Cape Cod Promises (Love on Rockwell Island 2)

The only way she could keep her hormones under any semblance of control around him was to open up the part of her mind she thought she’d sealed shut years ago, withdrawing one hurtful memory after another.

The way it had felt to wake up in their bed alone every day and going to bed alone too many nights while he was working late.

The overwhelming feeling every time she’d tried to venture out into the city—and the way Trent had been working too hard on growing his career to ever notice her discomfort.

How terrifying and heartbreaking the decision had been to walk out the door for good—and the painful, dark months that had followed.

The divorce papers that had sat on the table by her front door for weeks on end because she couldn’t bear to admit the end of their relationship.

When her chest was aching so much she thought she might not be able to function, she lifted her eyes to his. In the space of a second, the hurt lifted its arms and dove out to sea as Trent rolled back in.

“We can’t go out on a date.”

“What if it isn’t a date?” he said quickly. “What if it’s just two old friends getting together to catch up? You used to be my best friend, and I’ve missed you. More than I can say. Please, just give me this one night to talk.”

He’d always been a fantastic lawyer, smart but not slick, and with just a few simple sentences, he broke right through her walls. He’d talked about how they were each other’s best friend, and she knew some divorced couples managed to be friendly with one another. Then again, those tended to be the couples that had been better friends than lovers anyway. Whereas she and Trent had always been equal portions of both.

But if she could learn to turn her body off and just be his platonic friend, wouldn’t that make everything easier?

One time. No sex. Just an outing with a friend. We’ll talk.

She felt like she was standing at the top of a slippery slope, trying desperately to gather the past around her like a shield. But when it came to Trent, even her strongest shields were way too weak.

If they were going to meet to talk, they definitely needed to go someplace public so they wouldn’t be tempted to make the mistake of ripping each other’s clothes off. Even if it was a mistake she was craving body and soul.

“I promised an aspiring artist who lives on the other side of the island that I’d go see her work at a flea market tonight. I guess you can come with me if you’d like.”

The way his eyes lit up made her pulse go a little crazy, and she feared that even being in public might not help—but he was back for good, and she couldn’t live her life in an emotional hurricane. If she and Trent were going to be living on the same island for the foreseeable future, then she needed to work toward a friendship—without benefits.

* * *

REESE COULDN’T SHAKE off her conversation with Trent. After all these years of trying to forget him, she’d given in after only a few brief conversations and one glorious, mind-blowing kiss. What would she do after spending an hour with him?

Because she knew he was right—they did really need to talk. She needed to forget the way he made her hot and bothered, look Trent in the eye, and hash out the past. All of it. But first she needed to get over to her parents’ house and tell them that she and Trent were working on the mural project together. The island was small enough that her parents might bump into someone who saw them out together, and she didn’t want them to get the wrong impression.

She drove to their house thinking about what impression she did want to give them. The real question was, what impression did she have? Where was this leading? She didn’t have those answers yet. But she wanted her parents to hear about them working together from her first. She and Trent were simply working together on the mural and then going on one outing.

Definitely not a date. If they made it out the front door this time.

She parked in front of the cedar-sided Cape home she’d grown up in and then banged her head on the steering wheel. What am I doing? What do I want? With a sigh, she sat up straight again, and her eyes landed on the miniature lighthouse hanging from her rearview mirror.

Banging her head on the steering wheel wouldn’t help this time. There was no denying that he’d never really been far from her thoughts.

She followed the driveway up to her parents’ front door, hoping that her mixed emotions weren’t evident all over her face.