Kate Hoffmann - The Mighty Quinns - Dermot-Dex

“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.”