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Wasn’t that part of every relationship—at least the ones that lasted?
“Anyway, like I was saying before we started talking about Quinn,” Sierra said, as if she could tell that Shelley had grown slightly uncomfortable, “of all my brothers, Ethan’s probably the most easygoing. But I think that’s because he’s the youngest and none of us gave him much of a chance to chime in—we were all such loudmouths. Then again, maybe he just plays that card because women always go gaga for the strong and silent type.” Sierra laughed. “There I go, spilling more family tales. You need to act bitchy or something so I stop talking.”
“I don’t think I’m very good at being bitchy. But chatty? I could do that all day long. All night, too.” Although, she didn’t want to take up too much of Sierra’s time, so she said, “When I met your mom at Annabelle’s, she said that you thought an organic coffee shop would do really well here. Do you agree?”
“Oh my goodness, yes! Starbucks tried to come onto the island, but our civic association nixed that. We’re really into keeping things local. Otherwise Rockwell Island might become nothing more than an extension of any big city out there.”
“I know what you mean. I don’t shop at trendy stores, and those restaurants that everyone fights to get in?” Shelley shook her head. “Not me. I’m more about the experience than the notability. I’m proud of sourcing great coffee beans and local bakers for my café, but I think the real reason people come back is because I love getting to know them—talking with them about their lives, their jobs, families.”
“That’s part of the fun of owning a restaurant for me, too,” Sierra said with a smile. “I know when kids are graduating from school, when their plays are. I find out when people get sick and I bring them homemade soups and meals.”
Without missing a beat, Sierra leaned forward again to say, “Please tell me you’re actually thinking of bringing your café here. And not just because I’m always craving a good cup of coffee, but because I think it would be so much fun to have you in town.”
Shelley hadn’t been one hundred percent certain before talking to Quinn’s sister, but everything just felt so right about being here. It didn’t hurt that she also felt like she’d just found a new best friend.
“I like to follow my instincts, and something tells me that this would be a good place for me. The right place. A place I can see myself settling in and putting down roots. I’ve never really had that. I mean, I love where I live now, but I want to find my forever home. A place that my grandchildren will visit and think, our crazy grandma just up and moved here on a whim—and it was the best decision she ever made in her life.”
Sierra lifted her glass of iced tea in a toast. “Here’s to making great decisions about life, work, and especially love.”
And as Shelley clinked her glass against her new friend’s, she knew she’d already made one good decision at least—coming to Rockwell Island for her solo honeymoon had been one of the best things she’d ever done.
QUINN SPENT THE afternoon working through the documents for Rich and finally sent them off five minutes before the alarm that he’d set went off. He wasn’t about to take a chance of being late for his date with Shelley.
He walked at a fast clip across the marble floors of the spacious lobby. The resort had been redesigned twice that Quinn could remember. The first time his grandfather had gone all-out, with crystal chandeliers and dark marble floors throughout, but the resort had looked more like it belonged in Las Vegas than on the island. Thankfully, his grandmother had finally talked some sense into Chandler. How she got through to the man, no one knew, but within two years of that pricey renovation, he’d had it renovated again, using light-colored marble, stone procured from the island, and replaced many of the crystal chandeliers with iron ones boasting faux candles to give the fancy resort more of an intimate island feel. Dark sofas and settees were replaced with warmer-toned, comfortable furniture.
Thoughts of taking over the resort nagged at the back of Quinn’s mind. He didn’t want to think about that demon looming over him right now, but as he made his way toward the restaurant, greeting the employees as he went, a part of him couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to actually do it. To be in charge of the layout, the offerings, and the success of the family business. Surprisingly, he found it wasn’t a terrible thought.
The chef had everything laid out in a corner of the huge kitchen for Quinn as he’d requested. Quinn knew he wasn’t the best cook, but he wanted to make the effort for Shelley. He wasn’t the type of guy to order dinner out seven nights a week, and the sooner he started proving to Shelley that he wasn’t like her parents, the better. If he’d been home, he would have asked her to join him for a glass of wine while he cooked, but with the restaurant working at full speed tonight, he knew that trying to converse with Shelley while working around the chefs would be more chaos than pleasure.
