by Bella Andre
“Annabelle has a great eye,” Shelley agreed.
“I’m happy to take the compliment,” Annabelle said, “but you could wear tatters and you’d be gorgeous.”
“I agree,” Abby said, “especially with such great hair. My children have thick hair, thanks to my husband, but I wasn’t so lucky.”
Shelley had a love-hate relationship with her thick mass of dark hair. More love than hate since her teenage years, thankfully, but there was definitely a lot of frustration leading up to that point. She’d spent her youth trying to tame it, to make it straight and shiny, even going so far as to iron it to fit in with the other girls in her parents’ social circles. But when she was a teenager she’d given up and decided she was going to own her differences. At first it had been a way to rebel against her supremely prim parents, but it had quickly turned into something more. Shelley had come to appreciate all the ways she was different, from her taste in clothing to her spunky personality and inability to sit quietly and not give her opinion about things she didn’t agree with. By the time she was eighteen, she’d given up completely on the impossible task of pleasing her parents and had never looked back.
“I’m Abby Rockwell, by the way.”
Shelley smiled and held out her hand. “Shelley Walters.”
Abby studied her more closely. “You know what—the more we talk, the more I feel like I’ve met you before.”
Shelley would have remembered this vibrant woman if they’d ever met. “This is my first time to Rockwell Island.”
“Welcome to the island.”
“Thank you. I love it here already. Although if you happen to know where I can find a coffee shop, I’ll be in absolute heaven. I’m dying for a toffee latte.”
“We have a diner on the corner of West and Wells. Just down the street to the right one block, then two blocks to the left and you’ll find it. They won’t have specialty coffees, although they do offer flavored creamers.” Abby sighed. “I love living in a small town, but the truth is we could really use a nice specialty coffee shop.”
“With homemade pastries and cookies, too,” Annabelle added.
Abby nodded. “I know the island book clubbers would love to have another place to meet, and the Tuesday-morning ladies’ group could meet there, too. Heck, we’re all so desperate for a great café that I’m sure it would be mobbed from the moment it opened its doors.”
“Actually,” Shelley said with a smile, “I own a coffee shop in Maryland, where we offer more than twenty different types of specialty organic coffees, and baked goods, too.” Maybe it was the fact that she was having one of the best mornings ever, but she suddenly found herself saying, “I hadn’t really given much thought to expanding before, but do you really think a café would do that well here?”
“Absolutely!” Abby said, while Annabelle nodded as well. “In fact, if that’s really something you would consider, you should meet my daughter, Sierra. She owns the Hideaway over on Main. She’s a chef, and she’s always talking about expanding the offerings on the island. And she’s a coffeeaholic. I bet you two would really hit it off.”
“Watch out, though,” Annabelle said. “Sierra’s a total island girl. She’ll convince you to pick up and move here in about seven seconds.”
“I’m going over there in about an hour,” Abby told Shelley. “Why don’t you stop by if you have time and I’ll introduce you?”
“I’d love that. Thank you.” Shelley could hardly believe how friendly the people here were and how vested they were in the island.
Between the idea of a sexy fling on a romantic island with the hottest guy she'd ever met—why not think positive?—and the new out-of-the-blue, but very exciting, possibility of bringing her coffee shop to the island, she was smiling like a fool as she headed out the door to see what else this magical island had in store for her.
QUINN SAT AT a table in the Hideaway with the rest of his family, discussing their grandfather’s latest mandate. They’d been at it for an hour already, and between the work he had to prepare for the RBE merger and this nightmare with the resort, his frustration was mounting by the second.
“Trent, honey, stop watching the door. Reese isn’t back on the island yet.” Their mother, Abigail Rockwell, smiled gently at her eldest son. “She’s still out in Oregon, helping her sister with her new baby.”
Trent and Theresa Nicholson, whom everyone called Reese, had married a little more than ten years ago, after a whirlwind romance the summer after Trent graduated from law school. They’d moved to New York City, and for reasons that none of the rest of them completely knew or understood, Trent and Reese’s marriage had ended before the following summer. Reese had moved back to the island, while Trent had stayed in the city. While it was impossible for them to completely avoid each other when he did come back for short visits to the island, both of them clearly did their best to stay out of each other’s way. For the most part, the Rockwells avoided talking about Reese around Trent, but Abby was obviously trying to put him at ease during his time on the island so that he wouldn’t be stressed about running into her.
Trent shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m not worried about running into Reese.”
Sierra touched Trent’s shoulder, her expression empathetic as she said, “First loves are hard to forget.”
“Right,” Quinn said under his breath. A little brotherly teasing was too tempting to resist. Especially when as far as he could remember, Trent and Reese had never been able to keep their hands off each other. The quickie wedding hadn't surprised any of them. Only the almost-as-quick divorce had.
“Can we get back to the matter at hand, please?” Trent cleared his throat. “We all have businesses to get back to, and the longer we put off our decision, the more power Chandler thinks he has.”
“Besides the fact that he can’t demand that the three of us give up our lives and move back to the island,” Derek said, “there’s no way I’m going to take part in anything that demeans Dad by completely cutting him out of the resort he’s given his entire career to. And the fact that he totally left Sierra out of the negotiations also rubs me the wrong way.”
“I appreciate where you’re coming from, Derek,” Griffin said as he met Derek’s angry gaze and also put a hand over Sierra’s and gave it a comforting squeeze. “But the responsibility for the resort, and the island, doesn’t have to fall on your shoulders.”
“Your father had an idea of what your grandfather was up to,” their mother told them. “He wasn’t blindsided by this.”
“Even so, it’s not right.” Derek turned his attention to Trent. “Did you read the edict?”
Trent reached into his briefcase and pulled out the document. “Every word, several times over. Look, I know we’re all angry and frustrated, but I think we need to focus on the things that matter most. We can’t let him sell the property to a conglomerate. Not when so many island residents rely on the resort to earn a living.”
“Listen,” Griffin said, “you kids don’t need to do this. I’ll figure out a way to get past his crazy plan so the island and the residents aren’t in jeopardy. I’d never let the people here down. The last thing I want is to see the island where we all grew up turn into a haven for big business.”
As Chandler’s only son, Griffin had always been expected to follow in his father’s footsteps and run the resort. Only there was no stepping into Chandler’s shoes. Not when he kept his fingers in every nook and cranny of the business, often upsetting negotiations and disgruntling employees and distributors. Everyone, except maybe Chandler, knew that Griffin worked behind the scenes like an undercover superhero smoothing over relationships and keeping the employees happy. If it weren’t for Griff, the resort would have lost its loyal staff long ago.
But Griffin Rockwell had never sugarcoated his father’s harsh antics where his children were concerned. Not when they’d see right through any veil of protection he tried to extend. Quinn and his siblings knew that their father had lived a l
ife he’d never wish on them. That was why he and their mother had supported—and encouraged—each of their children to move away from the island, and more important, to create their own successful paths. Sierra and Ethan, however, had always felt such a strong kinship to the island that they had returned right after college.
Quinn knew his father meant everything he said. He’d take one for the family, as he’d been doing for years. But Quinn didn’t like the idea of it. Not one bit.
“Dad, we aren’t going to leave you in a lurch. Hell, I still can’t understand how you’ve put up with Chandler for so long.”
“And I can’t believe he’s doing this,” Sierra said, her jaw clenched so tight that Quinn thought she might crack her teeth. “Not just to you guys, but to me and Dad, too. I’m the only one who goes out of my way to be nice to him, and he completely cuts me out of everything? Especially after having the gall to tell me that my restaurant is a cute hobby? As if it’s just a holdover until I get married, or like it would be more meaningful if I were a man.”
Trent draped an arm over Sierra’s shoulder. “One thing is for sure—if we even entertain this situation, we’re not doing it unless all five of us are part of it.”
“Agreed,” Quinn said as his other brothers nodded, as well. “Dad, we’re not going to let you take the heat alone anymore. You’ve held down the fort and sheltered us from his wrath long enough. You and Mom are the reasons each of us got out from under his thumb in the first place. As much as I don’t like being forced into anything, it’s our turn to shoulder the burden of Grandfather and the resort. We’ll figure out a way to manage our businesses while working here.”
“All or nothing, though,” Trent said. “Five of us or none of us.”
Ethan nodded. “I’m in.”
Sierra sat up a little taller. “I’m all in, too, but I’m not giving up my restaurant.”
“Don’t worry, sis. We’re not going to give up any of our businesses,” Quinn assured her. “We’re five savvy businesspeople. We can do this, and I’m sure all of us don’t have to live here to make it happen. He’s going to have to forget the part about living on the island ninety-five percent of the time. At least for me.”
“All or nothing,” Derek finally relented. “But it’s for Dad and the residents, not for Grandfather.” Their father held his hand up, silencing them all. Their mother placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Griff?”
Their father had such a friendly face that even when under duress he possessed underlying warmth. The warmth showed now in his dark eyes as they traveled slowly over each of his children’s faces, his love for each of them as clear as could be. Setting a softer gaze on their mother, he took her hand. Silent, effortless communication passed between them, speaking volumes of the strong relationship Quinn had always admired.
“What you are all trying to do is admirable,” their father finally said, “but I won’t let you take the brunt of my father’s overbearing plan.”
But Quinn had watched his father take enough heat from Chandler. More than enough. So even though he wasn’t keen on any part of their grandfather’s plan, he wasn’t about to let his father continue handling this alone. At the same time, he also knew that demanding wouldn’t get them very far. That was Chandler’s way, not his father’s.
“Dad,” Quinn said, “let us do this for you.”
“There comes a time for power in numbers,” Trent agreed. “It’s time to finally take Grandfather’s power away and lay down some ground rules. It’s only a year. We can figure this out.”
“Trent, Quinn, Derek, Ethan, Sierra,” their father said, “you know how much I respect all of you. The choices you’ve made, the way you live your lives, the incredible men and woman you are. But Chandler is my father. He’s not your responsibility, and I’m not going to give him the power over each of your lives. If we allow this, he’ll treat you like his puppets forever. I’ll handle it.”
Griffin rose to his feet, leaving no room for negotiation, and Abby gave each of them a kiss on their cheeks before leaving with him.
“That went well,” Derek said in a sarcastic voice. Sierra looked miserable. Trent was studying the document their grandfather had given them to find some sort of loophole in their grandfather’s plan. And Ethan was obviously dying to get back out into his fishing boat to try to forget about the whole thing.
This had been one of Quinn’s worst days in recent memory, and he didn’t think anything could turn it around. At least not until he looked up and saw Shelley come through the door.
Last night she’d been the one unexpectedly bright part of his day. If he had any luck left at all, maybe she’d be able to do the impossible and brighten up this one, too.
Chapter Six
SHELLEY WAS EVEN more beautiful than Quinn remembered. In the light of day, her skin glistened with the sheen of a fresh tan. Her dark hair was sexily mussed, cascading in thick waves over her bare shoulders, and she wore a loose, casual spaghetti-strap top with a pair of jeans shorts. Vividly remembering dragging her hips into his and her gasp of pleasure as he'd taken their kiss even deeper, when he saw that her eyes were dancing over the bar like she was looking for someone, he hoped like hell it was him.
“We need to think things over and come up with a game plan, despite what Dad said. Let’s reconvene tomorrow morning over breakfast?” Trent suggested.
Quinn was only half listening, though, because Ray Brewster, a guy who’d grown up with them on the island, had just put his hand on Shelley’s lower back. Quinn’s jaw tightened as Brewster leaned in close and said something to her. Whatever it was, Quinn wanted the guy’s hand off Shelley’s back. Now.
“Quinn?” Trent waved a hand in front of his face. “Tomorrow morning work for you?”
“Sure.” He rose to his feet.
“Where are you going?” Trent followed Quinn’s gaze. “Oh. Is that her? Cove girl?”
“Shelley,” Quinn corrected him. He’d told Trent about meeting Shelley at the cove, although he’d left out the details of the skinny-dipping and the kiss.
Trent laughed under his breath. “Looks like Brewster is making a move. You’d better go claim her.”
In his mind he already had. They hadn’t done more than walk from the cove to the cottage in the moonlight and share one incredible kiss, but it was a kiss—and an evening—that Quinn knew he’d never forget. Shelley was the only woman who had ever claimed one hundred percent of his attention, and the only woman to ever make him want so wildly, so possessively. And though he knew she’d been a little tipsy, he had a feeling that even so, he had seen the real Shelley. Sweet and passionate. Nice, yet a little bit naughty, too.
All day long he’d been dealing with his family and the resort. He’d hoped to get over to the beach to see if he could catch her to ask her out for a drink, but between dealing with his grandfather, his family, and his business, he’d barely had the chance to even take a full breath.
Now all he wanted to do was forget about all of that for a little while so that he could focus on Shelley.
Which meant getting her away from Ray Brewster, for a start. Ray wasn’t a bad guy. On the contrary, he was a nice, trustworthy guy—and in a minute he’d be a nice guy who didn’t have a shot at Shelley.
Shelley turned as Quinn approached, and when their eyes locked, the path between them immediately blazed with heat, just as it had last night. “Shelley, I was just thinking about you, hoping I’d see you again.”
Her breathing visibly hitched at his words and he nearly grabbed her right then and there in front of everyone to kiss her.
“I was hoping to see you again, too, Quinn.”
Brewster’s hand immediately slid from her back.
Perfect.
“Hey, Rockwell,” Brewster said. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen all of your brothers and Sierra in one place. How’s it going?”
Quinn had to work hard not to grunt like a Neanderthal as he quickly replied, “Things are great, Brewster
. Hope they’re good for you, too,” then turned his attention back to Shelley.
But when Quinn looked into her eyes again, he was surprised to see that she looked slightly stunned. “Rockwell? As in Rockwell Island? As in Rockwell Resort?”
Quinn was used to women gushing over his familial wealth and the extra-flirtatious giggles and touches they lavished him with when they found out that he was a Rockwell, even if he didn’t care for it.
“Yes, that Rockwell.” He nodded to the table behind him. “That’s my family.”
In an instant, the shimmer of desire that had sparked between them when he’d found her in the bar all but disappeared. But before he could even get a chance to ask Shelley what he’d said—or done—wrong, Quinn felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Quinn, honey,” his mother said, “in all the hullabaloo, I forgot my purse.”
He’d been so lost in Shelley that he hadn’t seen his mother come back into the restaurant.
“Shelley.” His mother smiled warmly. “I’m so glad you made it.”
“Thank you, Abby,” Shelley said, although her voice sounded a bit strained now. “Your directions were perfect.”
“And I see you’ve already met Quinn.”
Abby applied gentle pressure to the hand on Quinn’s shoulder in a way that reminded him of when he was twelve and had won a sailing medal. Before going up to accept the award, his mother had touched him on his lower back, giving him a gentle nudge forward.
But he didn’t need a nudge toward Shelley. He was ready to sprint toward her.
Only, somewhere between the look of desire they’d shared when he’d first walked up to her in the bar and when she’d learned his last name, their connection—or rather, her connection—seemed to have been severed.
He couldn’t believe he was on the verge of losing the brightest part of this whole trip back to the island.
“Sierra, honey. Come here for a moment.” His mother waved his sister over. “I want you to meet Shelley. She owns a gourmet coffee shop off the island, and I was thinking it would be great for the two of you to get together to chat about all the possibilities for a café like that here on Rockwell Island.”
