Chapter 3

"Connecticut, actually. I lived in Cincinnati for a while and learned a few things from my neighbor, such as what goes good with fried fish. Potato salad is a little unorthodox, but it was all I had, so I decided to whip it up." She sat opposite of him, not wanting to be rude and made sure to move the sides over, so none of them were blocking him. Marlize poured some tartar sauce on her plate, loving to eat it with the fish and took the first bite, grinning at the taste. "Yeah, this is so much better than any fish I've made since being here. Maybe you can even show me how to properly fry fish over a fire on a stick since, evidently, I've been doing it wrong." She was the type of woman that was open-minded and suddenly forgot something. "Want a beer? I forgot something to drink and I've got some ice cold ones in the fridge."

"Sure." The word 'pet' almost dropped, but he reigned it in, watching as she got up to go inside and retrieve those beers.

For a bigger woman, she had a delicious looking backside and it was a shame she owned a lot of boring, plain panties. Mark smirked wickedly, taking a bite of the fish and mentally pat himself on the back because it was delicious. He was a genius sometimes.

"Thanks." He took the beer she brought back out, watching as she set another down for him, two for herself as well.

Mark lapsed back into silence as he ate, skipping seconds on the collard greens because he wasn't really a fan. No matter how they were cooked, they reminded him of his youth too much and he didn't need those memories because they were tied to other, more recent memories he was trying not to dwell on. Potato salad, he got thirds, snorting when Marlize just stared at him like she didn't know what to say.

"Big man, pe- Marlize." He wasn't sure if he liked her name yet.

"Hey, you can eat however much you want."

Good thing she had made a lot more than she normally did. When Vince told her the visitor she would have to put up with for the thirty grand was a giant, she took that to heart. She took another bite of the fish and then the potato salad, her stomach a happy camper while sipping her beer. The beer went very well with the food, if she did say so herself and the potato salad was delicious, along with the collard greens and corn on the cob. Of course, Marlize was mindful and didn't pig out like she normally would have, eating respectfully without all the disgusting noises and whatnot.

"I usually make breakfast around seven in the morning, so if you want some, you're more than welcome to join me for that too every day. Or I can put a plate away for you to warm up whenever you decide to get up. Just let me know."

He honestly hadn't been expecting that. She had gone from cold and giving him not even a half-assed tour to now offering to fix him a plate of breakfast. Was she bipolar? If Marlize was, it was extreme because that was a rapid mood shift, even by his volatile standards. His excuse was he was just insane, so what was hers?

"I tend to sleep in quite late." It was true when he wasn't working anyway. Mark was at a point in his life right now where sleeping in was a luxury and he indulged it. "You have coffee, right?"

He should have asked that the minute he got here because he had a coffee problem, living on that and beer or whiskey, if he was feeling like something a little harder. Vince should have TOLD him about this fairly isolated place, so he could have had a crate of coffee and a crate of liquor delivered. That was probably the reason Vince hadn't gone into detail because he knew what his right hand was like and he wasn't going to risk his wife's wrath by allowing a drunken, grieving Undertaker loose on her niece.

He liked his balls right where they were.

"Don't worry, plenty of coffee is here. I need my java every morning or I'm a complete bear to be around."

Not that she hadn't been around people besides the few that were on the other side of the island at the small store she told him about. Marlize went there maybe once a week, if that, because the ferry came like clockwork once a week to bring her what she needed. Her good friend did the shopping for her and she paid him handsomely for his assistance with the shopping.

"Got creamer too and sugar, and anything else you need. And if I don't, you can always try the store in the other side of the island I told you about. Or add it to the list for the ferry pickup. The order is being placed tomorrow and it'll be here five days after that. The fish was delicious, thank you for taking over."

"How does that work? I assume there's a popular fishing or swimming spot nearby." Honestly, it made no sense to have a store on an island this size with only one or two inhabitants, it truly did not.

Mark listened as she began explaining that small cruises, or people on yachts, tended to stop and picnic on that side, go swimming in the shallows. Naturally, they'd buy stuff they had forgotten or little trinkets as souvenirs. He then assumed that stuff was marked way up because why not? One paid a steep price for the convenience.

He also couldn't imagine it selling things like eggs and milk, or general groceries. "I'll have a list for you tonight." After he went through the kitchen again. Mark didn't mind being waited on; he deserved to be and he knew it, but at the same time, he liked things done his way. He had a feeling Marlize was the same way and smiled at her. With all his teeth.

Since the ferry came once a week out here to deliver groceries and whatnot, yes, there were eggs and milk available at that store. The ferry went to them first and then swung around to drop off her order at the docks. Marlize knew it sounded confusing to most people who weren't used to how things worked here and that was completely understandable. Standing up from the table, she began cleaning up and lit the tiki torches to keep the mosquitoes at bay, making sure to spray herself down with bug spray too after putting the food away. Once that was done, she walked back outside and scooted a chair closer to the fire as nightfall finally arrived, staring up at the stars letting her stomach settle from the delicious food. She had to admit, Mark wasn't terrible company, and that gave her hope that maybe they would be fine here by themselves until Vince decided he'd cooled his jets enough to let him come back to work, whenever that would be.

No, Mark was terrible company. She just hadn't learned that yet. One never showed their hand right out the gate. He liked to know who and what he was dealing with and then proceed from there. Vince probably shouldn't have sent him here, of all places, but he had. Since Mark was screwed and had to stay here until he was either 'better' or Vince got his head out of his backside, he might as well occupy himself and have some fun.

It was boring, sitting around the fire, and he stood up eventually, walking away from the fire and from her. He ambled down the beach, able to see thanks to the moonlight and the refractions from it off the ocean. It is beautiful, he mused, clasping his hands behind his back as he stared out at the water. Beautiful and deadly. Mark liked it.

He had seen oceans hundreds of times before, he just rarely ever stopped to appreciate them. Then, the moment was over and he had kicked off his boots and shucked his pants. Not caring if she caught a glimpse of his pale, white backside, he walked into the water. It was cold and he liked that too, grinning as he submerged under.

Swimming in the ocean wasn't unheard of and Marlize hadn't caught that glimpse due to her eyes closed. That was until she heard the sound of water splashing and then her eyes were open, watching his giant silhouette cut through the water. That was something Marlize didn't do because it meant she'd have to put a bathing suit on and that wasn't happening in front of a complete stranger.

Hopefully, he could swim and it seemed that was the case, so she wasn't worried about it. Hell, if he drowned in the ocean, it wasn't on her she wasn't his keeper and made that clear to Vince. While Mark swam, she walked back inside the house to grab the Hershey bars, marshmallows and graham crackers, having her stick ready to roast the marshmallow over the fire. Within minutes, she had a gooey goodness in her hands and was devouring it, licking her fingers clean.

One, just one…would two really hurt her though?

Go ahead, fatty, have that second one. You know, porky, you should probably make it three, no wait…devour four of them. Maybe, just MAYBE, the new cellulite you get on your fucking belly apron won't be so bad. Maybe it'll go to your fat thighs instead this time. Fucking disgusting…you have to really hate yourself to shove all that down your throat, knowing how you look.

Mark eventually made his way back to the fire, even courteous to pull his jeans back on. They were now damp, thanks to his body still being wet, hugging him in all the right places because of that dampness, and he was bare foot, his boots in his hand. He probably should have buttoned them back up, not bothering too, showcasing the 'happy trail' that led down to what lay beneath the fabric. Halting a few feet from her, Marlize was staring at the s'more stuff, very much spaced out.

"Marlize?" Still didn't sound right and she didn't respond. "Pet?"

It was only after Mark placed his hand on her shoulder that Marlize snapped out of her deep thoughts, hearing her ex-husband's voice in her head, and looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" A single tear slid down her cheek and Marlize felt it, immediately looking away to wipe it away with her hand. "Sorry, got something in my eye. What did you say, Mark?"

The second s'more she had made was still on her plate, untouched, and she swiftly threw it into the fire with the paper plate, feeling disgusted with herself suddenly. Even after all this time, two years now, he still haunted her and Marlize hated him with every fiber of her being, needing to breathe. Maybe it was time for bed.

"Just your name." Her actions were curious and Mark was studying her intently, noting the tear that she had wiped away as soon as she had felt it. "Everything okay?" He was more inquisitive than caring, though he knew better than to allow that to seep into his tone. She had looked so spaced out, so lost in whatever was going on in her mind, and he wanted to know what she had just thought of. Something that hurt her, that much was obvious, and maybe angry, with some disgust thrown in, but he couldn't tell if it was aimed at herself or something else. Her eyes flashed up at him and he realized it was at herself, something to do with herself, and he caught the melted marshmallow on the corner of her mouth, gathering Marlize had already one or two.

"You got some," Mark gestured to the corner of his own mouth. "Some crème right there."

Gobbled it up without any manners, didn't you, fatty?

"Shit." Marlize immediately wiped it away with his thumb, swallowing hard and waved him off dismissively. "Yeah, everything's fine. I just, uh, gobbled down a s'more like a pig. No big deal. I'm gonna head to bed, do you want me to keep the fire going for you out here?" He nodded and she didn't bother telling him to make sure it was put out before he went to bed. Mark was a grown man and didn't need to be babied, coddled, or told what to do. "Goodnight."

Rushing into the house like her ass caught fire, Marlize didn't bother putting away the stuff with the smores and as soon as she was in her bedroom, she flipped the lock on the door and slid down it, burying her face in her hands as the tears began to pour. I even used the word gobbled. I'm so fucking pathetic! God, I hate you, Bradley! Burying her face in her knees, she wrapped her arms around them and cried for the next several hours right there against her door.

When Mark finally did come inside, for the final time because he had ventured in for another beer and his smokes, it was dead silent and pitch black inside. He had covered the fire, what was left of it with sand and, admittedly, there were a few cigarette butts in there as well. Mark needed to quit this nasty habit he had picked up. He had gathered up the food she had left outside and placed it on the counter before heading upstairs. It was probably cruel of him to find her misery, and she was miserable, interesting, but it was also a distraction from his own. Stopping before her closed door, Mark cocked his head because she let out one of those heavy, sleep sighs, with a hitch to it, like she had cried herself to sleep. Bitchy shrew at first. Hospitable hostess. Miserable. He walked away, heading for his own room to probably get very little sleep himself.