Chapter Three

 

Jen looked back at her sister. Needing a little moral support this morning, she’d called Kristen. Her sister hadn’t hesitated to come over. “What was I thinking?”

Jen tossed another bathing suit on her bed. She didn’t wait for Kristen to answer before continuing. “I should’ve suggested we go for a hike or a bike ride. Maybe a movie. Do you think it’s too late to call and reschedule?” Unless you were a fashion model, the beach was a terrible place for a date.

“I’m not letting you reschedule.” Kristen picked up the newest suit to land on the bed. “And you cannot wear this one.” She tossed the purple bathing suit back at Jen.

She caught it and then held it up to check for any holes or worn-out spots. She didn’t see any. In fact, she didn’t see anything wrong with it. The one-piece was her favorite color and the attached skirt covered the scar on her hip nicely. She’d worn it to the beach earlier in the summer. “Why not? I only bought it last year. It looks fine to me.”

Before answering, Kristen came over, grabbed it, and stuffed it back into the drawer under the pile of underwear. “Because it’s a granny suit.” She riffled through the drawer and pulled out the white bikini buried at the bottom. “This is what you should wear.” She held the swimsuit up.

Jen eyed the bikini. Her last boyfriend had bought it for a cruise they took together. She’d worn it then to make him happy, but she’d been uncomfortable every time. Now she only wore it if she was lying out alone in her fenced-in backyard and working on her tan. She grabbed the bikini and tossed it back in the drawer where it belonged. “Yeah, no way am I wearing that today.” She walked to her bed and grabbed the two tankinis from the pile. “How about one of these?”

“I still think the white one is the way to go, but go with the red one. It’s better than all the frumpy one-piece suits you have.”

She liked to swim and made a point to visit the gym at least twice a week to get in some laps. Modest one-piece bathing suits were ideal for that. “They’re not frumpy. They’re practical.”

“Whatever you say, as long as you leave them all buried at home today,” Kristen said.

Jen stuck her tongue out in her sister’s direction before carrying her clothes into the master bathroom. Most of the beaches she visited had changing facilities. Some even had shower stalls. She had no idea where Brett planned to go this morning, so just in case there was no place to change, she’d wear her suit under her clothes. The sundress she’d chosen dried quickly, so if she had to put it over a damp swimsuit later, it wouldn’t be a big deal.

“What else are you doing today?” Kristen’s voice carried through the closed door.

Excellent question. If Brett had other plans for them, he hadn’t shared them with her. She hadn’t asked in any of the numerous text messages they’d exchanged since their meeting earlier in the week either. Instead she’d avoided the topic of today’s outing altogether, because even thinking about it made the excited knot in her stomach grow exponentially.

“No clue.”

Through the door she heard the doorbell ring, followed by Bo’s bark. “Shoot, what time is it?” She’d left her watch on the nightstand.

“A few minutes before nine.”

Already? She’d known it was getting close, but she thought she had a little more time. “Can you get the door for me?”

“I’m on it.”

“Tell him I’ll be right down,” she said, although she wasn’t sure if Kristen heard.

In the past, she’d mentally roll her eyes when she saw women at the beach or pool wearing makeup. This morning she joined their ranks and applied both foundation and lip gloss. Half the fun of visiting the beach was swimming, and she intended on doing some today. Since she’d prefer to not resemble a raccoon at any point during the day, she skipped the mascara and eye shadow.

“Don’t ramble today,” she said to the reflection in the mirror. “And avoid staring at his lips.”

More than once she’d caught herself doing that very thing while he spoke. Considering the man had a gorgeous mouth, it was hard to keep from staring. The final time she’d done it in the parking garage, she’d almost kissed him. She’d stopped herself in the nick of time. Well, more or less stopped. Most would consider the peck on the cheek she’d given him a kiss, but at least it wasn’t the type of kiss she’d given him later in her dream. Kissing wasn’t all they’d done in her dream either. She couldn’t remember ever having such an erotic dream in her life. Just thinking about it now made her face warm.

She found Kristen and Brett in the living room chatting away like long-lost siblings. No matter the person or situation, Kristen could carry on a conversation with them. Since her sister worked in sales, it came in handy. Despite whatever conversation they were having, Brett stood when she entered the room.

“Sorry, I’m running a little behind this morning,” she said.

Unlike when he greeted her Tuesday night, this morning he gave her a brief hug and a brotherly kiss on the cheek, causing her heart to jerk wildly in her chest.

“I’m in no rush. Take your time,” he said.

Behind him, Kristen gave her a thumbs-up before petting Bo, who had jumped on the sofa near her.

“I’m all set.” She glanced back at her sister. “Bo’s leash is in the kitchen.” With no idea how late she’d be back, she’d asked Kristen to take the dog for the night.

Considering whom the man called family, she expected an Italian sports car worth more than her house to be in the driveway. Instead, a jet-black Corvette was parked behind her sister’s new minivan.

Before she could do it, Brett opened the passenger door. “If you give me your bag, I’ll throw it in the trunk with mine.”

“This car has a trunk?” Corvettes always caught her eye on the road and in parking lots. Although gorgeous vehicles, she assumed they didn’t provide their owners with much empty space.

He nodded and held out his hand. “It’s not big, but it’ll hold what we need today.”

Brett waited until she sat before he closed the door. In the side mirror she watched him walk to the back of the car. Tuesday night he’d worn khakis and a polo-style shirt. She thought he’d looked good then. Somehow today, dressed in cargo shorts that hugged his ass and a plain gray T-shirt, he looked even better. Images from her erotic dream surfaced and heat washed over her.

No, no, no. She squeezed her eyes closed. Carrying on a conversation would be impossible if she kept envisioning the man naked and making love to her.

Warmer air filled the car, and she opened her eyes as Brett got behind the wheel.

“Did that tree come down during the storm last weekend?” Brett turned the key and the powerful car roared to life.

Jen looked in the direction of where her new shed had been. Now the tall oak tree, which had come down during the storm with enough force to rip the roots from the ground, was on top of it.

“Yeah, but better my shed than the garage or house. I have a tree company coming this week to take care of it.” If the tree had landed on her garage, it would’ve damaged her new Mustang. She’d lusted after one for years, and after getting her promotion, she’d traded in her Mazda and bought one. She hated the monthly car payments but loved the car.

Brett shifted into reverse and backed into the street. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve brought my chainsaw today and taken care of it for you.”

She watched him shift into first gear, and itched to ask him for a chance to drive. Unlike a lot of people, she drove a standard. Dad had made sure he taught all his children how, and although her previous car had been an automatic, when she bought her new one, she’d made sure to get a standard. While shifting during rush traffic was a pain, she found driving a standard to be a lot more fun, especially on deserted side roads. And she knew driving this car would be an absolute blast.

She tore her eyes away from his hand as images from the recent dream he’d starred in resurfaced. “You own a chainsaw?” Dad owned every power tool imaginable, including a drill press, and even he didn’t own a chainsaw.

He nodded. “I didn’t lose any trees but a lot of large limbs came down during the storm. I bought one to take care of them. Spent a few hours Thursday cutting them up. I found it oddly satisfying, and now I’ve got some firewood for the winter.”

“Next time I’m in the need of tree work, I’ll call you.”

***

He didn’t own a home in Newport. As much as he loved the beach and the area, he saw no reason to purchase one anytime soon either, because many of his relatives already had houses there. Since they did, today he planned to take advantage of it. After his meeting with Carl Filmore, his new campaign manager, earlier this week, he’d driven to his brother’s house and picked up the key to Curt’s beach house. While Newport had more than its share of beautiful public beaches, Curt’s place had access to a private beach. His brother’s house also offered them many amenities a public beach wouldn’t, such as a fully stocked kitchen and a gas grill.

Brett passed the Tennis Hall of Fame and turned left. He’d visited the gated community were both his brother and his cousin’s houses were a handful of times. While it could be reached a few different ways, from what he remembered, this was the most direct route, even if it did mean driving through the heart of the city.

From the passenger seat, Jen finished telling him about the camping trip she’d gone on with her Girl Scout troop in July. So far on the ride down they’d covered a wide range of topics, including work, his new house, and her niece’s recent birthday party. Not once during the drive had they lapsed into an awkward silence, and Jen never dominated the conversation. More often than he’d care to admit, both situations arose when he took the time to date. It was just one of the reasons he didn’t do it often.

He shifted into first gear and turned right. Reaching the security gate, he punched in the code Curt had given him and waited for the gates to open, causing Jen to stop speaking midsentence.

“Did you decide to skip the beach today?” she asked.

“Nope.” He drove through the entrance and down the tree-lined street. The community consisted of six homes. Curt’s was the last one on the street.

“Maybe beaches look different in Virginia, but this looks like a private neighborhood, not a beach area.”

He passed by his cousin’s place. Derek and his wife spent most of their time at their house here, but they still owned an apartment in Providence as well. He’d called him yesterday but had only gotten Derek’s voice mail. “We’re going to my brother’s house. This community has access to its own private beach.”

Brett reached the last house and pulled into the driveway. “By coming here, we have some privacy and the use of my brother’s kitchen.” Unable to open the garage door from his car, he parked in the driveway. “Unless you object, I planned to grill us lunch. Later we can maybe go to the Red Parrot for a drink.”

“Or Pirate’s Cove for ice cream,” Jen said.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d visited Pirate’s Cove. Whenever he’d come to Newport in the summer as a kid, he’d visited the popular ice cream and mini golf facility with his brother and sister and cousins. He didn’t think he’d been there since high school.

“I haven’t thought of that place in years.” Brett opened his car door and walked around to the passenger side. When he got there, she’d already opened her door.

He held out his hand anyway. She hesitated for a second but then accepted it. “We went last summer when we brought Bella down to see the Tall Ships. It was the first time I’ve been in a few years. Personally, I think they have the best ice cream. I wish they sold it in stores,” Jen said. “Actually, maybe it’s better they don’t. I’d be eating it all the time.”

Brett opened the trunk and pulled out his bag first. Before he could grab Jen’s bag, she did it herself and slipped the straps over her shoulder. “I would’ve gotten it for you.” He might not play the role of a perfect gentleman every day, but he knew how it was done. Both Dad and his uncles had made sure of it.

“No need. I got it.”

He’d learned though their numerous communications that she was independent and preferred to do things for herself. Rather than risk annoying her this morning, he let the matter go and closed the trunk.

“Whatever you want to do while we’re down here is fine with me,” Brett said.

The inside of the house looked unchanged from his last visit, with one exception: the brown teddy bear lying on one of the blue-and-white-striped chairs. During their visit, Curt mentioned he’d brought his girlfriend and what turned out to be her niece down recently. He wasn’t a relationship guru, but after watching his younger brother interact with his girlfriend both at their cousin’s house and then again this week, he expected Curt to be making a trip to the altar soon. When he did, it would leave his cousin Alec and him as the only two unmarried Sherbrooke men. He didn’t know how, but most of the females in the family had somehow avoided it so far. Of the six Sherbrooke women, only two were married.

“There’s a bathroom off the hall.” Brett pulled open the blinds covering the glass doors. “The kitchen is through there.” He pointed over his shoulder before sliding the doors open and allowing in fresh ocean air.

“Now this is a view.” Rather than head for the bathroom, she came to stand alongside him. “Why doesn’t your brother live here all the time?”

As he watched the waves roll onto the beach, he wondered the same thing. “Because he’s an idiot.”

Jen nudged him in the side, the first contact she’d instigated so far today. “You’ve talked about your brother enough, so I know you don’t mean that.”

She spoke the truth. In the beginning, he hadn’t spoken much about his family. All too often people couldn’t look past his last name and who resided on his family tree. Eventually, it’d been natural to share such details though. And she’d shared plenty of personal information as well, even sometimes telling him about the men she dated. Although as far as he knew, she hadn’t been with anyone in a long time—at least, she hadn’t mentioned going out with anyone in roughly ten months.

“Curt likes renovating old homes. This spring he bought one up in New Hampshire. It’s maybe ten or fifteen minutes over the Massachusetts border.” Curt had finished up a few homes before, and each time he’d sold them afterward and moved on. Brett knew his brother wouldn’t be selling this one. “His girlfriend lives next door, so it’s more convenient for him to live up there than here.”

“Proximity does make relationships easier,” Jen said.

“Wouldn’t know, but I’ll take your word for it.” His longest relationship ever had lasted six months while he’d been stationed in Texas. It’d ended long before he’d been deployed.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to feel some sand between my toes. And I already have my bathing suit on.”

“Feel free to head down. I’ll be right out.”

Brett found her on a beach towel large enough for two full-grown men to use at once. He paused in his approach and watched her apply sunscreen to her right leg. She started at her ankle and moved her hands up, similar to the way he’d touched her in his dream. In his dream though, he hadn’t used hands. Instead he’d used his lips and tongue, moving up over her thigh and not stopping until he reached between her legs. Then he’d proceeded to pleasure her until she called out his name. He’d woken up hard and extremely uncomfortable Tuesday night. The dream had made a repeat performance last night.

He dropped the cooler he’d brought down before taking a seat. His eyes roamed across her bare legs. “Need any help?” He wasn’t above applying sunscreen if it meant getting his hands on her naked skin.

“Can you get my back?” She looked at him, but the sunglasses she’d slipped on hid her eyes from him. He understood why she’d put them on, but he’d prefer to see her eyes. Eyes told you a lot about what a person was thinking and feeling. With hers covered, he found himself at a disadvantage.

She held the sunscreen toward him. “I’ll return the favor,” she said.

Jen’s bathing suit top tied around her neck, leaving much of her back and shoulders bare. A dusting of freckles covered her shoulders, and he wondered if she had some anywhere else. The modest swimsuit covered more than it revealed, a definite downside as far as he was concerned.

His hands glided over silky skin, and he took his time covering her shoulders. Before she became suspicious or complained he was taking too long, he moved his attention to her back and then lower across her spine.

She sighed before turning around to look at him. Brett’s gazed focused on her lips. “Your turn.” She moved into a kneeling position and waited for him to turn.

In the parking garage, she’d moved before he could kiss her. With her lips locked in his sights again, he intended to reach his target this time.

He grazed her lips with his and planted his hands on either side of her waist. He kept the kiss undemanding until he felt her relax beneath his palms. Leaning into him, Jen slipped her arms over his shoulders. Changing the angle of his head, he moved his mouth over hers, devouring its softness. Before he could do it, she urged his lips apart and dipped her tongue inside his mouth, sending a wave of lust and desire through his body.

In his head, he ran through the best ways to get them both horizontal. The sudden bump to the head stopped him from executing any of them.

“What the…?” He pulled away and found a football near his feet. Glancing up, he scanned the area as a teenage girl jogged toward them. They’d had the beach to themselves when he came outside. The teen headed their way said the situation had changed.

“Sorry,” the girl said nervously when she reached them. “My stupid brother threw it over my head.” She pointed over her shoulder.

Brett looked past the girl toward the house next door. Another teenager, perhaps two or three years older than the girl, stood on the beach with a smirk on his face. Three others remained on the deck. Accidents happened, but the teenager’s expression said this hadn’t been an accident. He’d aimed for Brett’s head.

“Don’t worry about it.” Picking up the ball, he tossed it back to the girl. “Tell your brother to be more careful.”

“I will,” she promised before jogging away.

With others on the beach, any thoughts he had of taking things further went on hold. Later he’d probably be happy about that. The occasional one-night stand was fine, but he was ready for more in his life. Now that he was living in New England again, he intended to see if he could have it with Jen, because at some point in the past year, his feelings for her had changed from mere friendship to something else. Her response to his kiss suggested the same on her end.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Fine for the moment. But if you don’t get some sunscreen on my back soon, we’ll have a problem.” With a bunch of teenagers hanging around next door, they needed to keep their hands and lips to themselves as long as they were outside. Applying sunscreen to his body would give them an acceptable excuse to touch. He’d take what he could get for the immediate future.

***

The guy could grill. No matter how many times she tried, she couldn’t cook anything on a grill. It always came out one of two ways: burned past recognition, or black on the outside but raw on the inside. Despite having a practically brand-new gas grill in her backyard, she hadn’t cooked on it once all summer. Instead, either Dad or her brother-in-law used it when they came over for a cookout. In return, she handled all the sides and desserts. She might not be able to grill, but she loved baking. And she was darn good at it, if she did say so herself.

He’s an even better kisser. Jen watched him through the glass doors. She’d laughed when Kristen said Dan didn’t merely kiss her, but made love to her mouth. After this morning, she knew what her sister meant. She’d felt Brett’s kiss everywhere. If not for the teens on the beach with them, she would’ve tried for another. Unfortunately, the teens who had interrupted them hours ago had remained on the beach until after Brett finished grilling their steaks. And while the group was gone now, it was anyone’s guess when they or any other residents might return to enjoy the beach.

The glass door slid open, and Brett stepped out on the deck. Before he started cooking, he’d thrown on a T-shirt, much to her disapproval. Unfortunately, he still wore it now.

“Sorry about that.” He dropped into the padded deck chair next to her.

She’d had time to enjoy a gorgeous view and the sunshine. She had nothing to complain about. “Don’t worry about it. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it was Carl.”

She knew all his relatives’ names, or at least she thought she did. Carl didn’t sound familiar. “Carl? Another cousin?”

Brett reached across the space separating them and tucked the loose strand of hair dancing against her cheek behind her ear. “No. I thought I told you. I hired Carl Filmore to run my campaign. He called to let me know we have about half the signatures necessary to get me on the ballot for the upcoming primary.”

She didn’t know the exact number of signatures required. Considering they were talking about the United States Senate and not a state-level position, she guessed it was a lot. “Already?”

“Name recognition has its perks. Having an uncle who is also a popular president in the White House helps too.”

It was the first time he’d made any comment about how influential and well known his family was. “When we started exchanging letters, I assumed it was a coincidence your name was Brett Sherbrooke.”

“Really?” He sounded surprised by her admission.

She shrugged. “It’s not uncommon for people to share a name with someone famous. I had a classmate at Northeastern named Anderson Brady, and he was definitely not the actor.” She had been mildly disappointed when she finally met the man and learned he wasn’t the actor but rather a middle-aged man from Cambridge, Massachusetts.

“Yeah, but your brother knew who I was. Keith never said anything?”

“Nope. At least not to Kristen or me. I didn’t figure it out until you mentioned your cousin Trent’s wedding. I could accept you shared a name with someone in the Sherbrooke family. But having a cousin named Trent was too much of a coincidence.”

Brett frowned. Somehow even frowning he looked handsome. “Most people figure it out a lot sooner. It’s the one thing I’m not looking forward to now that I’m not on active duty.”

She’d spotted enough pictures of his cousins on various websites and magazine covers to know how much the media loved his family. People invading your privacy had to be annoying.

“Well, if you need a good bodyguard, I’m available,” she said, hoping to change his frown back into a smile. “My hand-to-hand combat skills are not quite as good as my forensic accounting skills, but I can hold my own in a fight. Dad and Keith made sure I could take care of myself.”

Her statement did the trick, and his frown vanished. “Having you around twenty-four seven is a tempting offer. But I’d rather have your attention on me, not on whatever media vulture might be lurking around.” He leaned across the space between them, his intent obvious.

When his lips touched hers, a shock wave went through her body. Closing her eyes, she lost herself in the kiss and the heat building up inside her. Who he was didn’t matter, only the fact she was here with him, and he seemed as interested in her as she was in him did. Parting her lips, she ran her tongue along his bottom lip, a silent message to open. He didn’t hesitate, and she immediately took control of their kiss. At least until Brett moved and his lips seared a path down her neck to her bare shoulder.

She sensed his hand going for the tie behind her neck. While her body said “go for it,” her mind screamed “put on the brakes.” Reaching up, she covered his hand with hers. Whether he’d intended to stop or not before she touched his hand, he placed a final kiss on her shoulder before touching his forehead to hers.

“It kills me to say this,” she said, a little out of breath. “Maybe we should go someplace public for a little while.” A place with a lot of people would keep her from tugging him to the nearest bed and having her way with the man.

Brett pulled back and kissed her forehead. “I could go for some ice cream.”

***

Located on Wellington Avenue, Pirate’s Cove was a popular destination for both tourists and locals. When he’d come as a kid, it had comprised of only the large eighteenth-century stone building before them and a small mini golf course. The complex in front of them now was something else entirely. While the stone building with the flashing neon Open sign remained, the tiny mini golf course was long gone. Now to the left of the building sat an enormous eighteen-hole mini golf course complete with a windmill and waterfall. From where they stood, he saw at least six batting cages behind the building, and off to the far right was a go-cart track.

“This place has changed,” Brett said. “I used to come here all the time, and it looked nothing like this.” He reached the door handle before Jen and pulled it open for her.

“Did you spend a lot of time down here when you were younger?”

They stepped inside and the smell of fresh-made waffle cones and hot fudge wafted around him. The scent conjured up long forgotten memories of walking over with his brother and cousins. “At least two weeks every summer, but usually more. We’d stay at Cliff House. At least all the kids would. The adults took turns supervising us. Aunt Elizabeth was always the strictest of the bunch. I love her, but we always had more fun when she wasn’t around. We never got away with anything when she was there. Aunt Marilyn, on the other hand, was a pushover.”

A memory he hadn’t thought of in a long time involving his Aunt Elizabeth popped up, and he laughed. It wasn’t the first time this week a long-forgotten memory involving his family surfaced. Each time one did, he realized how much he’d missed them the past few years. Sure he’d seen them from time to time, but he hadn’t been a real part of their lives. Instead he’d been like the distant relative who visited for family reunions and weddings.

“What’s so funny?” Jen asked.

“Thinking about one of the nights my brother refused to eat dinner. Aunt Elizabeth wouldn’t let him leave the table until he tried everything on his plate. Curt fell asleep sitting there and landed face-first in his food. I don’t think Curt ever refused again after that.”

“My mom had a similar rule. Thankfully, I usually liked what she cooked. My sister was always the picky one. My brother would eat anything not moving.” Jen joined the line at the counter. “So, what flavor are you going to order? Last time I came here, I had the banana bread. It was out of this world. My niece had the cherry explosion. She insisted I try some. I don’t usually love cherries, but it was good too.”

The board on the wall listed easily fifty different ice-cream flavors in addition to the ones Jen mentioned and several types of frozen yogurt. He didn’t need to read any of them. “Vanilla in a waffle cone.” When he got ice cream, he always ordered vanilla.

“Vanilla? Are you serious? That’s like the most boring flavor in the world,” Jen said.

“Boring is my cousin’s middle name,” a familiar voice said from behind them.

They both turned and faced the newest additions to the line, his cousin Derek and his wife, Brooklyn.

“It’s better than your middle name.” He ignored Derek for the moment and hugged Brooklyn instead. When he finished he said, “Jen, this is Brooklyn, my cousin’s wife.” It felt natural to put his arm around Jen as the two women exchanged greetings.

“If vanilla is so boring, what are you getting?” Brett asked without another glance in his cousin’s direction.

Derek responded more or less the way he expected. “I stand corrected. His middle names are boring and rude.” His cousin extended his hand toward Jen. “Derek, Brett’s polite and much more charming cousin.”

Jen’s mouth twisted as if she was trying not to either laugh or perhaps smile. “I don’t know, he’s pretty polite and charming when we’re together.”

Brooklyn nodded. “He’s always polite to me too. Derek, the problem must be you.”

The friendly banter continued as they waited to order and even after they found a covered picnic table outside to share. Growing up, he’d always given his cousins and siblings a hard time. And they’d always reciprocated. Until this afternoon, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it.

“I heard an ugly rumor. Something about you running for Senator Neil Brown’s seat in the upcoming special election,” Derek said, touching on a serious topic.

Great. Another person who found it hard to believe he might want to serve his country in a different way. He’d gotten a similar statement from his sister when he called her earlier in the week too. “If all goes as planned, I’ll be on the ballot. I hired Carl Filmore to run things for me. So far, so good.”

“You in DC?” Derek dropped his spoon in the ice-cream bowl. “I can’t see it. My brother, yeah, or even Sara. But not you.”

“Don’t listen to him.” Brooklyn glared at his cousin as she spoke. “I think you’d make a great senator. We need new faces and ideas on the Hill. If I can help, call me.”

“Filmore, huh? He knows what he’s doing. He worked on Beck’s campaign last year, and he helped with Uncle Warren’s first presidential campaign. Dad speculated he’d work on the upcoming one too.”

Brett hadn’t known either of those details. However, the information reinforced he’d made a good choice. Next to him, Jen shifted nervously. She hadn’t said much since they sat down. He’d thought it was because she was eating her ice cream, something called cookie crunch. He wasn’t sure what was in it, but it didn’t appear to be a flavor he’d enjoy. Glancing at her bowl now, he saw she hadn’t touched much of it. Evidently food had nothing to do with her silence. Perhaps a change in conversation was needed.

“Derek and Brooklyn work in Providence too,” he said. He looked at his cousin. “Jen works at Pattersen Financial.”

Derek took the cue to change subjects. “You’re just a few buildings down from us. We’re both at Hale and Associates.”