He choked down his unease and drove to the Drakes’, parking beside Isla’s new purchase—a Tuscadero Pink Wrangler with all the bells and whistles.
Isla had been hard at work customizing her Jeep as it now sported a ridiculously fluffy and fuzzy pink steering wheel wrap, pink-and-black skull and crossbones decals and wheels that earned a low whistle of admiration from him. Apparently nannying did indeed pay well. At least when you worked for a billionaire.
Which were becoming more prevalent in Carolina Cove, he thought darkly before trying once more to shrug off the bad mood.
Everett and Isabel Drake treated Isla well, watched over her as if she were a kid sister, even though from what Quinley had said, Everett was friends with Rhys Lachlan.
The moment the thought entered his brain, Elias faltered. Seeing Quinley today was one thing, but surely Lachlan wouldn’t be joining them. Would he?
“You gonna sit in there and brood all day or come join the party?”
Brooks appeared beside Elias’s open window, chewing on gum and looking far too smug.
“Heard Finn ripped you a new one. ‘Bout time one of us had the balls to do it. Did anything sink in?”
Elias glared at the second oldest Blackwell brother and gave his wife, Allie, credit for being a saint for putting up with him. “Move,” he ordered, “or better yet, don’t so I can hit you with the door.”
Brooks flashed a wide grin but stepped out of the way. Elias grabbed his phone and the gift bag and got out. He ignored Brooks’s question and his dogged steps behind him as they made their way past Isla’s aptly namedPinkalicious Pirate.He shook his head at the name. Isla and Alec had always been fascinated by Wilmington’s pirate history.
A landscaped path led to the massive door of the beach house that looked large enough to be a resort. Rumor—namely Isla—said the house had everything, including an indoor and outdoor pool with a lazy river, sauna, workout room and more. Yeah, his kid sister wasn’t hurting for job perks.
Elias felt Brooks eyeing him again like he was going to say something stupid and decided to combat the possibility with a question. “Why are you late?”
“Had a tow,” Brooks said. “People drive some crazy vehicles on the beach and think they can make it. Good for business but bad for being on time for family events.”
A housekeeper led them through the house to the huge backyard where party guests—mainly Brooks’s girls, a little boy safely ensconced in a water tube, and Isla obviously watching them closely—swam, while the others gathered around to watch from lounge chairs, in seating areas and at a dining area near an outdoor kitchen Elias couldn’t help but envy.
After placing his gift on a table with the others, Elias turned and recognized Logan Davenport and his wife, Zoey; the group of sixty-something older ladies that made up the island-infamous Boardwalk Babes; as well as Isabel. Everett Drake stood steps away from his wife, talking with Dawson and Michael Davenport, Logan’s brother.
Brooks greeted his wife and then returned and mentioned grabbing food. Elias reluctantly followed Brooks to the outdoor kitchen where a woman wearing a white catering smock with Gemma embroidered on her left shoulder stood smiling beside catering staff in black uniforms.
“Would you like me to fix you a plate?”
Brooks shot him a side-eye that stated he was in food heaven, and nodded.
“My pleasure. These are lamb shoulder blade chops with mint-gremolata butter. We also have charred corn, a vegetable medley and a rice pilaf.”
Yeah, this wasn’t a typical cookout, Elias mused silently as the woman filled Brooks’s plate to overflowing.
“And for you?” she asked Elias when she finished.
“I’m good. Thanks, though.”
“Gemma, this is the man I told you about,” Quinley said from behind him. “Elias Blackwell, Chef Gemma Davenport.”
“Oh, I hear we have something in common—and perhaps something important to discuss sometime today if there’s time,” the woman said, her smile growing wider as she held up a finger to wait. “But first…”
Elias focused on Gemma instead of Quinley and watched as Gemma walked to a warming tray and removed a covered dish, then carried it toward him. “My son has developed food allergies. The card atop shows all the ingredients, but from what Quinley said, this should be safe for you. I hope you enjoy it.”
Elias blinked, taken aback by the woman’s understanding expression. And Quinley?
He turned his head to find her watching him with a bit of a hurt look. One he’d put there by—behaving like the fool Finn declared him to be? Ignoring her now?
“I’m sure it’ll be great,” Elias said, uncomfortably aware of the way Brooks stared at him for getting special treatment.
“Quinley heard me say I wanted to fix my son a special plate and why,” Gemma continued, flicking a glance at Quinley as though she sensed the tension between them. “She mentioned you might like one as well. You’re welcome to try anything of course,” she said, waving a hand to the food made for the group as a whole.
Just when Elias was about to speak to Quinley, a man—Rhys Lachlan—walked up behind her with an ease and too much familiarity as he placed his hand at her back. Elias gritted his teeth.
