Six
“What are you doing here?” Quinn’s face was loaded with surprise.
“What do you mean?” Lilly shrugged, setting her purse down on a stool. “Can’t a girl from the west side of town visit the east side? What is this, 1957?”
Quinn scoffed then gestured to the bartender for another pint for himself and one for Lilly. “God, she’s just like her.”
“Like who?” Lilly narrowed her eyes.
“Never mind.” He crossed his arms, showing off his forearms. “How’d you know where to find me?”
“Who said I was looking for you?” She bit her lip and heard the bartender laugh. Turning to him, she winked at the older man. She pulled out a stool, leaning into Quinn’s ear. “Anyway, why here? Why not that place across the street where there’s more action?”
“You like action, do you?” Quinn raised one eyebrow and clucked his tongue playfully.
“You know what I mean.” She nudged his arm. “This place is dead,” she whispered. “No offense. By the way, I saw your brother outside. He was making out with some girl outside. He sure bodes well with the natives.”
Quinn smirked at the bartender—Paul, was it?—whose expression soured. Maybe he didn’t like people kissing outside his pub? “Yeah, he wastes no time, that one. By the way…” Quinn cleared his throat. “Lilly, this is Paul Brennan, the proprietor of Mulligan’s, and the girl you spotted outside is his daughter, Dara.” He widened his eyeballs.
Lilly had never felt more mortified. “Ah.” She felt her face flush. “Yes. Pleasure to meet you, sir. Lovely, lovely pub you have here. Always wanted to come inside. And now I have!” She smiled, as Paul pushed a Guinness across the wooden countertop towards her. She took the dark liquid and sank back a third of it.
“Pleased to meet you too. Enjoy.” He smirked and returned to watching the football game.
“Never would have guessed,” Quinn said, staring at her and shaking his head.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The beer was dark and heavy, but it was wonderfully cold and felt nice going down. “There are lots of things about me you never would guess,” she said.
Lilly wasn’t usually the daring type, but then again, she usually wasn’t about to leave town soon either. What the hell, she’d thought when she got off work, figuring she’d come looking for Quinn and Con. I’m about to leave anyway. May as well go out with a bang.Literally.
She chuckled to herself.
“Find something funny, do ya?” Quinn’s face lightened, and he swiveled on his stool. His head tilted slightly. He crossed his arms, one elbow on the counter. “You have my full attention now, Miss Parker, with your, There are lots of things about me you don’t know and your secretive smile. Keep talking.”
Behind the counter, Paul Brennan chuckled and leaned against the cash register, watching Green Bay playing Chicago.
Lilly swallowed softly, not wanting him to catch on to her tell-tale signs of nervousness. “Who’s winning?” she asked to change the subject. “Anyone know?”
“Packers are up 7-0. It’s first and down,” Paul replied, eyes glued to the screen. “Ten seconds left on the clock in this quarter. You like football, miss?” He turned an eye on her.
Lilly sank back another sip of her Guinness. “I’m a daddy’s girl. And a huge Raiders’ fan.”
“Raiders?” Paul recoiled, scoffing. “Only 49er fans allowed in this pub, missy,” he laughed. “Didja hear that, Quinn? Your Raiders friend likes rowdy drunkenness. Not sure I should let a public menace like her in here.” He smiled and extended a pointed, playful finger at Lilly.
“To rowdy drunkenness, Paul.” Quinn raised his fresh glass in a toast. “And girls who like sports.”
“Me, a public menace?” Lilly feigned being offended, hand at her chest. “I believe 49er fans hold the current record for most laws broken on game day, Mr. Brennan. I’m willing to bet you’ve seen the inside of a jail cell a handful of times for uproarious behavior.”
Paul squealed a hissy laugh and slapped his knee. “Aye, you’d be right about that, miss.”
Quinn seemed to watch her with deep admiration. Show you love sports in front of men. Hook, line, sinker…
“So, let me get this straight…you help run a bed-and-breakfast, you bake a fierce muffin, your family owns a vineyard and winery, and you like watching American football?”
“Just football, Quinn,” Lilly clarified. “See, ‘cause we’re in America.”
He put down his drink and threw his hands up. “You’re just too good to be true, Lilly Parker.”
“Careful there, lad,” Paul mumbled from his spot. “I’ve seen this happen before in your family. Thirty years ago, actually.”
Quinn smiled and lifted his chin in silent acknowledgement.
Lilly peered at Quinn over the rim of her glass. Before the beer, he was ridiculously gorgeous, and now after almost downing an entire pint, clearly right at home in the Irish pub, he was more beautiful than ever. For the next ten minutes, they joked and watched the game. She and Quinn continued to exchange flirtatious banter and hot glances.
At one point, she found herself resting her elbow on the bar, chin in her palm, just gazing at him. She suspected she had a sappy smile on her face. Wine she was used to, but beer was another animal altogether, and she was feeling a bit tipsy. “So I hardly know anything about you, Quinn.”
“There’s not much to tell,” Quinn said, his knee jittering up and down.
“That can’t be true. You’ve played a sport before. You were an extra in Magic Mike or something. Come on. Fess up.”
“Magic…what?” His eyebrows danced over pools of darkness.
“Nothing, just tell me about yourself, Quinn O’Neill.” Lilly took another long sip of her drink. She noticed that while he’d raised his glass for the toast, he hadn’t even taken a sip yet.
“Alright, let’s see. I graduated from Trinity in Dublin, played professional rugby for four years…” Lilly’s ears perked up. So that was where the solid physique came from. “Went to work for my dad and mam’s restaurant, and I’d been managing the place with my mam until she decided it was time to close shop and let us find our dreams. Now we’re in California, searching for gold, just like everybody else.”
Lilly didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t tell if he was happy with the way things had turned out or not, whether his coming here was his idea or sort of forced on him.
Quinn seemed to notice her concern for him. “No worries, it’s a long story. Let’s just say I might still play rugby, or I might go back to Dublin to open another restaurant. Sky’s the limit. My mam pushed us all out of the proverbial nest to find our own way when she realized we were living our father’s dream. So for the first time in my life…” He paused, staring into his Guinness. “I have no place to go.”
“God, Quinn, that’s so sad. I’m sorry.” She reached out and rested a hand on his forearm.
“Nah, don’t be. Could be worse. Could be raining.” He bit his lip, and Lilly couldn’t tell if he was kidding, serious, or what, but she felt a creeping giggliness rise into her throat.
She did her best to hold in her chuckle, but it escaped with a vengeance, which fed into Quinn’s short-burst laughter, and before she knew it, they were both snorting and leaning on each other for support. “I am so sorry,” Lilly said. “I’m laughing at your pain. Oh, my God, I’m such a bitch!”
“Now, now, you’re laughing with me, not at me. Right, Paul, we Irish don’t take things too seriously?” Quinn turned to Paul, and Lilly caught a magnificent view of his perfect profile—his straight nose, his angular cut jawline, the dark stubble growing there. She wanted to reach out and run her fingers along it.
“What’d you say, you bloody fecking bastard?” Paul grunted, and the three of them roared with counter-slapping laughter.
“See? We take everything in stride,” Quinn said.
Lilly was dying. She couldn’t breathe and she was still sober enough to realize that she was probably laughing so hard because she wasn’t completely sober. Was Quinn feeling the effects of his drink too? “Oh, my God…”
“What about you, Little Miss Muffin?” Quinn turned his attention on Lilly again. “Have you sat on any tuffins lately?” His eyes flared and roved over her a bit.
Lilly clucked her tongue. “First of all, it’s Miss Muffet, I’m pretty sure they taught me in Pre-K. And secondly, it’s tuffet and none of your business if I’ve sat on any of them.”
“Ouch. I see what you mean about Raiders fans being ornery.” Quinn cast a mock hurt face over at Paul.
“I tried to warn you, Quinn.”
Lilly dropped her head and shook with laughter. She loved this. Yes, they were a little brash and rude, but it was all in good fun, and she was doing a pretty good job of keeping up with them.
“What I mean is, what have you done lately? Tell me more about yourself, Miss Lilly Parker. Besides the fact that you surprise me every time you open your mouth.” His eyes focused on her lips when he said it, sending a warm shiver down her body.
Now he had a sexy mouth. Would she ever feel them on her lips or body? She desperately wanted to know and secretly thanked the beer for helping her loosen up, or else she’d never find out.
“Well…I know what you mean about wanting to open up your own restaurant,” she began. “You know how you liked my muffins this morning?” she asked. Quinn nodded slowly, briefly closing his eyes, remembering. “And you know how my mom owns and runs Parker House?”
“Let me guess…you want nothing to do with it.”
“I want nothing to do with it.”
It shocked her how easily the words came out. She’d never actually vocalized them before quite that way. Yet Quinn seemed to understand in a way nobody else could. He’d experienced a change in career a couple times now.
Lillian sighed. “That’s not exactly true. I love Russian River House. I grew up there. I love this town for the same reason. I just—I just don’t want to be tied to either one before I’ve had a chance to see the rest of the world. I didn’t always think that way. I went to school to study Hospitality, Food and Beverage, with the intention of continuing the family business. But there are so many cities I want to see. Plus, I took a baking class for fun and couldn’t get enough of it. Haven’t stopped since. I want to open my own bakery in a big city but I haven’t had the courage to tell my mom how I feel. We’ve been going through a hard time these last two years, financially and everything else…”
“Ah, sorry to hear it. Bad dose of luck, I take it?”
“You could say that. My father was ill.” She paused, fingers trembling around her glass. She didn’t want to talk about the ALS. It wasn’t why she came. But she’d loved talking about her father before the disease. She looked up with a sad smile. “He was a brilliant wine enthusiast. He loved the vines. Loved the winery. Loved making sure his products were top-quality. He really took pride in the place, more than he cared about making a ton of money. But after he fell into decline…my mother threw herself into caring for him, and well…we all lost sight of business for a while there.”
“I hear ya,” Quinn sighed. “Boy, do I hear ya.”
She nodded quietly for a minute, her eyes focused on the football game.
“Seems like we both need to get away then. Find courage. Find our way. Say what needs to be said.” Quinn stared through her, and all flirting aside, he had the kindest eyes. He was listening, interpreting her words. She wondered what other things he needed to say, what else was on his mind. For a man who loved to talk and joke, he still kept very private.
He was right about one thing, though—she did need to find her voice, as much as it would hurt her mother. It wasn’t just a matter of hiring someone to take her place—her mother felt Lilly needed to be there.
“All for what?” She spoke through a slight fog of tipsiness. “So I can go chase my dreams of opening a bakery in a big city? What if I fail? Sure, my baking is great here in a small town, but if I go out there, I need to compete with the big dogs, and I don’t know if I’m good enough.” She slapped the counter a little too forcefully.
Quinn scooped up her hands. Warm. Strong. Swoon. “Listen to me. You’re good enough. I say you are. And anyone who says you’re not can go suck it.” He gave her a devilish smile.
God, don’t say suck it. Don’t say such things looking so damned delicious, Lilly thought.
“I tasted them,” he said adamantly, “and guess what? I’ve been around restaurants and pubs my whole life, so I would know. They’re good. Better than good. Frightfully good. You just need the experience, Lilly. That’s all there is to it.” His fingers grazed hers, and her heart palpitated a little bit faster.
Experience. Was that something you could offer, Quinn?
Lilly didn’t have an awful lot of experience. Aside from being with Ben Miller for a year, she’d had one boyfriend her junior year in high school, Orlando Bines, which lasted four months and never got past the kissing-touching stage, and another her sophomore year of college, Harris McGuirk, who’d been her first sexual experience. None of them had made her feel the mindless passion she read about in romance novels. Lilly learned early on that the key to sexual fulfillment was being able to please herself through any means possible.
She’d lost hope a while ago that any man could “do it” for her.
Maybe it was the beer whispering in her ear, but she thought Quinn looked like that type of man. Then again, she’d known Quinn could do it for her when she’d headed over here. “Right,” she breathed, barely above a whisper. What were they talking about again? Oh right, muffins. Baking. Good God, was it warm in here? “Thank you, that’s really sweet of you to say. I guess I’m just a big dreamer at heart. Some might say I have a good thing going right where I am, and I’d be stupid to consider making any career changes. But I have this opportunity, you see, and it would mean leaving next month…”
“It’s not stupid to consider a career change. Not at all. And dreaming is pivotal for that road to success, as long as your brain is riding shotgun. You remind me of my mother, Lil, in so many ways,” he said, smiling at her affectionately. “She was a big business dreamer, like you.”
Lilly furrowed her brow. “Why do you talk about her in the past tense? Is she not with you anymore?”
He stiffened a bit, still looking straight at her, but the light slowly died from his eyes. “My mam passed away recently.” He pursed his lips and played with the edge of his glass.
“Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry to hear that,” she gasped.
He shrugged, nodding a bit, his stare never wavering. It was like he was looking right through her, maybe seeing his mother in her eyes. Lilly dared not move. “No one could’ve expected it. She was only fifty. That’s nothing,” he whispered, leaning in. Lilly leaned in too. “That’s about Paul’s age too.” He nodded in the direction of the pub owner fixated on the final moments of the game.
Lilly knew this pain all too well. She took his hand. “I lost my dad too…last year. I know how you feel, Quinn. When we’re little, we expect our parents to be around forever, or at least to grow old and gray. We never expect to lose them so early in life. I’m so sorry.”
He nodded, lips pressed into a stiff smile.
“So this is why you’re here. Why you came to Green Valley.”
“Yes. My mam, she married my dad and moved to Dublin, and since then, it’s been all about Dad and the family. Dad and my brothers. Dad and us. That was it. I never saw Mam take a trip for herself, never watched her have a gal’s night out, and if she settled down to do anything for herself, and one of us needed something, she popped right back up again to take care of it.”
Lilly listened, her heart aching, even though it wasn’t her mother he was talking about.
“I found an old journal of hers from when she was fresh out of grade school, and in it, she talks about all these crazy dreams she had, businesses she wanted to open—a surf shop, a flower shop, a bed-and-breakfast like you and your mam. She even wanted to open an Irish pub.” He chuckled to himself. “She was full of ideas. Who knew? The truth is, my brothers and I…we knew very little about her.”
“And so the O’Neill boys appeared.” Lilly smiled sadly.
“Yeah. We’re here to see where Mam grew up.”
“And what do you think?”
He tilted his head thoughtfully even as he kept his gaze on hers. “Even before I laid eyes on Green Valley, something about this place and what it meant to Mam called to me. Now that I’m here, I know why she loved it so much. It’s beautiful. Green. Lush. A playground of secrets just waiting to be discovered.”
She swallowed hard. “Wow.”
“What? Too much?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s just…I used to feel that way about this place. A long time ago. I suppose it’s typical, taking it all for granted because I’ve lived here my whole life, being unable to see the true depth of its beauty anymore. It’s nice…being able to see it again through your eyes.” They stared at each other for several seconds before she blinked. Realizing he was still holding her hand, she tugged until he released it. “Um—what about Ireland, though? It’s supposed to be gorgeous.”
“No doubt, it is. But Ireland also holds some painful memories for me and my brothers. I’m at a place in my life where I’m looking for a fresh start. A place to settle down where I can find what I’m meant to do. Who I’m meant to be. And maybe, who I’m meant to be with. If I’m ever going to live anywhere other than Dublin, now’s the time. Hell, from what I’ve seen so far, Forestville could be a contender.” He looked down for a moment, then back up at her again. “Would that be nice, you think?”
Lilly felt her heart sink. On one hand, that would be wonderful—to have Quinn nearby. She could see him more often and not worry that he’d be returning to Ireland if she started to fall for him, which she so easily could, unless it was the beer, which she didn’t think it was. But on the other hand, she was leaving in three weeks. Gone from Green Valley for six months. And after that, who knows? The world was calling to her. If Quinn was considering settling here with any degree of seriousness, that meant she was the wrong girl for him.
Sadness drummed at her chest. She polished off her Guinness and sat back, suddenly feeling decidedly too sober. So that was it then. Her drive over here had been a waste of time—sort of. She’d wanted to connect with Quinn, sense him out and see what he was all about, but there was no way she could ever date him.
He wanted in—she wanted out.
Too bad. He was breathtaking. And leaning into her. And holding her face with both his hands. “Is that a no?” He looked deeply into her eyes. The brown depths of his own invited her into his world, dark lashes, strong and alluring. She felt herself melting into them.
“Oh, it’d be nice. Definitely nice,” she whispered, taking in the fullness of his lips.
He would have to be a fling. Just a short fling, which was fine with her. She hadn’t been with a man in over a year, but Quinn was attractive and intelligent and hot enough to more than make up for the fifty-two weeks without. Yep, definitely just a fling.
“Tell me something.” His thumb brushed across her lower lip. He leaned in, and his knees spread apart, allowing himself even more room to inch in closer. “Are you doing anything later tonight?”
She’d never felt so bold before, but she’d never wanted anyone so badly either. Swallowing back her nerves, hands pressed against her shuddering knees, she whispered, “Yes. You.”