Kate Hoffmann - The Mighty Quinns - Brendan

He shook his head. “The owner couldn’t have fired you just because of one fight—a fight that really wasn’t your fault. Let me go talk to him. I’ll—”

“This was my third fight, if you must know. I guess he was getting a little sick of paying for shattered glasses and broken tables.”

He sat down next to her, bracing his elbows on his knees. “You must have friends or family you could call.”

Amy shook her head, warmed by his concern. “No. My family lives on the west coast,” she lied. “Besides, we don’t talk much. And I haven’t been here long enough to make friends.”

“Well, where are you going to go?”

Amy shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll figure out something.”

He cursed beneath his breath. “I suppose you don’t have money for a motel room?”

She heard the concern in his voice, caught the trace of guilt in his expression. He did believe this was his responsibility, even though Amy knew it really wasn’t. She reached in her jacket pocket and pulled out the cash she’d made on tips—barely thirty dollars. “It’s your fault, you know. I was handling the problem. If you wouldn’t have butted in, I could have stopped the fight. But as soon as you pulled me out of there, all hell broke loose.”

“If you had stayed, you would have gotten hurt,” he said.

“We’ll never know, will we.”

They sat on the bench for a long time, staring out at the harbor, their breath clouding in front of their faces. Then he stood up and grabbed the garbage bag and her leather suitcase. “Come on, then,” he muttered.

Amy stood up and snatched the bag from his hand. “Come on where?”

“You can stay with me. There’s a crew cabin on my boat. It’s clean and warm. You can spend the night and tomorrow you can find a new job and a new place to live.”

Amy gasped, completely taken aback by his offer. She’d expected a few extra dollars for a motel room, maybe an offer of a ride. “Stay with you? I don’t even know your name. How do I know you’re not some psychopathic serial killer?”

“I guess you don’t,” he said.

“What’s your name?”

“Brendan Quinn,” he replied. “What’s yours?”

“Amy Aldrich.” She stared at him for a long moment. “Brendan Quinn. I suppose that doesn’t sound like a serial killer’s name.”

“I told you, I’m a writer.”

She motioned him closer. Reaching out, she touched his chin and tipped his head up to the light. “You look like you have an honest face. I’m very intuitive and I’m sure I’ll be safe with you.”

“I’m sure you will,” Brendan replied. He held out his hand and she hesitantly placed her fingers in his. “It’s nice to meet you, Amy Aldrich.”

They started off back down the dock, Amy glancing over at him every now and then. He really was quite handsome. She’d noticed that the moment he’d walked up to her in the bar. His dark hair was just a bit too long, brushing the collar of his leather jacket, and his face was covered with the dark stubble of a day-old beard. But it was his eyes that captured her attention. They were an odd mixture of green and gold, not exactly hazel, something much more intriguing.

When they reached his boat, he tossed her belongings onboard then helped her on deck. She lugged her suitcase toward the hatch and then dragged it down the steps. As she took in the cozy interior, she sighed in relief. Although she’d be sleeping in a strange place, Amy somehow knew that she’d be safe here. In truth, this would be the perfect spot to stay for the next few months.

“Can I make you anything to eat?” he asked.

Amy nodded, looking around the cabin, searching the place for more clues about the man she was entrusting with her safety. He lived comfortably. Though the interior of the cabin wasn’t luxurious, it was functional. And tidy. The shelves of books and the laptop computer proved his claim to be a writer.

“Where do I stay?” she asked.

He pointed forward. “First door on your right. There should be an empty bunk.”

“Where’s the head?” she asked.

He paused and looked at her. “You know boats?”

Amy shrugged and started forward. “My dad had a small boat.” She stepped inside the crew cabin. In truth, her father had a huge boat, a yacht on which she and her mother had spent summer vacations cruising the Mediterranean while her father stayed in Boston. She tossed her things on one of the lower berths, then rummaged through a bag for clean clothes. What she wore smelled of smoke and stale beer.

When she emerged from the bathroom with a freshly scrubbed face and clean clothes, she found him waiting for her at the table. She sat down next to him and picked up the glass of milk he’d poured for her then took a slow sip. “I really appreciate this,” she said, setting the milk down and licking her upper lip.

“No problem,” he murmured, his gaze fixed for a moment on her mouth.

To distract his attention, she took a bite of the ham sandwich he’d prepared. She’d been so used to eating bar food for every meal that a simple ham sandwich tasted like gourmet fare. “Why did you jump into the middle of that fight?” Amy asked. “I was in a roomful of men and you were the only one who came to my aid. Why was that?”

“I don’t know,” Brendan said. “You just looked like you needed me.”

“The same way I needed you outside the bar?” Amy asked.

“Yeah, maybe.” Brendan chuckled.

“But why?”

He shrugged. “When I was a kid my Da used to tell us stories about our ancestors. The Mighty Quinns. They were always the heroes, brave and strong, chivalrous. I guess the stories stuck.”

Amy smiled, then leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad they did,” she murmured. She picked up her sandwich and her milk and pushed away from the table. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

When she reached the safety of her cabin, Amy shut the door behind her and leaned back against it, clutching the milk and her ham sandwich to her chest. She smiled, then took a bite of the sandwich. It was nice to have a hero, someone who cared more about her than the Aldrich money. But how far would this stranger— would Brendan Quinn—go to help her?

Amy sighed. There was an even bigger question out there. How long would she be able to resist such a handsome and charming protector?

HE WASN’T completely asleep when he heard the knock on the door of his cabin. At first, Brendan thought it was his imagination, part of a dream he had briefly slipped into before drifting off. But the knock came again and he pushed up on his elbow and rubbed his eyes. There could be only one person on the other side and considering his earlier reaction to Amy Aldrich, Brendan wasn’t sure that a late-night visit was in his best interest. He rolled over and closed his eyes.

She knocked again, this time more insistently. With a soft curse, he reached out and turned on the light beside his berth. “Come in,” he called.

The door opened a crack and Amy peered inside. “I’m sorry to wake you,” she said in a low whisper. “But my cabin is freezing. Do you have another blanket?”

Brendan groaned inwardly. He wasn’t really set up for guests on The Mighty Quinn. When one of his brothers stayed overnight, they usually didn’t require much in terms of amenities. The only other blanket he had was the down comforter that he was sleeping beneath and if he gave that up, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all. “Put on another layer of clothes,” he suggested.

She opened the door wider and in the dim light, he could see that she’d already done that. She looked like a refugee from some bizarre slumber party, layers of clothing and pajamas turning her pretty figure into one that resembled the Pillsbury Doughboy. Topping it all off, she wore a hooded sweatshirt with the hood tied tightly around her face. He could hear her teeth chattering from across the room. If he had any worries about his attraction to her, they ended with the red wool gloves she wore on her hands and the fuzzy slippers on her feet.