Kate Hoffmann - The Mighty Quinns - Dermot-Dex

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.