“I still don’t get it. Your bullheaded grandfather demands that you and your brothers drop what you’re doing and run back to appease whatever whim he’s got going, and even though you’re thirty-four years old, for some reason you still go.”
After getting caught in an evening meeting and missing his flight, Quinn had to charter a plane to get to the island. It was almost midnight, and he was in no mood to defend this trip to Rich when he hadn’t wanted to take it in the first place.
“My grandfather had another heart attack a month ago. I don’t know what he’s got up his sleeve, but family comes first.” Always. “Even crotchety, old, stubborn family.”
Quinn’s grandfather, Chandler Rockwell III, owned the Rockwell Resort and employed more than half of the island’s workforce. He wasn’t known by his family or his staff for his warm demeanor. But that didn’t mean Quinn would ever disrespect him.
“At least you made tonight’s meeting,” Rich relented. “I’ll have those documents ready for signature by this time next week, but you need to go over the reports as soon as possible.”
After agreeing to compile information for Rich to take to Monday’s meeting and get back to Maryland in time to sign the documents in person, Quinn ended the call and loosened his tie. Needing to go for a run to burn off some energy, he threw his leather duffel up on the bed and pulled out his jogging shorts. He was as much of an exercise junkie as he was a workaholic. He believed in keeping his mind and his body sharp, and even though he was tired after a grueling sixteen-hour day, he was going to go for that run.
He changed into his shorts, splashed water on his face, and glanced up at his reflection in the mirror. For a moment, it was like looking into his grandfather’s eyes—serious and way too stressed.
Quinn shook his head to clear that strange thought, stuffed the keycard into his pocket, and headed out the door just as his eldest brother, Trent, came out of the suite next door.
“I thought I heard you.” Smiling, Trent embraced Quinn.
The Rockwell men were all over six feet tall and broad shouldered. Trent, Quinn, and their younger brothers, Derek and Ethan, all resembled their father, with thick dark hair, an angular nose, and a strong jawline. Quinn and Trent shared their mother’s baby blues, while their brothers and their sister, Sierra, inherited their father’s dark brown eyes.
“Got in late. Hope I didn’t wake you.” It had been a few weeks since Quinn and Trent had been able to find a couple of spare hours away from their demanding jobs to meet for dinner in New York, where Trent lived and ran his legal practice.
Trent raked a hand through his hair. He was still wearing his suit pants but no shirt. “I’m not even close to heading to bed yet.” He eyed Quinn’s shorts. “Going for a run? At midnight?”
“Gotta work off some steam. Want to join me?” Quinn and Trent had often run together as teenagers and when they were home during college breaks.
“Thanks, but I’ve got at least another hour of work to do on these briefs, and we’ve got the meeting with Chandler in the morning.”
They always called their grandfather by his first name when speaking to each other, since he wasn’t warm enough to be considered Grandpa, and he’d never have allowed the endearment anyway. Chandler demanded that they refer to him as Grandfather.
“Now that you’ve reminded me about Chandler, I think I’ll make it a six-mile run instead of five.” Quinn blew out a frustrated breath. “Did you hear anything more about why he’s made all of us come back here?”
“Sierra said she thinks it has to do with the resort, but I couldn’t get ahold of Dad. He’s going to meet with all of us tomorrow afternoon.” Trent checked his watch. “You’d better go if you’re set on running.”
“Right. We’ll catch up in the morning.”
Quinn’s legs felt like they’d been caged in place for too long as he headed out for his run. It took a while for his limbs to loosen up and his body to remember it liked to run.
He took off down Bay Road, running parallel to the water. Stars dotted the sky, and moonlight basked the road in a soft glow. Finally, he found his groove and ran at a good clip for the first few miles, mentally working through his meetings from earlier in the day and trying to ignore his agitation at being summoned to the island.
Like always, he ran down a path by the trees, heading for Mill Cove. If any place on this island could help him clear his head, it was the secluded cove where, as a kid, he used to escape when he felt the island pressing in on him.