What Love Can Do: O’Neill Brothers (Home to Green Valley Book 1)

Four

On her third-floor balcony, Lilly paced back and forth between her basil, sage, and cilantro plants, watering and muttering to herself. “What on Earth was I thinking?” Inviting him around town, Lillian…really? And wink-offering your muffins then following that up with a knock on his door while he answered half-naked? “Man, I looked desperate.”

Rule #1 of running any guest establishment was “Stay Out of the Guests’ Business.” Well, she wasn’t sure if that was really Rule #1, but her mom always made her feel that it was. Sitting and chatting with them was one thing, but inviting them out for a stroll was another entirely. The next level of nosiness. Way to show off her small-town-ness. Then again, weren’t Mom and her gossipy friends always telling Lilly she needed to get out more and meet nice men, or she would turn into an old maid? How was she ever supposed to do that if she never went anywhere?

Not that Lilly cared if she turned into an old maid. She was perfectly fine being man-less her whole life, since she’d earned her degree and was self-sufficient, but the thought of living without love or anyone to share it with that long made her sad most of the time. Not because her biological clock would soon start ticking, but Lilly truly wanted to start talking to people besides her mother, Avery, Mellie, and Cook.

In theory, she should’ve just come back to the kitchen and minded her own business after having tea with Quinn O’Neill. But that lilt in his accent! That baritone voice! That dark hair and those eyes, the stubble on his chin, his leather jacket. God, what was it about Irish men? She hated to be a cliché, but there was something so charming about him. Plus, her heightened interest wasn’t unfounded. He had smiled at her and chuckled when they’d talked over tea, and he had come out of his room looking for her when he could have just gone to sleep like his brother had. She just knew he’d come back out looking for her.

Lilly couldn’t ignore the way he’d made her feel standing there in only his jeans teasing her about letting her into his room or trying her muffins. How did guys do that—just have zero concern when they were in the buff in front of a girl they’d just met? She guessed it was all about confidence and wished she could have borrowed some of his. But before he’d shifted behind the door, he’d stood there, one arm over his head, leaning against the door frame, his chest and abs nicely defined and covered with a soft smattering of dark hair, not too much, but not bare either—perfect.

Her legs had gone weak, and she’d felt a jolt of energy shoot through her arms and back down to her groin, as he’d stood there, gazing right through her like he knew it too, just enjoying the way it was affecting her. But she couldn’t chicken out, so she’d swallowed her dread and invited him into town, and now, she had no choice but to wait it out—a whole twenty or so hours until she saw him again. In the meantime, she’d make the afternoon goodies and spend all twenty hours trying not to think about Quinn O’Neill, newly-arrived Irishman.

Or what the hell—she’d think of him and enjoy every moment of it.

In the morning, she waited in the living room wearing jeans and a long-sleeved top with her gray wrap-around cardigan. She’d put on her pretty dangling earrings, the ones she rarely wore unless there was occasion for it. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, flipping through the October issue of Better Homes Gardens, trying to look casually bored and excited at the same time. Next to her, she brought a picnic basket packed with banana streusel muffins, orange cranberry muffins, and cinnamon date brioches.

Her mom breezed through the living room, rearranging the magazines and flicking a speck of dust off the coffee table. “What time do you expect to be back, Lillian?”

“No clue. But you won’t need me until this evening, will you?”

Mom’s shoulders drooped. “I guess that would be fine.” She huffed and began walking off, but then she turned suddenly. “You be careful. I’m not fond of you going off with two strange men by yourself like this.”

Lilly closed the magazine and shot her mother a look. “Seriously? Mom, everything will be fine. I told you Quinn and I talked yesterday—he’s not a stranger anymore. He’s nice. Not a big deal.” Lilly flipped the magazine back open and held back a smile, as her mother gave her a disapproving look then entered the kitchen. “Besides, I’ll do as I damn well please,” she muttered under her breath.

A moment later, the brothers emerged from the hallway looking well-rested, draping their jackets over their arms. Quinn was definitely the more athletic of the two, probably having played some type of sport before, whereas Con was built more like a yoga instructor. “What’s the craic, Barack?” Quinn laughed, standing feet apart.

She waved, not knowing what on Earth that meant. “All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?”

“What’s that?” His smile faded a bit.

“Oh, uh…just that you’re ready to go. I brought you breakfast.” She held up her basket for them to see. They approached and stood facing her in the morning light, filtering in through the window. “Figured we could eat while we’re out, if that’s okay.”

“Sounds lovely,” Quinn said, turning to his brother to ask if he’d locked the room and had his cell phone.

Con checked his pockets, nodded at Quinn, then flashed a smile at Lilly.

Lilly bit her lip and glanced away shyly.

“What about the journal?” Quinn asked Con. “And the map we printed?”

While they discussed the particulars of what they needed before heading out, she stole glances at them in the dusty light. Conor had some beautiful, gem-like eyes, but Quinn’s chocolate brown were rich and decadent. Quinn was also a few inches taller than his brother and a few years older too, from the looks of it, but both were handsome, even though they looked nothing alike, except for the dashing smile. Both wore jeans, some sports jerseys she couldn’t identify—Quinn’s in blue and Con’s in green—and both had combed back their freshly showered hair.

“Alright, we’re good for it,” Quinn said, stepping closer to her.

“Ready when you are,” Con said.

Lilly ignored the butterflies fluttering in her stomach and strolled through the front door, loving the cool early autumn breeze outside. The fog was just starting to creep back, as the sun began burning its way through the morning. “Well, I don’t know if you boys had any one place in mind, but I thought maybe you’d want to see a vineyard first. How does that sound?” She glanced over her shoulder at them and bounced down the front steps onto the sidewalk.

“As long as you’re leading the way in those jeans, anywhere you want to go is fine by us,” Con said, sounding like he said “oos” instead of “us.”

Lilly blushed.

A moment later, she heard a smack. “Whist, you stupid wanker,” Quinn groaned. “Have you no shame or decorum in the presence of a lady? Lilly, excuse my brother. He has a lot to learn in the ways of women.”

“In the ways of women? You’re only saying that to impress her. You’re just as much a bowsie as any of us, I swear it. Lilly, don’t listen to him.”

Quinn rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. “Honestly, Con, she’s going to regret ever offering to show us around. Sorry about all this.”

“It’s okay.” Lilly laughed, heading down the sidewalk toward their first stop. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun listening to two brothers fight, especially over her. She honestly didn’t mind Con’s comment. It was nice to have someone notice her ass in the first place. “Not a problem, though on the way back, I’ll have you boys do the leading.”

“Eh?” Quinn punched Con’s shoulder and smiled at Lilly. “A girl who can hold her own. I love it.”

Lilly felt surprisingly empowered and charmed at the same time. “So what kind of wine are you into?” she asked to change the subject.

“Eh…the eh…delicious kind,” Con said, patting his stomach.

Lilly cocked her head. “Is that so? Well, you came to the right place. This vineyard and winery we are going to makes a thousand cases of Chardonnay and Syrah a year. They also make twenty-five hundred cases of Pinot Noir yearly, all vineyard-specific, limited-production, so you’ll be happy to know I know the owners personally and can get you in for free!”

“Well, that does sound lovely,” Quinn said in amazement, giving his brother a secretive look that Lilly wasn’t sure how to interpret. Was she showing off too much perhaps?

They reached the old two-story Tudor-style building she loved so well and walked through the open gate down the brick walkway to the side of the house. “Welcome to Parker House and Vineyard.” Lilly pulled the side gate open to expose rows and rows of beautiful, green fields and a gorgeous flowered path leading the way.

“Ah, it’s breathtaking!” Quinn said. His brown eyes soaked in the rolling hills, the morning golden sun shedding light on the rows of grapes, and the workers out in the field. “What are they doing, Lil?”

“Harvesting.” Lilly led them out to the fields. She loved that he called her Lil, the name her father always called her. “The dark grapes will be made into Syrah. Is that why you came? You like the reds?”

“We uh…” Con grunted and launched right into candidness. “Didn’t come for the wine. We came because our mother—”

Quinn smacked Con again.

“Bloody hell. Would you stop hitting me? What’s the big fecking deal?”

“Your mother? Your mother what?” Lilly shielded her eyes from the sun.

Quinn sighed. “Our mother hailed from this area. We came for a visit because of her. We actually don’t know much about wine. Sorry if I misrepresented before.”

She didn’t mind that so much. She was more interested in their mention of their mother. “From Forestville? Or New Killarney?” She hoped she wasn’t being presumptuous, but with a name like O’Neill and having come from Dublin, maybe they were from the Irish town an hour up the road.

“Nope. Forestville, definitely. Green Valley. We don’t know much about her background. Just learning now.” Quinn broke away and walked ahead of her to take photos, and Lilly got the sense that he didn’t want to talk much about his mother. She could respect that. Once he’d gotten sick, she hadn’t talked much about her father to strangers either.

“I see. Well, I know all the families from around here. I would know anyone named O’Neill, and I don’t. Did she go by any other last name?” Lilly asked Con.

Quinn and Con exchanged glances, then Con just shook his head. “No. That would be it, just O’Neill.”

“Hmm,” Lilly mumbled. She looked at Quinn. “Well, if you ever want to talk about it, I’m a good listener.” She didn’t know what the deal was with their mother, but she’d lost her dad to disease and might be able to empathize, depending on what was up.

“Thanks.” He smiled as if to say, I appreciate it.

They strolled the vineyard a while, as the brothers took photos of each other, and Lilly took some really great ones of them together. They really were a handsome set of boys, and truth be told, she was having fun showing them around. “Well, it’s too early for a wine tasting, but we can have breakfast over there, if you like.” She led them to a gazebo with an old picnic table where they took seats.

A woman with long, braided gray hair Lilly hadn’t seen in a few days came out of the main house and walked up to them, wiping her hands on a hand towel. “Morning, Lilly, how are you doing today?”

“Good, Nancy. Meet our guests at the house, Quinn and his brother, Con. They’re from Dublin.” Lilly opened her basket and pulled out her assortment of muffins, brioches, and natural juices, along with three cups.

“Ah!” Nancy said, shaking hands with them both. “Welcome, welcome. I see you’re being given the five-star treatment by none other than Miss Hospitality herself. You’re in good hands, gentlemen. Will we be seeing you at the wine tasting later this afternoon?”

“That would be nice, ya?” Quinn said to his brother.

“Ah, sure, would be grand. Why not?” Con replied, eyeing the muffins.

Lilly turned back to Nancy. “Can we get some coffee and tea too, Nancy? With some milk for the tea?” She smiled at Quinn, who lowered his head in appreciation for her having remembered the way he liked his tea.

“Sure thing, will be right out.” Nancy turned back to the main house.

“Eh, black tea, if you have it,” Quinn called after her. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing.” Nancy nodded.

Lilly raised an eyebrow at Quinn. “So my tea sucked yesterday?”

“Now, I never said that,” Quinn chuckled under his breath. “Don’t go puttin’ words in my mouth, young lass.” He passed the muffins to his brother, and together they all broke into them, using the silverware Lilly had packed to slather on butter and jams and jellies. “So…exactly how do you know Nancy so well? And this whole place?”

“Yeah, how did you just waltz on in here?” Con asked, munching on a brioche.

“Wait…” Quinn stopped cold and looked around the fields and at the house again. He cocked his head at Lilly. “Where did you say we were again? Phillips Winery? You’re not a Phillips, are you?” He looked mortified, as though that would be a tragedy, not that she could disagree.

“Oh, God, no!” Lilly scoffed, not meaning to sound so offended. It’s just that nobody had ever mistaken her for being from the Phillips Family before. But since he mentioned it… “No, I said Parker House. How do you know the Phillips Family? You read about them online or something?”

Con eyed Quinn, and Quinn looked back at Lilly, swallowing softly. “Yeah, you could say that. I thought maybe you were related to them.”

“Not at all. I wouldn’t touch Phillips property with a ten-foot pole.”

“Is that right?” Quinn bit into a cranberry orange muffin. “Holy…this is the best. Con, try this. So, eh…why wouldn’t you touch it with a, eh…pole?” he asked, turning back to Lilly.

She shrugged. “Just because. Different families. Business competitors. We stay out of each other’s way for the most part.”

“We?” Quinn raised an eyebrow.

“Oh.” Lilly said, sitting up straight. “Yes.”

“So you know the Parkers of the Parker House, I presume?” he asked.

She smiled and gazed out at the vineyards she and her cousins should inherit one day. “Very well, actually. They’re my family.”