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Once referred to as Prince Charming by the media, she’d been seeing pictures of Jake Sherbrooke, the president’s son, since she was a teenager. “Yep. He looks a little familiar.”
Curt laughed. “Can’t imagine why.”
“And I’m guessing the redhead with him is his wife.”
“Correct, Agent Walker. And the baby trying to wiggle down from Charlie’s lap is their son, Garret.”
“Since he’s the president’s son, shouldn’t there be Secret Service agents lurking around? Last time I checked, the president’s children got secret service protection while he was in office no matter how old they are.”
“Who’s the president’s son?” Reese asked, letting Taylor know she was paying attention even if she didn’t appear to be.
“My cousin Jake.” Curt answered Reese first. “And he declined the protection right after Uncle Warren took office. Found it too intrusive.”
“I’m not sure I’d do that, but okay.” Put in a similar situation she’d probably opt for the protection, even if it meant someone looking over her shoulder all the time. “What about the ones at the table with the umbrella?”
“The man with the gray hair is Trent’s father-in-law, Sal. Next to him is Trent’s mother-in-law, Marta. Uncle Mark is sitting across from them.”
“Got it.”
“I saw Gray’s car. He and Kiera must be down on the beach. Alec, too, because we parked next to his car.”
“And who’s the guy walking up from the beach now?” While handsome and around the same age as Curt’s cousins, he didn’t look anything like a Sherbrooke. Actually, he resembled the guy Curt called Rock quite a bit.
“Must be one of Addie’s brothers. She has four. I’ve only met two, Rock and Jon. He’s either Tom or Frank.”
She stored all the names and faces away. “Besides your parents, are a lot more people coming?”
“Beats me.” He shrugged and opened the door. “Ready to formally meet the fam?”
Ready as I’ll ever be.
Taylor’s apprehension lasted for all of ten seconds after stepping out onto the deck. Immediately, Trent and Addie came over to welcome them. He proceeded to introduce her and Reese to everyone gathered on the deck before asking if they wanted anything.
“I thought you’d be here earlier. Did you drive down from New Hampshire this morning?” Trent asked when he came back with a bottle of juice for Reese and flavored water for both his wife and Taylor.
“We came down yesterday and spent the night at my house.” Curt sat in a chair near his cousin Jake while Taylor sat next to him, Reese taking a spot on her lap.
“I had trouble getting someone out of the water this morning,” Taylor added, twisting open her water after she helped Reese open her juice.
After breakfast, Reese had begged to go for a swim in the ocean. Taylor found the water a little chilly, but it hadn’t bothered Curt or Reese.
“Did he throw one of his legendry temper tantrums?” Jake asked.
She caught the mischievous glint in Jake’s eyes—eyes that were identical in color to Curt’s—and she knew some embarrassing story must be on the way.
“We used to spend at least two weeks at Cliff House each summer. Every night before bed we were supposed to shower. Get all the sunscreen and stuff off. Curt would pitch a fit. Throw himself on the floor, roll around, and kick. He hated showers and baths.”
If looks could kill, Jake would be dead. “Old age is causing you to be confused.”
She didn’t know Jake’s exact age, but he didn’t look much older than Curt.
“It was Alec who did that every night,” Curt said.
Jake reached down and picked up his son, who decided he wanted someone’s lap to sit in again. “Are you sure?”
“He’s right. It was my brother who hated showers,” Trent said, joining the conversation. “Curt threw tantrums when your mother made us eat whatever Henri prepared for dinner.”
Jake snapped his fingers and nodded. “That’s right. If Mom was there she’d make him sit at the table, even after we all finished and left, until he at least tasted what was on his plate. He fell asleep sitting there at least once.”
