Kate Hoffmann - The Mighty Quinns - Dermot-Dex

“I’ve kind of liked watching you,” he said, taking hold of her hand. “You’re pretty amazing.”

“Thanks,” she said. “But you see me every day. I think we should start with food. Funnel cakes first, then cream puffs.”

“What is a funnel cake?”

“You’ll see,” she said. She unlatched the gate on the pen and slipped out, one of the goats nipping at her skirt as she left.

They walked hand in hand down a long aisle of food trucks. There was fresh lemonade and deep-fried cheese and corn dogs and cotton candy. Every trailer they passed had something that Dermot wanted to eat. When they reached the stand for the funnel cakes, he looked at the picture and wrinkled his nose.

“What is this?”

“It’s really good,” she said. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

“It looks like a pile of poo. What are you going to make me eat?”

“It’s deep-fried batter. Kind of like a donut only shaped like a little mountain. And they cover it with powdered sugar and you eat it while it’s—”

“I think we need to go back to that place with the deep-fried cheese. I’ve developed a real fondness for cheese.”

Rachel ordered a funnel cake, then held it out to him. Dermot reluctantly took a bite. The dough was hot and crispy and it melted in his mouth. “Oh, God, that’s, like, the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

She looked at him and giggled. “You have powdered sugar all over your face.”

“Do I?” Dermot grinned. “Kiss it off.”

Rachel grabbed a napkin and wiped his face. “You behave yourself,” she warned. “Or I’ll have to take you home early and put you to bed.”

They sat down on a picnic table on one of the covered patios and continued to pick at the funnel cake. “I found something that I want to show you,” he said.

Rachel glanced over at him. “What is it?”

“An idea. I know it’s really not my place, but I’ll just mention it and you can do what you want with it.”

She watched him warily. “All right. What is it?”

He reached into his pocket and withdrew the bar of soap, setting it in front of her. “This is goat’s milk soap. They’re selling these at a booth for five dollars a bar. They make the soap with pretty ordinary ingredients. It’s not difficult. You could do it in your kitchen.”

“You want me to make soap?”

“Not necessarily. I think you could market soap. It could bring in some extra money for the farm. Maybe make things a little easier.”

“What’s the difference between selling it and marketing it?”

“The soap could be made somewhere else. But you could design the packaging and then market it to natural-food stores and bath boutiques using the farm’s name. It’s really all about the packaging and you could do a nice job with that.” He shrugged. “I guess, if you’re interested, I could do some research for you. See if it would be profitable?”

She stared down at the bar of soap, turning it over and over in her hands. “I—I don’t know. It is a really good idea. I—I just don’t know if it’s right… for me.”

“I just thought if you were going to stay, this might be something that…” He forced a smile, then reached out and took her hand. “I want to help you, Rachel. I want you to be happy.”

Rachel nodded, then stood, smoothing her hands over her skirt. “I think we should see a little more of the fair.”

Dermot tried to read her mood. She seemed open to his suggestion, but at the same time, she looked sad… or worried. He wasn’t sure which. It wouldn’t have to mean more work for her. Maybe he hadn’t explained it the right way.

Her mood lightened as they ate their way up one side and down the other side of the food area. By the time they finished, Dermot was stuffed. Though he enjoyed fine dining in some of Seattle’s best restaurants, he had to admit that this was one of the best meals he’d ever eaten. Considering the company, he wasn’t surprised.

“Exhibits next or rides?” Rachel asked.

“Not rides,” he said. “I need to give myself some time to digest.”

She laughed. “I’ve never seen anyone eat so much.”

“I wanted to try everything,” he said.

“We haven’t even started with the brats and sweet corn yet.”

Dermot draped his arm around her shoulders. “What I’d really like is to go home. I’d like to take off all my clothes and turn on the fans and lie down on your bed and spend the rest of the day… digesting. Oh, wait, I meant to say kissing you.”

“One more thing,” she said, taking his hand.

They finished their day with a ride on the Ferris wheel, enjoying a rare moment of quiet together as they were swept up above the crowd and then back down into the bustle. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.

“This was a good day,” he murmured, Rachel tucked in the crook of his arm.

“It was,” she said.

“I think I tasted everything.”

“We didn’t even get to the baked potatoes. And there are chocolate éclairs and barbecued chicken and grilled cheese sandwiches and—”

Dermot groaned as he put his hand over her mouth.

“Stop.”

Rachel reached out and patted his belly. “You can work it all off in the barn.”

“And in bed,” Dermot added.

They got off the Ferris wheel and headed toward the parking area where they’d left the pickup. Dermot held her hand as they walked, uninterested in the displays they passed and intent on getting back to the farm as soon as possible. They passed a booth for solar-heating systems and the guy behind the counter stared at Rachel for a long moment.

“Rachel? Rachel Howe?”

Rachel stopped and turned, frowning at first before a wide smile broke across her face. “Danny! Oh, my gosh. Look at you!”

“Look at you,” he said.

The man stepped from behind the counter and held out his arms. Dermot felt a surge of jealousy and watched warily as they greeted each other.

“What are you doing here?”

“Business,” he said. “I’ve got a solar-heating and wind-power operation I run out of Janesville.” He grabbed a brochure and handed it to her.

Rachel flipped through it, nodding approvingly. “Gosh, I haven’t seen you since high school.”

“I barely recognized you. I wouldn’t have except for that smile. I could never forget that smile. Are you back for a visit?”

“I’m running my parents’ farm now. We’ve got our goats over at the 4-H petting zoo.” She turned to Dermot. “This is my—my friend Dermot Quinn. He works at the farm. He’s visiting from Seattle.”

Danny held out his hand. “Danny Mathison,” he said, introducing himself. “Seattle. Great city. I’ve been there a couple of times.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dermot said, trying to sound friendly. He didn’t like the way Danny was looking at Rachel.

Danny quickly turned his attention back to her. “So, you’re living in the area. That’s good. And you’re still single?”

“Yes,” she said, a pretty blush staining her cheeks.

“Me, too. Hey, we should get together some night. Get some dinner and maybe catch a movie. Maybe play a little saxophone?”

“That would be great,” Rachel said with a laugh. “Everything except for the saxophone.”

“Then I’ll give you a call,” he said. Danny leaned close and kissed her cheek. “It was really great seeing you again. You’re in the book?”

“Right where I’ve always been,” she said.

“Good.” He grinned. “Great.”

Rachel said goodbye and she and Dermot continued on toward the parking lot. “‘That would be great’?” Dermot parroted. “‘Hey, we should get together some night.’ You know what he meant, don’t you? We should get together?”