“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.”