Читать книгу The Mighty Quinns: Dermot-Dex - Kate Hoffmann - Страница 15

BY THE TIME DERMOT finished his shower, he was ready to relax. He and Rachel had spent the entire afternoon doing a health check on the herd, a tedious process that required looking over every goat, trimming hooves and checking ears and general health in preparation for breeding.

Since Trevor had decided to join the football team, he stayed after school every afternoon, joining the milking tasks an hour late. After the milking was done, the boys and Dermot cleaned the parlor and the shed and brought in fresh straw, while Rachel went back to the house to start dinner.

Dermot slipped his bare feet into his shoes and wandered out onto the porch, his unbuttoned shirt flapping in the warm breeze. He expected to find her sitting on the steps, a spot that had become “their place” to watch the sunset.

The boys were at the table doing their homework. “Do you know where Rachel is?” he asked.

“She said she had to go out to the barn,” Taylor said.

Dermot jogged down the steps, happy to find that they’d have a few more moments alone. They’d fallen into a schedule of sorts over the past four days. Like any ordinary family there was a lot of juggling that went on, but it all seemed to work.

He looked for her in the office in the milking parlor and then walked through the goat barn. He found her sitting in a pile of straw next to Lady, the matriarch of the herd. A cluster of goats stood nearby, watching her.

“Hey,” he called. “What’s taking so long? I thought you’d be finished by now.”

She turned to look at him and Dermot frowned. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. He hurried over to her and bent down. “Is she sick?” he said. “I’ll call the vet.”

“No, no.” Rachel shook her head. “She’s fine.”

He sat down beside her. “What’s wrong, then?”

Rachel drew a ragged breath. “I’m just getting sentimental. It’s time to stop breeding her. She’s got arthritis in her knees and she had a difficult birth last year. And she’s starting to dry off already. So, her days as a dairy goat are over.”

“What happens then?”

“She just gets to relax. She’s given birth to twenty-two kids. She’s a wonderful mother. I remember when she was born. It was the year before I graduated from high school. She was the last nanny I showed at the fair before I left for art school.” A fresh round of tears started. “God, I’m getting so old.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-five. How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“We’re both old.”

“How long do goats usually live?”

“These goats live eleven or twelve years.” She glanced over at the goats gathered nearby and shook her head. “I used to be so much better about this. I don’t know why I’m suddenly so emotional.”

Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks and she brushed them away impatiently. Dermot wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his lap, cradling her as she wept. Smoothing his hand over her tangled hair, he whispered soft words to soothe her, and after a while, her sobs subsided.

“It’s not about the goats,” he said.

She looked up at him. “What?”

“I don’t think you’re crying about the goats.”

She sniffled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He nodded, burying his face in her hair and kissing the top of her head. Dermot knew how she felt. With every day that passed, they came closer and closer to the time he’d have to leave. He’d looked at the bus ticket at least four or five times each day, just to remind himself that his stay here was almost over.

He’d thought about calling his grandfather and telling him that he’d found a brand-new life on Rachel’s farm. But he was reluctant to make such a big decision without returning home first. He’d been living a fantasy life here. Everything had been so perfect that he had a hard time believing it was real.

The ache in his heart was real. The emotions he felt every time he touched her were more than real. So what was holding him back? She’d made it clear that there were feelings on her side. But how did he know if they’d last? Was he willing to give up his entire life in Seattle for just a chance at a future with Rachel?

He glanced around at the goats in the barn. Over the past five weeks, he’d grown to know them, too, their personalities, their silly idiosyncrasies. The kids were his favorites, little bundles of energy, always looking for trouble.

“You know, with the boys here and Eddie to take care of the goats, maybe you could get away for a week. We could go on a vacation together. Some warm place with white sand beaches and fruity drinks?”

“We stop milking sometime around the end of December.”

Dermot frowned. “You just stop?”

“Well, two months before the kids are due, we stop milking the pregnant goats, which is usually most of them by that time. Then we only milk them once a day for two months after their kids are born. So things sort of slow down for a while before kidding starts.”

“So you will have time off?”

“Yeah. Except that we won’t have any income coming in. And the goats still have to be fed and—”

“It would be my treat,” he said.

Rachel shook her head. “I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not? People do it all the time. We could call it a Christmas gift or a birthday gift or—”

“Have you ever taken a woman on vacation and paid for everything?”

Dermot opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. “No. But I’ve never known a woman I wanted to spend my vacation with until I met you. Just promise me you’ll consider it.”

It was strange to imagine a moment when he wouldn’t be able to reach out and touch her. Dermot had learned so much during his time with Rachel, about life, about love. He’d watched the sun rise and set, the season change. And he’d never felt more alive—or more vulnerable. Could he go back to a life that revolved around selling very rich people a yacht that they probably didn’t need anyway?

It all seemed so dull and unimportant compared to the work he’d been doing for Rachel. Almost like a game. In truth, there were times in the past when he felt like a con man, when he knew he was selling a boat simply because the buyer was seeking a status symbol and not a sailboat. But it was all good money, so he never questioned anyone’s motives.

He was good at his job, but was his job good for him? The more he thought about it, the more he began to wonder. Suddenly, working at Quinn Yachtworks didn’t seem to mean so much. It wasn’t who he was. It was just a job.

Rachel shifted in his arms and he looked down at her. She’d turned her face up to his and Dermot dropped a kiss on her lips. “Better?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Lady is a very special goat.”

Rachel crawled out of his arms, then squatted down next to Lady and patted her. The goat shook her head, the bell around her neck clanking. “You’re still the head mama, even if you won’t have any more babies. Enjoy your retirement, Lady Belle.”

She walked through the goats and stood in the doorway to the barnyard, the setting sun illuminating her face. Dermot crossed to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder.

“Come on, let’s go back to the house. I’ll make you a nice hot bath and we’ll have a glass of wine and relax.”

They walked across the yard, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. The boys had finished their homework and were throwing a football around in the waning light, Benny running back and forth, trying to play with them. When they got inside, Dermot took her upstairs and gently undressed her, then filled the tub with hot water.

When she was settled, he sat down beside the tub and grabbed the sponge. Once it was lathered, he scrubbed her back, brushing aside her hair. “It’s been a good day,” he said.

“It has. And it’s nice having you here with me at the end of it all.” She braced her arms on the edge of the old tub and looked up at him. “Thank you.”

Cupping her face in his hands, Dermot kissed her softly. “No problem.”

“You know, you’ve been a really important part of this farm these last weeks. And worth a whole lot more than a hundred dollars a week.”

“How much am I worth?” he asked with a playful smile.

“A million dollars,” she said.

“That much?”

“I wish I had enough money to lure you away from your regular job.”

“That wouldn’t take money,” he said.

Dermot thought about what it would take. He’d considered staying, making a life with Rachel. It was easy to believe that what he shared with her was real and lasting. But he had a life somewhere else. Did he love her simply because she needed him?

“I’m going to go down and get you a glass of wine,” he said. “And then, I’m going to wash your hair for you.”

Rachel sank down in the water and closed her eyes. “Two million,” she said. “That’s what you’re worth.”

Dermot walked downstairs, and when he got to the kitchen, he stood in front of the fridge and stared inside, his thoughts occupied with the woman upstairs. Every ounce of common sense told him that he’d have to go. At least for a little while. How would he ever know if their feelings for each other were true unless he had a chance to put them in perspective? With Rachel in his arms and in his bed, he’d been lost in an infatuation that didn’t seem to have an end.

He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Women had always held a very specific place in his life. He’d never, ever let any woman get under his skin like Rachel had. She’d become a part of who he was as a man, and excising her from his life would be like losing an arm or a leg.

If he were at home, he’d go out for a beer with his brothers and they’d be able to give him some solid advice. But he felt more than just a physical distance from them. The bonds that had seemed so strong between the four of them had been replaced by the bond he shared with Rachel.

He reached for the bottle of wine and then closed the refrigerator. Drawing a deep breath, he fixed his mind on the naked woman upstairs. If he thought about the future, he got lost in a vortex of confusion. He’d just have to take one day at a time and hope that, when it came to goodbyes, he’d know exactly what to do.

ON WARM NIGHTS, they ate dinner on the porch around a weathered wooden table with a bouquet of wild-flowers in the center. The boys had been at the farm for a week and were already settling into a happy routine.

Though their presence had put a bit of a crimp in her sex life, Rachel and Dermot had managed to find plenty of time together in the afternoons, before Taylor came home from school. But now they had Saturday and Sunday to contend with, and Rachel found herself planning a little getaway in the late-night hours.

“I’m starving,” Dermot called through the screen door.

“Me, too,” Taylor yelled.

“Me, three,” added Trevor.

“So hungry that you’ll even eat my cooking?” She stepped out onto the porch, her arms laden with plates and bowls. “Dinner is served.”

“I love your cooking,” Dermot said, grabbing a platter as she walked past. “Can’t you tell? I think I’ve put on a few pounds since I got here.”

“You’re just being polite,” she said. “I know I’m not a great cook.”

He nuzzled her neck and she giggled, trying to wriggle out of his embrace. “You’re good enough for me.”

“Thank you,” she said, finally escaping his arms. She returned a moment later with a bottle of wine and two glasses, then handed them to Dermot before she sat down. The boys filled their plates and sat down on the porch steps, tossing bits of bread to Benny, who sat between them.

Dermot poured her a glass of wine. “I love your meatloaf.” He chuckled. “And that was purely a nonsexual comment.”

Rachel smiled and leaned over her plate to kiss him. “Stop it,” she whispered.

“Are you finally ready to be rid of me?”

Rachel shook her head. “No. I’m going to be lonely without you.”

“You could come with me,” he said.

“No!” Taylor shouted. “She has to stay here. So do you.”

They had carefully avoided talk of the future for the past few weeks. But in the past couple days, it seemed to come up again and again. “It was beautiful while it lasted,” she murmured.

“Why haven’t you asked me to stay?”

She was shocked by the question and she frowned, trying to read the expression on his face. Rachel had never even considered that he might be happy living on the farm with her. Sure, he felt a need to help her, but Dermot didn’t seem like the kind of man to be happy tending goats for the rest of his life. “I—I guess I know how anxious you are to get home. Back to your brothers and your grandfather.”

“You feel like my family,” he said.

“That feeling will go away. You’re tricked into that because we’ve been so close. We’ve been living like an old married couple.” She nodded to the boys. “With two kids.”

“I don’t think that feeling’s going to go away,” he said, picking at his food.

The sound of a car on the gravel driveway interrupted their discussion and Rachel slowly stood, staring out into the yard. “Oh, no.”

“What is it?” Dermot folded his napkin and set it on the table. “Who is it?”

“It’s my brother. I should have known this was coming. He shows up every now and then to try to convince me to sell the farm. I’ve been ignoring the letters from the lawyers, which has probably pissed him off.”

“He can’t force you to sell the farm. It’s in your father’s will.”

“That’s not going to stop him,” Rachel said. “And now that the boys are here, he knows his case is not so good anymore.”

Dermot stood up and moved to her side, slipping his arm around her waist. She could feel his body tense beside her and she knew from the look on her brother’s face that he had run out of patience.

“Why is Uncle Jim here?” Taylor asked. Trevor stood up as if he sensed the tension in the air.

“Guys, why don’t you take your dinner inside,” Dermot ordered. They reluctantly went into the house, but stood at the screen door, watching the scene unfold in front of them. Dermot grabbed Rachel’s hand as they stood at the bottom of the porch steps.

“Hello, Jim,” Rachel said as her brother strode up to them. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Rachel,” he said with a curt nod. “I’d heard Jane’s boys were living here.”

“They are. This is Dermot. Dermot Quinn. He’s my—”

“Boyfriend,” Dermot interrupted.

“Boyfriend?” Jim’s brow rose perceptively. She could tell that the news wasn’t what he wanted to hear. A boyfriend meant help on the farm. The longer Rachel struggled on her own, the happier her siblings had been.

“Yes.” She glanced up at Dermot. “My boyfriend. He lives here with me—and the boys. And Eddie.”

“I do,” Dermot said, forcing a smile.

“So things are going better than when I saw you last?”

She nodded. “Much better. The dairy is running smoothly. I’m thinking of increasing the size of the herd. We just had our state inspection a few weeks ago and passed with flying colors. The price of goat’s milk is up, so I can’t complain. Would you like to stay for supper? We’re having meatloaf and mashed potatoes.”

He shook his head. “I’m just on my way home. I had a business meeting in Madison and thought I’d check things out.”

“I can give you a little tour,” she said. “If you’re interested.”

Jim shook his head. “No, no. That’s fine. I’m just going to head out.” He turned for the car, then realized his manners. “It was nice meeting you…”

“Dermot.” Dermot sent him one of his most charming smiles. “Nice meeting you, Jim. Drive safe, now.”

Jim turned back to Rachel. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but one day you’re going to realize that you’ve wasted your life working on this farm. It would be better for all of us if you’d just give up gracefully.”

“I’m not going to do that,” she said.

Cursing beneath his breath, he walked away. She and Dermot watched as he turned the car around and roared out of the driveway, gravel spitting up from the tires. The boys rejoined them on the porch.

“Why did he come here?” Taylor asked.

“He just wanted to check up on me,” Rachel explained.

“He wants Aunt Rachel to sell the farm,” Trevor said. “Our mom wanted that, too, until she brought us here.”

“I promised your grandfather that I would try to keep the farm in the family,” Rachel said. “And you boys are family. As long as you’re here, we’re not going to sell the farm.” She smiled at them. “Don’t worry. You have a home here for as long as you want.”

They seemed to be relieved and Rachel felt good, knowing that they were becoming attached to their legacy. Maybe goat farming skipped a generation?

She and Dermot sat back down at the dinner table and continued to eat. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it just below her wrist. “If you ever need help, if money gets tight and you’re afraid you’ll lose the farm, I want you to promise that you’ll call me.”

She smiled and gave him a hug. “Thank you, that’s very—”

“It wouldn’t need to be a loan. Call it an investment. You wouldn’t have to pay me back. It would be like a timeshare. I could come and work the farm whenever I wanted and you wouldn’t have to worry.”

Rachel laughed at the notion. “A timeshare on a goat farm. Gee, I wonder if we could sell a whole bunch of shares? You’re very funny.”

“I’ve grown to love this place almost as much as you do. And I have plenty of money. And I am your boyfriend, after all.”

“Thank you,” she said, emotion filling her throat. “But I really think I need to do this on my own. If I can’t make it work, then my brothers are right. I’m wasting my time.”

Dermot pulled her into his embrace. “I just want you to be happy,” he said. He kissed her, lingering over her mouth for a long time before stopping.

“I am happy,” she said. “Right now, at this very moment, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”

“Then let’s finish our dinner and watch the sun set and then go to bed.”

“Separate beds,” she whispered.

“I have a plan,” Dermot said. “Do you want me to tell you about it?”

“I think we can save that for dessert,” Rachel said softly.

“I thought we were having pie for dessert,” Dermot said.

Rachel groaned. “Is that all you boys think about? Food?”

“Yes!” Trevor and Taylor shouted from the kitchen.

“No,” Dermot murmured. “But it does take my mind off the other hungers.”

A shiver skittered down her spine. “Behave,” she warned.

DERMOT LAY ON HIS BED in the stone house. The weather had cooled and a breeze blew at the curtains, rustling the maple trees outside the window. He hadn’t spent a night in this bed since his first one on the farm. But now, it was the only place he and Rachel could find any privacy when the boys were around.

He understood her reluctance to set a bad example. They were affectionate with each other in front of the boys but when it came to sleeping in the same bedroom, Rachel drew the line. Dermot found that quite amusing, prude by day, wanton by night.

He heard the screen door downstairs squeak. And then soft footfalls on the stairs. Dermot sat up, waiting, listening, watching the door in the moonlight filtering through the bedroom window. And then, she was there, silhouetted in light and shadow, her long limbs visible beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown.

Dermot crawled off the bed and crossed the room, then pulled her into his arms. “I thought you’d never get here,” he whispered. He ran his fingers through her hair and drew her into a long, deep kiss. “I’ve missed you.”

“You just saw me a few hours ago,” Rachel said.

“That’s too long.” Dermot scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He gently set her down, then braced his hands on either side of her, pushing her back until he was stretched out above her.

They were so familiar with each other that she knew exactly how to pleasure him. She reached down and caressed him through the soft fabric of his boxers. He was already growing hard and he felt an ache deep inside him, an overwhelming need to bury himself in her warmth. It was a sensation that he’d come to crave, that moment when he was settled deep inside her and before he began to move.

At that moment, he felt as if they were connected in a way that could never be broken, that their bodies and souls had become one. Even though she’d soon be miles and miles away, he’d still be able recall how she felt, how she made him feel.

Desperate for that intimacy, he grabbed the hem of her nightgown and pulled it over her head, then tossed it on the floor. She was naked beneath, and when he reached out to caress her breast, Rachel arched against his touch, her breath escaping on a soft sigh.

He wanted to tease her slowly, bringing her to her release with his fingers and his tongue. But he felt a desperate need to possess her, to reassure himself nothing would ever change between them, and Dermot couldn’t deny himself. His mouth found hers again as he shoved the boxers down over his hips. Slowly, he slipped inside her, and when he could penetrate no deeper, he froze. The sensations racing through his body were almost more than he could handle.

Tonight, they’d find their release together and it would be perfect. And when it was over, he’d tell himself once again that even though he didn’t want to live without her, the feelings coursing through his body weren’t love at all, just a by-product of passion.

Rachel shifted, pressing her lips to his shoulder. She gently bit his arm, grazing her teeth over his skin. He’d taught her what he liked, that mixture of pleasure with a little pain, and she’d taken the lesson seriously.

She’d taught him that she believed foreplay was for people with more patience than she possessed.

“Are you going to move?” she whispered.

“Do you want me to move?”

“Mmm.” She wrapped her legs around his waist then rolled on top of him. “Or I could move. Let’s try that.”

She pushed up on her knees, then drove down on top of him. Dermot gasped. “Maybe we shouldn’t do that. This will be over before you realize it.”

“You’re not trying hard enough,” Rachel teased. “Just think of something else.”

“Sweetheart, when you’re naked in my arms, it’s impossible to think of anything else.”

Rachel smiled down at him, her pale hair falling in waves around her face. She bent close and kissed him, her tongue teasing at his. Though they’d probably made love fifty times, it was never the same. Each encounter revealed some new passion or hidden desire.

As she began to move again, Dermot grasped her hips, trying to slow her pace. But Rachel seemed determined to challenge his control with every stroke and every sigh, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

She closed her eyes and pressed her palms to his chest, her expression a mix of intensity and exhilaration. He wanted to touch her, to help her find her release, but when he tried, she brushed his hand away.

When he felt her pace increase, there was nothing more he could do to stave off his orgasm. Suddenly, Rachel stopped, her body arching against his, her fingers digging into his shoulders. And then she dissolved into shudders and spasms, her breath coming in gasps as she cried out.

The moment he felt her body convulse around him, Dermot knew he was lost. He grabbed her waist and rolled her beneath him. Reality fell out of focus and he let the waves wash over him, every nerve in his body firing, every tension releasing.

It was over so quickly. Dermot curled up beside her, his leg thrown across her hips. “How the hell am I supposed to get along without that?”

“There’s always self-gratification,” Rachel said. She looked over at him. “We could do it over the phone.”

“Or the computer.”

“I will miss you,” Rachel said, nuzzling her face into his shoulder.

“What will you miss the most?” Dermot asked.

She pushed up on her elbow, her hand smoothing over his chest. “I’m not sure I could name just one thing. It’s a lot of really strange things, things I just started noticing. Like when you eat cereal in the morning, you turn your bowl after each bite. And when you sleep, you just throw yourself all over the bed, like a giant rag doll. And the goats seem to like you a lot more than they like me.” Rachel curled back up beside him. “What about me? What will you miss the most?”

“This,” he said.

“Sex?”

“No,” Dermot replied. “This. Just you and me. All alone, listening to you talk. Knowing I can just pull you into my arms and kiss you or make love to you.”

Rachel rolled over and folded her arms across her chest. “I want you to leave your clothes here with me.”

“You want my clothes?”

She nodded. “They smell like you. I can sleep with them until I get used to you being gone. Kind of like a security blanket.” She reached over and grabbed his pillow and pulled it to her. “I think I’ll take this with me for now.”

“Where are you going?”

“I should go back to my own room. In case the boys get up and need something.”

“Stay,” he said. “We have so little time left. We’ll just get up before they do. I always wake up in time. I promise, they won’t even know you’re gone.”

The breeze freshened and a cool wind blew through the bedroom. Rachel reached down and pulled the old quilt up around them both. “Did you feel that?”

“Yeah.”

“Autumn is coming. We’ll breed the goats and watch them all get round and lazy. And then, starting sometime in February, they’ll all have babies.

Even though it’s the dead of winter, it’s my favorite time of the year.”

As his hands smoothed over her hips, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of need. Would there ever come a time when he didn’t want her? When they’d completely exhausted their desire for each other? The prospect of waking up alone, without her beside him, was almost unimaginable. Casual sex with any other woman would never satisfy him again.

Raking his fingers through his hair, Dermot closed his eyes. He felt her palm move to his face.

It should be easy to rationalize the end of their time together, Dermot mused. He’d walked away from any number of women with whom he’d shared longer relationships. But it wasn’t just the physical uncoupling that he found difficult. From the beginning he’d been attached to Rachel emotionally, and that bond had only strengthened over the past weeks.

Even now, the thought of letting her go caused an ache deep inside of him, an emptiness that couldn’t be filled, not even with another woman. The kind of pleasure that he’d experienced with Rachel had been unique and perfect and it would be impossible to find with anyone else.

Dermot closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. He would get over her and he’d learn to live without her. It was just a matter of letting go.