Читать книгу The Mighty Quinns: Dermot-Dex - Kate Hoffmann - Страница 13

“ARE YOU GOING TO tell me where we’re going?” Dermot asked as he slid behind the wheel of the pickup.

“We’re going on a field trip,” Rachel said.

They’d finished the milking for the morning and Rachel had ordered him out of his barn clothes and into something “decent.” At first Dermot had assumed they were going into town for breakfast, but she’d fed him at the kitchen table, perching on a chair and staring at him until he finished.

“I always hated field trips in school. We never went anywhere interesting.”

“What would you consider interesting?”

“The zoo? Maybe a natural history museum? Even a decent library.”

“Then you’re probably not going to like this.” She pointed to the ignition. “Start the truck. We’re heading west.”

Dermot drove the pickup out of the driveway and headed away from Mapleton. “So, what am I going to learn today? It’s not a field trip unless I learn something.”

She sighed in frustration. “You’re going to learn to be patient and enjoy the ride.”

He chuckled softly. “I already know how to do that. I do that every night with you.”

“Funny,” she said. “And this comes because all you think about is sex. This is about business. I have to go sign a new contract with Briar Hollow Cheese. We sell our milk to them. You’ll get a chance to taste some of their cheese.”

“Cool,” he said. “I knew I’d get it out of you.”

“They make chèvre, which is traditional goat cheese. And also feta and bouchon, which is like parmesan cheese. We’ll bring some home and I’ll make something with it tonight. And I want to send some home with you, too. So you have something to remember us by.”

“I don’t need cheese to remember you,” he said. “I’ve got a lot of other things I’ll remember.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Oh, let me see. I’ll remember how your hair smells in the morning when I wake up and you’ve stolen my pillow. And I’ll remember the sound of your laugh when you’re watching the kids scamper around their pen. I’ll remember sitting across from you in the evening and sharing supper together.” He paused. “I’ll even remember this.”

Rachel slid over and sat next to him, dropping a kiss on his cheek. “Good. I’m happy to hear that.”

The drive to the cheese factory was passed with lighthearted chatter. Now that they’d actually decided not to think about the future, it took some of the pressure off them both. Dermot was happy, but he could see that there were moments where Rachel wasn’t so enthusiastic. Something he said or did would put her in a dark mood for a short time and he’d have to tease her out of it. He felt like he was rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.

Briar Hollow was a small operation, set close to the road in a rural area. Dermot pulled into the parking lot and then hopped out and circled around the truck. He opened the door for Rachel and grabbed her around the waist, setting her on the ground.

“You’ll like Ben,” she said. “He’s a real artisan. Every year, he goes to France for a few weeks and studies cheese making with a master. His cheeses are used in a lot of the best restaurants in Chicago.”

A bell above the door rang as they entered. Rachel introduced him to Ben’s daughter, Ellen, who stood behind the counter. “This is my friend Dermot Quinn. He’s been working at the farm, but he’s leaving in a couple weeks. I wanted to send some cheese home to Seattle with him.”

Ellen regarded him with a curious look, then held out her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Dermot. You two just take whatever you want from the cases. I’ll get you a box.”

“Ben called me. I’m here to sign another contract,” Rachel added.

Ellen handed her a box. “I’ll tell Ben you’re here.”

They walked around the shop and Rachel fed Dermot little samples from glass-covered dishes. When Ben walked into the shop, she introduced the men and they all sat down together. “Dermot’s learning a little more about the dairy,” Rachel explained.

“Good,” Ben said. “Well, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Something very important.”

“What is it?” Rachel asked, worried at the serious tone in his voice.

“We just took on a new wholesaler. They’re going to give us a national brand so we need more from each of our dairies. Over the next year, we’d like to see you double your production.” Rachel gasped and he held up his hand. “Now, I know your situation. But this would increase your profit margins, which might make it possible for you to hire the help you need.”

Dermot looked at the stricken expression on Rachel’s face. “I—I don’t think I can do it, Ben,” she said. “I’d love to help you out, but there just aren’t enough hours in the day.”

Dermot cleared his throat. “Wait a second. Rachel, we can figure out a—”

Rachel quickly stood. “Can I have some time to think about this?”

“Sure,” Ben said. “Here’s the contract. And you know we’ll buy whatever milk Clover Meadow produces. You’re one of our best dairies. We’ll just be paying more to those dairies that produce more for us. Heck, my daughter, Ellen, and her husband are even thinking about getting into the dairy business. And we’ll be adding to our operation. Another five thousand square feet.”

“Great,” Rachel said.

She quickly walked out to the parking lot, forgetting the box of cheese that they’d collected. When she reached the truck, her face was pale and she was gasping for breath. Dermot bent her over at the waist, lowering her head. “Breathe,” he ordered.

“I—I can’t. I’ve been trying to think of a way to milk fewer goats, not more. I can’t do this. I never wanted to be a goat farmer. Why did my father do this to me?”

When she looked up, her eyes were full of tears. “My life is all laid out for me. I’m never going to get off the farm. I’m going to be milking goats for the rest of my life.”

Dermot dragged her into his arms and held her tight. “I’m sure he never wanted you to be unhappy, sweetheart. You know that. Maybe he just wanted to make sure his animals would live out their lives on your farm.”

She sniffled and looked up at him through watery eyes. “You think?”

“I think,” Dermot reassured her. “If you can find someone to buy the farm who wants to keep the goats, then I think maybe your father would be happy. Remember what Ben said?” he continued. “Ellen and her husband have been looking around for a farm of their own. They want to start a goat dairy. Why don’t you let them know that you might consider selling?”

She thought about his suggestion. “My brothers and sister would certainly be happy. And I know Ellen and Kyle. I’ve met their two children. They’re definitely goat people.” She paused. “We’d have to make arrangements for Eddie. He’s not going to want to leave the farm. He’s lived there his entire life.”

“I’m sure you could work something out,” he said. “Now, we forgot our cheese inside. I think we should go back and talk to Ellen about your farm. You don’t have to decide right now, but you could let her know it might be an option.”

“I really haven’t thought seriously about selling,” she said. “I made a promise to myself that I’d stay at least a year before I made any decisions.”

“And how long have you been running the farm?” he asked.

“Almost a year?”

“There you go.” He tipped her face up and wiped the tears away with his fingertips. “Come on, let’s go back inside and see what she has to say.”

But now that the idea had found a place in her mind, Dermot began to question his reasons for suggesting it. Was he really interested in her happiness or were his motives purely selfish? If she didn’t have the farm, then she was free to move wherever she wanted—to Seattle, perhaps?

He wasn’t going to deny that he’d spent some time imagining what life would be like living in his house instead of hers. As much as he loved the farm and the animals, he was starting to realize how much his grandfather’s business meant to him. Maybe it was in his genes. The Quinn family had been on the water for generations, first as fishermen in Bantry Bay and now as boat builders. Like Rachel, he had family traditions to uphold.

Dermot opened the door for Rachel. When they got back inside, he pressed his hand to the small of her back, hoping to calm her emotions with his touch.

“You’re back!” Ellen said. “You forgot your cheese.”

“I know,” Rachel said. “I wanted to talk to you before I left. Ben mentioned that you and Kyle might be looking for a farm, a place to raise goats.”

Ellen nodded. “We’ve been looking. It’s been difficult. We’ve seen a few places but they haven’t been… perfect. It’s a huge risk and an even bigger investment. My father has agreed to help, but we plan to spend the rest of our lives on the place, so it has to be just right.” She laughed. “Like Clover Meadow.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. Because I’ve been thinking about selling.”

Ellen gasped, her eyes opening wide. “Oh, my gosh. Really?”

Rachel nodded. “I’m still weighing all my options, but… well, don’t buy a place until you’ve talked to me first. Could you do that?”

“Yes, yes. Of course.”

“And don’t tell Ben. Let’s keep this between us. You, me and Kyle?”

“Sure. I know how the gossip gets around. I promise to keep this strictly confidential.”

“Good,” Rachel said. She grabbed the box. “Thank you, Ellen. And I guess we’ll be talking in the future.”

Ellen smiled. “I sure hope so.”

When they got outside, Dermot slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Are you all right?”

Rachel nodded. “I feel… relieved. Like a weight has been lifted. I suddenly have options.”

“Options,” he said.

“I think we should go out for lunch. My treat. There’s a great drive-in in Elkhorn. They have the best cheese curds,” she added.

“I am beginning to love cheese,” Dermot teased, grabbing the box from her arms. “Bring it on.”

Rachel leaned in and stole a kiss. “Come on, then. I’m hungry.”

As they drove down the country road, Dermot turned up the radio and sang along with a love song. The windows were open and the warm breeze buffeted through the truck. It was another perfect day, he thought to himself. There wouldn’t be many of them left. But now he had even more reason to hope that he might not have to count the days. Rachel might be his forever.

THE FEDEX TRUCK RUMBLED into the yard at exactly 10:00 a.m. Dermot and Rachel were walking back from the barn, Benny trailing after them. Rachel shaded her eyes against the morning sun. “I wonder what this is about.”

No doubt another missive from her siblings’ lawyers. The last time they’d sent registered mail. Now they were assaulting her with overnight packages. She thought they might finally give up now that Jane wanted to send her two sons to live at Clover Meadow. The balance of power had definitely shifted.

The driver hopped out of the truck and circled around to meet her in the middle of the drive. “Rachel Howe?” he asked.

“That’s me,” she said. She signed for the envelope, then took it from his hands. But it wasn’t from a lawyer. “This is odd,” she said to Dermot, staring at the bill of lading.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s from some kind of literary agency. Lynn Barrett Literary Agency in New York. Have you written a book that I don’t know about?”

“No. I never kiss and tell. What about you?”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have the words to describe it all.”

“Hmm. Maybe you should give it a try. Talk dirty to me and all kinds of interesting things might happen.” He growled softly, then pulled her into his arms.

Rachel slipped out of his grasp. “You are going to have to learn to behave yourself, Mr. Quinn. If Jane is sending her boys here, we can’t have them corrupted by your out-of-control libido.”

“I’ll have you know, my libido was well under control until I met you.”

Rachel opened the envelope and reached inside to pull out a smaller one. Inside was a letter and she skimmed it as they walked to the porch. “Oh, my God,” she said, sitting down on the step. “They want to know if I’d be interested in illustrating a children’s book.” Rachel reread the letter. “Remember I told you about that publisher I talked to at the convention? She passed my card on to one of her authors. She’s asking if I have an agent.” She looked up at Dermot. “I can’t believe all of this is happening now.”

“This is a good thing. Do you have an agent?”

“No. I work with the greeting card publisher direct. Now Briar Hollow wants me to buy more goats. And then, in between milking goats and drawing skunks and ducks, and caring for two high school–age boys, I’m supposed to illustrate a children’s book.” She groaned. “Maybe in my spare time I could go to medical school and rewire the house.”

Dermot laughed, pulling her close. “It always helps to overreact, Rachel. Just throw all your insecurities out there and see what sticks.”

“I’m not overreacting,” she protested. “Don’t you see what’s happening? I’m going to have to make a choice. The farm or my art. One or the other. I can’t continue to do both. And this is a really good opportunity.”

“You’ll figure out a way.”

“How?”

“I’ll stay a little longer than I originally planned.”

“No,” Rachel said. “No, that is not a solution. You have your own life to get back to and I’m not going—”

“But I kind of like living here in the middle of your life,” he said. “Mostly, I like sleeping in the middle of your bed.”

Rachel had already decided that she wasn’t going to take advantage of him any longer. He was far too kind to her, and though it made life easier, she had to figure out these things on her own.

“I’m going to turn it down,” she said.

“You don’t even know what it’s about,” Dermot reminded. “Why don’t you find out before you make a decision that you might regret?”

She met his gaze. He was right, of course. Dermot was always right. He took a measured approach to any decision, weighing all his options, examining the pros and cons. Rachel suspected if he were the one running the farm, they’d be milking two hundred goats, turning out cases of soap and making their own cheese. “All right. I won’t make any quick decisions. But all of this is making me a little nervous.”

“We’ll go into town later and post another ad at the grocery store. And then, we’ll put an ad in the local papers. And we’ll find someone to help you out on the farm.”

Rachel leaned over a dropped a kiss on his lips. “You’re really too good to me, you know that, don’t you?”

“I have ulterior motives,” he said, a wicked smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Which I am about to reveal.”

“You smell like a goat,” she said. “I smell like a goat.”

“We could always take a shower,” he suggested. “Together.”

Right now, she didn’t want to think about all the things she had to do, all the decisions she had to make. She just wanted to lose herself in an intriguing exploration of Dermot’s incredible body. Rachel tugged off her boots and set them on the steps. “I’ll race you.”

She ran inside, pulling her T-shirt over her head as she hurried through the kitchen. Dermot followed, hot on her heels, nearly catching her on the stairs. She screamed as she eluded his grasp, then slipped into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

“There’s only enough hot water for me,” she called. “You’ll have to wait.”

“Come on, Rachel. We can share a shower, can’t we?”

“You know what happened the last time we did that. We got distracted and ran out of hot water before I even got my hair washed.”

“I promise. I’ll keep my hands to myself this time around.”

“Promise?”

“I’m taking my clothes off right now,” he said. “I’m almost naked. Oh, yes, now I’m naked.”

She opened the bathroom door a crack and peeked out. He was standing in the hallway, his clothes at his feet. “Can I come in?”

Her fingers twitched with the urge to touch him. He was already aroused. With Dermot, it was easy, she mused. He made it obvious that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. When it came to sex, she didn’t have to think. She just felt.

She opened the door wider to let him pass. As he did, Rachel let her hand drift across his belly. He moaned and turned into her touch.

“I’m counting on you to behave,” she said in her most seductive tone.

“Then stop messing with me,” he replied. Dermot reached behind the shower curtain and turned on the water.

Rachel quickly skimmed her jeans to the floor, then kicked them aside along with her socks. “I’m just making sure you’re only interested in a shower.”

Dermot grabbed her and kissed her, stopping her come-on with his lips and his tongue. When he finally drew away, Rachel stepped behind the curtain and into the claw-foot tub. He joined her a moment later, wrapping his arms around her waist. His mouth found hers again and he kissed her, hungry with desire. Rachel arched against him as his lips trailed over her shoulder and onto her breasts.

She slowly stroked him as he explored her body with his lips and tongue. The water made him slick, and before long, he was fully aroused and moaning with desire. Rachel knew exactly what would drive him wild, and when she closed her lips over the head of his shaft, he gasped, his hands braced on her shoulders, his eyes closed.

If this was the last man she’d know intimately, Rachel could live with that. The memories of what they shared were so deeply etched into her mind that she knew she’d be able to recall every caress, every reaction, by just closing her eyes.

She tempted him with her lips and her tongue, surprised by how easily she could bring him to the edge. And then, she took him too close. Dermot grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet, his eyes closed, his jaw tense. Rachel watched as he struggled to maintain control.

He gently drew her against his body, her back to him, his fingers slipping between her legs. Every nerve in her body tingled, his touch causing her pulse to race. He could read her reactions, and when she had reached the point of no return, Dermot slipped inside her.

The feel of him buried deep was almost more than she could take. The fears and insecurities that had kept her from loving him were gone. Why couldn’t she feel like this all the time, as if there were no way anything could come between them?

The sensations coursing through her body obliterated rational thought, and a moment later, she was caught in the vortex of her release. Rachel’s body went boneless and it was all she could do to stay upright. A moment later, he found his own release, his hands clutching her hips as he drove into her one last time.

They clung to each other beneath the shower, her backside nestled in his lap, both of them trembling in the aftermath of their orgasms. It would never be like this with another man, she mused. The passion they shared was singular and powerful, and becoming more frightening to her with every encounter they shared. How would she ever do without this?

Though she wanted to imagine a happy ending for the two of them, the odds didn’t seem to favor them. Was she willing to give up everything she’d known, everything she promised, to find a life with him? And was he ready to make that kind of commitment?

There were too many questions left unanswered and she was running out of time to ask them all.

THE STORM BEGAN IN the middle of the night. Lightning flashed and the thunder was so loud it rattled the windows. Dermot sat up in bed, reaching out for Rachel. But her side of the bed was empty.

He tossed the sheet aside and stood, searching the room for something to wear. In the end, he pulled on a pair of jeans and walked downstairs barefoot. He found her, curled up in front of the television, tuned to the weather channel. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Tornado warning,” she said.

“Tornado? Really? How close?”

She pointed to the television. “About twenty miles.” Rachel drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around her legs. “I hate bad weather,” she said. “In town, they have the sirens to warn you. But out here, you just have to listen to the storm. It was so hot and humid today. I knew this was coming.”

He sat down next to her, his gaze fixed on the television. “Are there a lot of tornadoes around here?”

Rachel nodded. “Sure. We get some each summer. They don’t always do a lot of damage.” She shuddered. “I was terrified of tornadoes when I was younger. My dad would listen to the radio and wake us up in the middle of the night and we’d go down into the cellar and wait for the storm to pass. My mother would sing songs and try to distract me, but it didn’t help.”

“We don’t really have tornadoes in Seattle,” he said.

“Spring is usually the worst,” she said. “But a few years ago, we had a tornado in October. It tore the roof off a barn not far from here.” She snuggled up against him. “I think I watched The Wizard of Oz too many times when I was a kid. Between the tornado and the flying monkeys, I couldn’t sleep for days.”

Dermot wrapped his arms around her. “You don’t have to be scared,” he said. “I’ll protect you.”

“You can’t protect me from tornadoes.” She sighed softly. “What about you? Aren’t you afraid of anything?”

“Nothing. I’m made of steel,” he teased. “They call me Superman back in Seattle.”

Rachel wove her fingers through his. “Tell me.”

Dermot hesitated for a long moment. They’d been so intimate, and yet neither one of them had confessed their deepest fears. They’d both carefully avoided revealing too much. Maybe it was time. “I’m… I’m afraid that if I love something too much, I’ll lose it.”

“So you never fall in love?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I try very hard not to.”

“Interesting,” she said.

“That’s your reply? ‘Interesting’?”

She snuggled closer. “It doesn’t surprise me, considering what happened with your parents. Especially at such a young age. I’m surprised you’re as normal as you are.”

“What about you?”

“I think loss is something farm kids deal with at an \ age. We see the circle of life all the time. Animals that we love die. We cry and then move on. That doesn’t mean it becomes any easier, but it’s… understood?”

“What scares you, Rachel? Besides tornadoes?” He waited for her answer, wondering what she’d say. Dermot had never met a woman as strong as Rachel Howe, as stubborn or determined.

“I’m afraid that I’ll be alone. I’ll be like Eddie, regretting all the mistakes I made in life, wondering how things might have been different.” She drew a ragged breath. “I’m happy, don’t get me wrong. But I’m afraid that, someday, I’ll wake up and it will be too late.”

“That will never happen,” Dermot said. He wanted to say more, to tell her how much she meant to him, to make her understand that if he could ever love anyone it would be her.

Dermot could imagine a future with her, a life that included more happiness than he’d ever had in the past. He had never had a serious relationship. There’d been dating relationships, and sexual relationships, but none of them ventured into the realm of “emotional.”

Yet, when he was with Rachel, he didn’t want to be anywhere else. If he were honest, he was almost afraid to leave her, afraid that what they had found together might suddenly evaporate. At this point in every other relationship, he was usually looking for a way out. But with Rachel, he was still trying to figure a way in.

Neither one of them had any expectations, beyond hard work and constant companionship. And when there was a promise of more, he accepted their relationship for what it was—for as long as it lasted.

Was that why he was so confused? Without a point of reference, he had no way of judging what they shared together. Was this love? Friendship? Or just sexual desire being satisfied? Suddenly, it was important to put a name to it.

A clap of thunder shook the house and Rachel jumped, groaning softly. Dermot took her hand in his. “Come on.”

“No, I’m not going to bed until this is over.”

“This will help. I promise.”

Reluctantly, she followed him into the kitchen. He opened the door and rain-damp wind buffeted them both. The sky was a riot of light, each flash illuminating the huge clouds. The air was full of electricity.

“I’m not going out there,” she said.

“We’re just going to stand on the porch. If it gets really bad, we’ll come back in. I promise. Trust me, Rachel.”

He held out his hand and she reluctantly stepped outside. Dermot wrapped his arms around her waist. “Now, we just have to wait for the next big flash of lightning and—” The sky split open and he yanked her into a long, deep kiss. He continued through the thunder crack, distracting her with his lips and his tongue.

When it was over, Dermot stepped back. “Wait for it.”

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see. You’ll never—” The lightning flashed and he kissed her again, the thunder calling an end to the kiss. “From now on, whenever you’re in the middle of a storm, you’ll think of kissing me. You won’t be able to help yourself.”

“You’re crazy,” she said.

Another bolt of lightning flashed in the sky and she barely noticed. “See,” Dermot said, “it’s working.”

She turned and walked along the porch railing, staring out into the storm as if the answers were all there. “It is beautiful,” she finally said, the wind whipping at her hair. “Powerful. Exciting.” She paused. “And dangerous. Kind of like you.”

“I’m not dangerous, Rachel.”

“You are,” she insisted. “You have no idea. You make me need you. The more time I spend with you, the more I can’t do without you.”

“That’s usually the way it is,” Dermot said. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Because I feel completely safe with you, too. I don’t understand how that can be. I don’t know why I feel this way. I’ll never be able to forget you.”

“Then don’t. Don’t forget a single moment.”

The wind shifted suddenly and Rachel glanced over at him. “It’s coming now. You can smell it.”

In a matter of seconds the storm had whipped itself into a fury. The rain was driven sideways and the maples around the house rocked and bent to the breaking point. A limb snapped and fell near the end of the porch and debris blew across the yard. In the distance, he heard the goats bleating from the barn.

“We better get back inside,” he said.

Rachel shook her head. “No. I want to face this fear. You were right.”

“I might have been wrong.” Dermot grabbed her hand and dragged her to the door, pushing her back into the kitchen. He peered out the window, stunned to see that the wind was blowing even harder. “Maybe we should go in the cellar.”

He opened the door and flipped on the light and followed Rachel to the bottom of the steps. They sat down on the last one. A few seconds later, the stairwell went dark.

“There’s a flashlight at the top of the stairs,” she said. “I’ll get it.”

“No, stay here,” he said, holding tight to her hand.

“Are you afraid?”

“Yeah, I’m kind of creeped out. I saw that movie Twister. I’m just waiting for the house to disintegrate around us. Are the goats going to be all right?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice coming out of the dark. “They’ll go in the barn. The stone foundation is strong. They’ll huddle up in a corner.”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, the two of them listening to the storm raging outside. And when it was over, they climbed the stairs and walked outside to survey the damage from the porch.

Small branches and clumps of maple leaves were scattered over the yard but all the buildings were still standing, their roofs intact. The cushions from the wicker chairs on the porch had disappeared and one of the hanging pots had fallen into the garden, but that was the limit of the damage.

He turned her to face him and kissed her softly. “That was kind of scary,” he admitted.

“I told you. Flying monkeys all over again.” She drew a deep breath of the cool air. “Smell the ozone? It’s from the lightning.”

Dermot slipped his arm around her shoulders and they walked back inside. A breeze now drifted through the screen door, taking the humidity out of the air. The storm was a reflection of their relationship, he mused. All the wild, crazy emotions one minute and the beautiful calm the next.

And yet, there was a danger there. He couldn’t predict the weather and he didn’t know exactly what was lurking just beyond the horizon—fair weather or the storm of the century?