter.

“Shall we have a beer—and a break?” Sam suggested. “Maybe some chips too?”

Mark grinned. “Yeah. Alcohol and food might help me break my losing streak.”

“I’ll get them.” Sam’s eyes gleamed. “You stay here and practice.”

“Cheeky sod.”

Sam laughed and walked off in the direction of the food counter.

Normally Mark didn’t go out during the week, but Sam’s phone call out of the blue as he’d got in from work had been a pleasant surprise.

Sam had made no mention of the aborted fireworks evening, but the suggestion of a night of bowling had come across as an apology of sorts, one which Mark was only too ready to accept.

As much as Mark needed a friend, he got the feeling Sam’s need was just as great.

He watched the guy on the next lane as he approached the foul line, noting how he launched the bowling ball down the lane. When all the skittles fell, Mark sighed.

Everyone’s a better bowler than me.

And maybe if he and Sam did this on a regular basis, he’d improve.

The thought provided a silver lining. More time with Sam?

Bring it on.

“I didn’t know if you wanted ketchup or mayo on your chips.” Sam set the tray down on the console.

Mark blinked. “Mayo? Really?”

“What’s wrong with mayo?”

Mark folded his arms. “I can see I might have to reassess our friendship. I mean, mayo …”

Sam stared at him for a moment, then narrowed his gaze. “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

Mark cackled and grabbed the nearest carton of chips.

They ate in silence against a backdrop of calls, whoops, cheers, and groans from the other players. Mark liked that neither of them felt the need to talk. When all trace of the chips had vanished, Sam leaned back with a contented sigh.

“I needed this.”

“The food? Or the bowling?”

He smiled. “A break from work. Thanks for saying yes.”

Mark shrugged. “Hey, anytime you want to do something, just call.”

Sam’s eyes gleamed. “Well, there was something.” Mark gave him an inquiring glance, and Sam pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled. “This.” He held it up for Mark to see.

Mark beamed. “Yeah, I’d be up for that.” One of the island’s theme parks—there were only two—was about to put on a week of open-air cinema. “What are they showing?”

“There are a few films I’d like to see.” Sam’s breathing hitched. “They’re showing a Spielberg classic— Jaws .” His eyes lit up.

“When’s it on?”

Sam scrolled once more. “Wednesday, August fourteenth.” He peered at Mark. “Would you be up for that?”

He grinned. “You bet I would. We can take a cool bag with food and drink, and eat before it starts. I’ve got a couple of inflatable wedges to lean back on, so we can get comfy while we watch.”

“Sounds as though you’ve done this before.”

Mark blinked. “You mean you haven’t? Wow. Talk about missing out.”

Sam didn’t respond, reaching for his beer instead.

Something was niggling Mark.

“Won’t Rebecca mind you spending another night with me?” He had no clue whether she’d been invited that evening. Sam hadn’t mentioned her.

Come to think of it, Sam hadn’t spoken her name once.

Sam frowned. “I didn’t ask her along tonight because I knew she wouldn’t come. She hates bowling. She thinks it’s common.” His face flushed. “And she hates Spielberg, so I can’t see her wanting to join us for that, either.”

Mark gave another shrug. Privately he was pleased not to have Rebecca accompany them. Based on their two previous meetings, although brief, he didn’t think an evening with her would be all that enjoyable.

On the other hand, he was amazed at how well he and Sam got along. It felt as if they had known each other for years.

But still, the memory of Friday night lingered.

“As long as you’re sure she’s not gonna start telling you that you can’t play with that tea boy Mark anymore.” He chuckled.

Sam guffawed. “How old are you? Six?” He shook his head. “Besides, if I want to spend time with you, it’s none of her concern. She has her own life, after all.”

“What does she do?” Mark was intrigued. He couldn’t for a minute imagine what Rebecca’s profession might be.

Sam’s lips narrowed. “Her time is divided between the gym, the pool and going over to the mainland to shop.” He grimaced.

“If shopping were an Olympic event, we’d be talking gold medal winner.

” He cleared his throat and stood. “Okay, break over. Time for me to beat you again.” He reclaimed his sparkly blue bowling ball and stepped up to the line.

He launched it, and Mark arched his eyebrows when it ended up in the gutter.

It looks as if Sam has an Achilles heel—Rebecca.

The distinctly unhappy expression on Sam’s face, however, left Mark unwilling to press his advantage.

Mark glanced at his phone. “How about we call it a night?” It was already gone nine, and Mark needed his eight hours.

Sam shrugged. “Okay by me.” The slump of his shoulders and the sudden break in eye contact told Mark a different story.

I did that. Somehow, bringing Rebecca into the conversation had resulted in Sam’s abrupt change in mood.

And isn’t that weird?

Mark wasn’t about to let his friend stay down for long.

“How about coming to Wetherspoons with me on Friday night? You could meet me after work and we could grab a bite to eat there.”

Sam’s brow cleared. “Yeah, that sounds great.” He smiled, and Mark was relieved to see the light back in his eyes.

And I did that too.

Mark resolved to keep that light where it belonged. Then it hit him.

They may only have known each other for a relatively short time, but Sam seemed to have slipped quietly into Mark’s life, as if he had always been there.

And I want him to stay there.

Sam watched as Mark’s Ford Fiesta pulled out of the carpark. Mark’s parting words that he’d booked them tickets for Jaws had made him smile.

I think I smiled more in one night than I have done for the last six months.

Their shared laughter had been the medicine Sam needed.

Then his own words returned to haunt him.

If I want to spend time with you, it’s none of her concern. She has her own life, after all.

If only it were that simple.

Right on cue, his phone buzzed. He sat on the wall separating the carpark from the beach, and clicked Answer. “Hi. How was your evening?”

“Boring, if you must know. Where were you? I called by your flat. Your car was there, but you didn’t answer when I rang.”

“I was out bowling. I took the bus.”

“Who were you bowling with?”

God, he hated these interrogations. “With Mark.”

“Again?”

He couldn’t rein in his irritation, even though he knew it was a bad idea. “What do you mean, again? I was supposed to listen to the band and watch the fireworks with him on Friday. I think we spent five minutes talking before you arrived. And the rest of my evening was spent with you.”

“Excuse me? I’m your girlfriend. Don’t I come first?” That sharp edge was back in her voice, so Sam guessed her dad wasn’t in earshot.

Sam took a deep breath. “I think girlfriend is pushing it a bit, don’t you?”

For the life of him, he couldn’t think of a more appropriate word.

The silence that fell with a thud told Sam he’d just bought himself a whole lot of trouble.

“Dad asked me to call. He wants you to join us at the house for dinner on Thursday night.” Her tone was clipped, which told Sam plenty.

Jack is in the room, isn’t he?

“I’ll be there.” There was little point arguing.

“Fine. We’ll see you then. Love you.” She hung up.

Sam pocketed his phone, his heart heavy.

I’m not sure I can take much more of this.

Doing something about it, though, was out of the question.

Rebecca had an ace up her sleeve, and she wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

The only glimmer of hope on the horizon was his newfound friendship. At least with Mark he could relax, laugh, talk…

Breathe.