A long night with little sleep and a lot of heavy thinking had only reinforced his decision--if by some miracle she was willing to give him a second chance, he'd do whatever it took to make it up to her.
Quinn had never needed anyone to make him feel complete. Now, not only did he want Shelley in his life, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed her there, too. And maybe, if he were really lucky, she would realize she needed him, too. Not just because they didn't have a prayer of controlling their attraction to one another, but also because after seeing how much she enjoyed clamming yesterday, he knew she'd enjoy the rest of the unique things the island had to offer: midnight sails, walks in the woods, fishing, the lighthouse--all the things he hadn't even thought of in forever, and only a few of the things he'd let himself give up in order to achieve his success.
After going for a hard and fast run to try to burn through some of his frustration, Quinn showered and dressed, then headed back out to go by Shelley's again, nearly plowing into Trent in the hallway.
"Did you get my message?" Trent wore a pair of trousers and a dress shirt again, which meant he must be planning on going back to New York today.
"No. I didn't check my phone after my run."
"We have a meeting with Grandfather in less than ten minutes. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can all get back to our lives."
Quinn shot a look at the door at the end of the hallway, which led outside. Damn it. There was no way he'd make it down to Shelley's again and be back in time.
"What's wrong?" Trent asked.
Quinn didn't like lying to his siblings. So instead of saying, Nothing, he opted not to answer the question. "Let's go."
SHELLEY WAS DETERMINED to have a good time on the rest of her trip despite having her feelings hurt by Quinn last night.
Deciding to greet the morning with a walk along the beach, she slipped on a pair of cute flip-flops and pulled the front door of her cottage open. The woody, ashen scent of her solo bonfire lingered in the air. Renewed disappointment settled around her, threatening her intent to have a great day despite the fact that this was supposed to be a solo honeymoon anyway. At least until she looked down and realized she'd almost stepped on a handful of pretty flowers lying on the welcome mat.
She crouched beside them, trapping her lower lip between her teeth.
Quinn.
Picking up the bouquet, she saw that the flowers had wilted a little around the edges and their stems were bone dry. Her heart beat a little harder knowing he must have come by last night after she'd gone to bed, after all.
She stared at the flowers for a long moment before deciding to put them in a vase and set it in the bay window beside the champagne bottle with the candle in it as she tried to push past the conflicting emotions stirring inside her.
When she finally headed out for her walk to explore the area in the opposite direction of the resort, she was still mulling everything over.
All night long she'd told herself to nix the idea of Quinn Rockwell. So what if he kissed like a dream? So what if she couldn't stop imagining what his kisses--and his big, strong hands--would feel like roving over her naked skin? She'd tried to convince herself that she'd eventually get over the need that continued to torture her. But now this bouquet had her wondering yet again--was the lighthearted, fun-loving guy she'd spent the afternoon with really all about business? Or did he just need a little reminding about how much beauty and adventure there was outside of the boardroom to reclaim that part of himself? And a lesson in manners, too?
And even if he did, was she up for taking that kind of a risk on him...especially if he really did only want a fling?
Shelley heaved out a huge breath, feeling like she was getting way ahead of herself. After all, while the flowers were lovely, they weren't an apology. And while finding them waiting for her this morning did help assuage a little of her hurt, the way Quinn had behaved last night still stung. Stung a lot, actually.
She passed a couple on the beach in front of the resort and then a family with two small children busy filling buckets with sand. Walking down the sandy beach made her think of her aunt and the mornings they'd spent searching for sea glass. What would her aunt Marla make of Quinn? Shelley wondered.
Just then a For Rent sign at the top of the dunes caught her attention. She shielded her eyes from the sun, and the cute cottage at the top of the hill called to her. She'd received a text from Sierra, and they'd made plans to meet later that afternoon to discuss the possibility of bringing a specialty cafe to the island.
Shelley had been toying with ideas ever since. There was nothing tying her to Maryland. She loved her house on the creek, but wouldn't she enjoy living on the island even more? She could even keep the creek house as a getaway if she wanted to. Plus, Taryn lived in Philadelphia, so either way she had to travel to see her closest friend, and wouldn't Taryn love visiting her here?
Gus had loved the cafe and what it stood for--friendships made on a daily basis and doing something he enjoyed--and she was positive he would have understood moving it to someplace as heavenly as Rockwell Island.
Why not work where she could wake up and see the beautiful bay every morning? There was plenty of residential and tourist traffic; she'd seen that for herself. Surely she could sustain a business here as easily as she did in Maryland, or maybe even more so with the resort nearby.
A little out of breath from climbing the dune, she looked around the yard of the cottage. With a little love, the untended gardens could be gorgeous. The house was a typical, moderate-sized Cape-style cottage with dormers out front and a two-story deck out back. She peered in the French doors off the deck, getting more excited by the second. Hardwood floors met white walls and stained wood trim. Furniture was draped beneath tarps, and based on the dust on the windows, she guessed the house hadn't been lived in for at least a few seasons.
She could so easily see herself having coffee right here in the mornings. Taking strolls on the beach, maybe inviting Sierra over for a girls' night. Shelley craved a girlfriend who would enjoy sharing a fruity drink and sitting outside talking about frivolous things, or watching a chick flick and eating pizza in sweatpants and tank tops. Heck, since Taryn was self-employed, maybe she could convince her to move here, too.
Okay, Shelley, now you're just getting ahead of yourself again.
Of course, she usually liked getting ahead of herself. Still, she was prudent enough to force herself to also go over the cons of moving her business to the island. Her parents would loathe this idea, but then again, didn't they loathe nearly all of her ideas? And yes, she'd be starting all over with making a name for herself in a new area, but to Shelley that was part of the adventure. She would also have to hire new staff and find local suppliers. But, again, meeting new people was hardly an inconvenience.
She looked inside the windows of the empty cottage again, and for a few moments she couldn't stop herself from imagining sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace with Quinn. He'd be looking over documents, but when he saw her smiling at him, he wouldn't be able to resist tossing his work aside, picking her up with a sexy growl, and carrying her into the bedr--
Yeah, right. She forced herself to cut her way-too-clear vision off at the pass. He couldn't even look at me when he was on the phone.
She glanced at the bay and then into the house again, deliberately envisioning herself alone on the couch this time. Thankfully, it was just as easy for her to see that picture, and to also visualize padding along the hardwood in her bare feet, a breeze blowing through pretty sheers while she did a puzzle or came up with a new coffee flavor.
She'd never needed a man in her life. Why should now be any different?
But as she walked back down the dune to head back to the marina for the sailing class she'd signed up for yesterday, she tried to ignore the fact that on both the night they'd met and yesterday afternoon out on the beach, Quinn had made everything feel different.
Especially her heart.
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ETHAN AND DEREK were leaning against the wall outside Chandler's office talking, while Sierra paced nearby. She wore a fitted cream skirt and a peach blouse, and her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. She'd obviously dressed primly in an effort to please their grandfather, because Sierra was an island girl through and through and outside of her restaurant could usually be found wearing flowing skirts and beachy clothes. Even Ethan was wearing jeans and a button-down shirt, which was a step up from his normal fishing gear.
"Who do we want to do the talking?" Derek asked. "I'd be more than happy to give Chandler a piece of my mind."
Quinn practically laughed out loud at that suggestion. "Anyone but you." Derek would be too much of a hothead. And since Ethan saw his grandfather on a weekly basis, after this mess was worked out, he'd still have to see his grandfather every week, while the others could go back to their regular lives off-island, at least part-time. Sierra wasn't even a consideration in talking with the old man, unfortunately, simply because Chandler didn't have nearly enough respect for women. And Quinn knew he was too sidetracked by getting over to see Shelley to think straight.
"I'll do it," Sierra said.
All four brothers shook their heads. "No," they said in unison. Sierra was definitely strong enough to handle going head-to-head with their grandfather on an issue of this magnitude, but the four of them had always protected her at all costs. There was no need for her to take the heat when they were around.
"Why not? I spend the most time with him other than Dad."
"He also excluded you, Sierra," Trent said. "This could get ugly. We don't want to get you in the middle of this mess."
"I can handle him." She settled her hand on her hip and glared at them.
Quinn could imagine Shelley being just as confident and determined as his sister. He draped an arm over her shoulder, hoping to smooth things over.
"Chandler is no match for you, and we all know that," Quinn said. "But you and Ethan have to live near him long after we leave the island. Let us take the hit."
She frowned but said, "Okay, but if I feel like I need to step in, I'm not going to stay quiet in the background."
"My vote is for Trent to do the talking," Quinn suggested, knowing that his brother was the most even-tempered of them all.
With everyone in full agreement, they headed into Chandler's office.
Their grandfather was waiting for them behind his massive wooden desk. Didi stood by his side, professional as ever, with a friendly smile on her lips.
The five of them stood in front of his desk, with their hands at their sides, except Sierra, whose hands fell rebelliously to her hips. They held their heads high, shoulders back, presenting a united front against a one-person firing squad in a wheelchair.
"Good morning, Grandfather," Trent said. "You look well rested."
Chandler's white shirt was perfectly pressed, his tie tightly knotted. Quinn had very few memories of his grandfather wearing anything other than dress clothes, and pristine, expensive ones at that. His hands were folded across his lap, and Quinn wondered how he felt about being in the wheelchair. He had such a commanding presence, whether he was standing or sitting made no difference, but he was a controlling man. Having to rely on anyone, much less a nurse to take his blood pressure and administer medications, had to rub him the wrong way.
Their grandfather nodded, eyeing Sierra curiously, clearly wondering why she was there. "I'm fine."
Trent wasted no time getting to the heart of their decision. "We've read your mandate, and we believe we can come to an amicable agreement as long as you agree to our revisions of the terms."
Chandler's dark brows drew together. "Revisions? Have you done your due diligence already? Looked over the financials, the strategic plans for the resort?"
He was unbelievable, to demand they move here and take over the resort and then question their ability to make their own decision--and Quinn couldn't hold his tongue. "Our reasons for accepting have nothing to do with money. We're not going to stand by while you ruin the lives of hundreds of families that have devoted themselves to this resort and to this island."
Trent cleared his throat, and Quinn belatedly tethered his anger. Chandler's face remained unaffected by Quinn's outburst.
"Would you like to know our terms?" Trent asked.
Their grandfather raised an imperious eyebrow. "Proceed."
"If you want us to run this resort, first and foremost it belongs to all of us. All five, Sierra included. You will not have any say in the direction of the property or the decisions we make about any department or any aspect of the resort. We have final say for one year. You may not give commentary or provide any input, and furthermore, you may not interfere or undermine our authority with suppliers, employees, family members of employees, or guests."
Chandler shifted in his wheelchair. "You expect me to hand over all facets of the resort without a fight?" His tone was gruff.
"Only if you want us to agree to run the resort. The choice is yours." Trent spoke with confidence. "One year. All five of us or none at all. And you're completely hands-off."
Chandler's unyielding eyes swept over each of his grandchildren. His face was as stern as it had been for the last thirty years. "And you will all live on the island at least ninety-five percent of the time?"
Quinn and Derek exchanged an irritated glance. Quinn didn't believe for a second that he would actually need to live on the island full-time to help run the resort for the next year, and he knew Derek definitely didn't. He was fairly certain Trent wouldn't want to stay here either, given the way he carefully avoided Reese whenever he was visiting. Although Trent kept his feelings so close to his chest when it came to his ex-wife that it was anybody's guess what was going on in his mind.
"Ninety-five percent of the time, with the exception of family-related emergencies or other unforeseen circumstances related to our own businesses. For example, if someone has to go to the hospital off the island."
"I will take this under consideration and get back to you by the end of next week," Chandler said.
"Next week?" Derek snapped. "I have a--"
Trent glared at Derek, then returned an even stare to their grandfather. "Our offer is valid for forty-eight hours. Not a second longer." He turned to his siblings, giving them the nod that they were through. "Good day, Grandfather."
They filed out of his office, Derek and Quinn with clenched fists, and stalked toward the elevators.
Ethan placed a hand on Trent's shoulder. "Well played."
"He'll never agree to back out of having any decision-making power," Derek said. "You know he'll come back with another asinine demand."
"I don't think so." Sierra pulled the clips from her hair and shook her bun free. "I think he wants all of you here on the island for some reason. I have no idea why, but knowing him, it's just another warped form of trying to take control."
The elevator doors opened and Jane Moore stepped out. Jane was the entertainment director for the hotel. Her long blond hair was pinned up, and a pencil was tucked over her ear. She carried a clipboard close to her chest. Her white blouse and black pencil skirt made her look a little like a waitress. She was in her midtwenties and had worked part-time at the resort in various positions during high school and full-time since graduating from college.
"Bad mood or good mood?" She nodded toward Chandler's office.
"Is he ever in a good mood?" Derek grumbled.
Jane grimaced. "Our sailing instructor has the flu, and the backup was called off the island for a family emergency. I need Mr. Rockwell's okay on who to pull in for this, because we're really short-staffed this week."
"I'll do it," Quinn said, surprising everyone.
He still had a ton of work to do, but he was too wound up to work effectively right now. Sailing was exactly what he needed to clear his head of his grandfather's demands--and his frustration over the fact that he still hadn't had a chance to see Shelley again this morning and apologize to
her for being such a jerk the night before. He was planning to run down to her cottage again now, but he knew the odds were low that she'd be there when another spontaneous island adventure likely waited. And the longer it took for him to let her know how deeply sorry he was, the worse chance there was that she'd ever forgive him for it.
"You're a lifesaver," Jane said, relief written all over her face. "You'll need to use the second line boat, because one of the guests has already taken out the boat that's usually used for the course. I also hear the rigging is a bit messy." She checked her watch. "The class starts in an hour, so you should have plenty of time to get it under control."
"I'll be down at the dock in time for the class."
With that, he turned to head back to his grandfather's office, but Trent grabbed his arm.
"You're not going back in there, are you?"
Quinn looked his brother in the eye. "Whatever Chandler is up to, he's handling us in the worst possible way by getting all of our backs up. Especially when not one of us would ever let the family down. Someone needs to set him straight and remind him of that fact."
With a nod, Trent let his arm go. "Just try to keep your cool, okay?"
Instead of barreling back into his grandfather's office, Quinn decided to take Trent's sage advice and cool down first. As a successful businessman, he knew anger was like cancer--it spread and did nothing to diffuse a situation, only made it more rotten.
Quinn was drawing in a deep breath and unclenching his hands when Didi's voice came into focus.
"Your grandchildren take after you, Mr. Rockwell."
Quinn shook his head. The poor woman didn't have a clue that opening her mouth about them to the old man was the kiss of death.
"I didn't hire you to talk or evaluate my family," he heard his grandfather reply. "I hired you to heal me so I can get back to work and run this resort."
As if Chandler hadn't said a word, Didi continued. "They're just as tough as you are. Just as determined."