Page 12 of The Billionaire's Homecoming (The Sherbrookes of Newport)

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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.”