Cape Cod Promises (Love on Rockwell Island 2)

“I take it Sierra mentioned our conversation?” The one where he’d told his sister he wanted Reese back more than he wanted anything else in the entire world.

“Who else?”

Trent laughed, knowing that the only reason his sister had talked to Derek about Trent and Reese was because she was full of hope that the two of them could make things work the second time around. In fact, Sierra was fairly bursting with that hope.

She’d so loved having Reese as a sister-in-law. Clearly, she was ready for them to be sisters again. One day, when his sister finally fell in love, he sure hoped it went smoother for her than it had for him or Quinn. And the guy she fell for better treat her like a princess, or Trent and his brothers would tear the guy apart with their bare hands.

“Yes, we’re a couple again.” And if he didn’t screw anything up this time around, he prayed things would stay that way. He’d been thinking about Reese all day, and the hours couldn’t pass quickly enough until he’d see her again at dinner and find out how her talk with her parents had gone. She’d sent him a text message with no words, just a heart. He’d texted back, but he hadn’t heard from her again, so he knew she had to be immersed in painting.

“I’m really happy for you, Trent. You two were always good together. Plus,” he added with a grin, “it’s better you heading to the altar than me.”

“The altar?”

“Sierra and Shelley are so excited about you and Reese that they’re practically planning your wedding.”

Sierra and Shelley aren’t the only ones, Trent thought, even though he knew he shouldn’t be letting himself race ahead that fast. Reese was right—they needed to work on building a really strong foundation first.

“Right now,” he admitted to his brother, “we’re just taking it one day at a time and trying to get things right this time around. But if I have it my way, we’ll definitely be moving in the wedding bells direction.”

Derek shook his head. “What is it with you and Quinn? Is being married really that great?”

It could have been. If only I hadn’t blown it.

But Trent simply eyed Derek’s bandage. A few weeks ago he’d gotten a cut on his shoulder and he’d had Didi stitch it up for him, and before that it was his forearm, which Didi had also stitched up. Now Trent couldn’t resist saying, “I’m sure Didi is as good with a needle as you say she is. But is that the real reason you’re constantly knocking on her door?”

Derek scoffed. “I told you before, I don’t have a death wish. Which means Didi’s off-limits.”

Trent’s phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, hoping it was Reese, and was both disappointed and annoyed when his grandfather’s number appeared on his screen.

“Speak of the devil.” He mouthed Chandler to Derek, then answered the phone. “Hello.”

“Hello, Trent. I’m sorry to bother you on the weekend, but your grandfather has asked that you meet him in his office as soon as possible.” Chandler’s secretary, Darla, sounded very apologetic.

Respect for his elders was so ingrained in Trent that he felt pressure to accept his grandfather’s summons, regardless of the fact that he and his brother weren’t done with lunch yet. “Okay. I’m over at Sierra’s restaurant. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Chandler beckons...” Trent pushed away from the table.

“So what? He’s out of the business, Trent. It’s in our hands now. He doesn’t own you. You don’t have to jump up and run over there.”

“No, but he is our grandfather,” Trent reminded him.

“I’m pretty sure that means more to you than it does to him.”

Trent didn’t want to get into an argument with his brother, so he ignored that comment as he threw a handful of bills on the table. “Will I see you at Shelley’s later to finish up those shelves?”

Derek looked out the window at the blue sky. “It’s a good day to go windsurfing. But I’ll head over afterward.”

“Try not to get any more injuries,” Trent teased as he headed for the door. “Or maybe you should, since at least then you’d have an excuse to go see Didi again.” He hightailed it out of there before Derek could throw his beer mug at him.

At least there was one bright spot to being pulled away from lunch and called to the resort—the brightest, most beautiful woman in the world, who was looking cute as hell with colorful streaks of paint on her arms and clothing as she worked on the mural.

Trent always loved watching Reese paint and seeing just how intimate a process it was for her. Last night when he’d come into her studio, she’d been assessing her work, deep in thought. But now, as her lean arms dragged the paintbrush over the wall with long, smooth arcs over her head, then faster, shorter strokes, before transitioning into longer, slower strokes again, it was as if she wasn’t even thinking. She called it being in the zone. Which was exactly how he felt whenever they were together. Like nothing else existed in the world but her...and every move was meant to be.