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

Sixteen

Suzanne finally pulled away and reached for the tissue box on her mahogany desk. Lilly thought she looked like a businessy sixty-year-old Bette Midler. “I loved my sister so very much,” she said, holding Quinn’s hands then reaching out to touch his face. “Your mother was very special to me.”

Quinn’s face warped, as he struggled with what to believe. If she was so special, then why didn’t you guys want her back home? Lilly could almost hear his thoughts. He shook his head, his mouth agape slightly, and for a moment, she thought he would need to sit down.

“I don’t…I don’t understand,” he finally hammered out.

Lilly reached for a leather chair in the corner and brought it towards him. “May I?” she asked Suzanne.

“Yes, of course!” Suzanne pulled forward a chair for herself and another for Lilly, rushed over to the window facing the parking lot and street, and peeked through the blinds. “Of course, of course…” If Lillian didn’t know better, Suzanne almost seemed to be keeping watch, making sure someone didn’t arrive at the exact moment that she was harboring the son of Maggie Phillips and Grant O’Neill right in her very own walls. “I have to go very soon,” she said, taking a seat opposite Quinn and crossing her legs. “We have a big event going on today, and the whole family is due to arrive any moment.”

“It’s okay. We won’t take but a moment. Thing is…” Quinn said, shaking his head. “If you loved her, like you say you did, why did nobody want her back home? She tried several times to get in touch with you.”

Suzanne’s face twisted into a knot. “No, love. My little sister was always stubborn. By God was she stubborn. I just never understood why she would abandon us the way she did.”

“She didn’t abandon you. She simply got married and moved away. I mean, isn’t that a perfectly normal thing to happen?”

“No, dear. She never even called when our mother died several years back. How could a daughter not call, not come home after something like that?”

“But she did!” Quinn assured her. “I have it here. I have her journal that she kept. It was private, and I only found it recently, but it says it right here…” Quinn opened his hand for the journal, while Lilly worked to fish it out of her bag. She plucked it free and handed it to him. While Quinn flipped to the right page, Lilly exchanged sad smiles with Suzanne, grateful that she had agreed to meet Quinn on such short notice and secretly as well. “See, look at it right here.” He began to read—

Well, that’s it then. I called Dad when I heard the news that Mom passed. I told him I wanted to come home and see him and my sisters, and what did he say? ‘We don’t have a daughter named Maggie. You must have the wrong number.’ Click, he hung up on me. Some family, huh?”

Quinn brushed the tears from his eyes. “It was right after I was born, twenty-eight years ago. She goes on to say that that was her last attempt. After that, she didn’t call home anymore, but she did try first, Suzanne. She did. My mother wouldn’t just abandon her loved ones.”

Lilly kept quiet during the whole discussion, feeling like a fly on the wall, but more than ever, she agreed with Quinn. Richard Phillips had made it difficult for Maggie, for whatever reasons he felt were right.

“Goodness, I had no idea,” Suzanne said, palm to her chest. She bent her head and pushed the tissue to her mouth. “But it doesn’t surprise me. My father has always been a lockbox of secrets. And now she’s gone. I’ll never see her again. I can’t believe it.” She dropped her face and began to sob into her hands.

Quinn reached out and hugged her across the chairs. He said nothing, just held Suzanne, and Lilly felt hot tears rising into her eyes as well. She couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to have family so close, yet so far.

Suddenly, the older woman stood and walked over to a small cellar she kept in her office. It was like a closet with a few steps leading down. She paused at a dark cabinet and removed a set of keys from her pocket, thumbing through them until she found a small, gold one. Pressing it into the keyhole and turning, she reached into the back of the cabinet and wrapped her hand around a golden bottle of what Lilly guessed was chardonnay. “Here, take this please. I would invite you to stay a while longer, but everyone is arriving, and my attention is needed outside.”

“Sure, no problem,” Quinn mumbled, still stunned, reaching out for the bottle of wine. Lilly leaned over to get a look and saw a gold family label with the name Maggie’s Valley right on the front. “What’s this?”

Suzanne locked up the cabinet, closed the cellar door, then shuffled over and placed a red, manicured fingernail on the label. “A long time ago, my father named some of his wines after my mother and sisters. This was Maggie’s. After she moved to Ireland, he pulled them off the shelves—every last one. I found them one day, while looking for some old menus I wanted to revise, in a big box in the trash. Took them home. Still have them all, but I keep one here with all my special labels.” She smiled and gestured to it. “You can have it.”

Lilly watched Quinn shake his head and break down right there in the middle of Suzanne’s office. “Why didn’t you talk to your father, convince him to let her talk to you all or visit?” Quinn demanded to know. “You were on my mam’s side the whole time, but…”

“But I didn’t do enough, I know,” Suzanne interrupted. “You’ve never met your grandfather, Quinn. It’s his way or the highway. I’m sure you’ve heard,” she said to Lilly.

Lilly widened her eyes and nodded. She didn’t feel this was the time nor place to talk about it, but she’d heard of Richard Phillips’ hard ways her whole life, seen him at church and town meetings, but she’d always been intimidated by him. “Thank you for your time, Suzanne. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate it,” she said, handing Quinn a tissue.

He pressed it to his eyes then quickly tossed the tissue into a trash can by the desk. “Yes, thank you for this. I’ll take it home to show my brothers. You have four more nephews, you know.”

“Goodness!” Suzanne said, standing and showing them to the door. There, she paused and reached up to caress Quinn’s face. “Yes, but I bet none of them have Maggie’s smile like you do. Thank you for coming by, Quinn. I’ll try talking some sense into my father. It’s the least that I owe you.”

They thanked her once again and headed out. Lilly wasn’t sure if she’d done the right thing by stopping by the winery last night and talking to the first family member she could about Maggie O’Neill, but she was glad it’d been Suzanne and not Beatriz or Old Man Phillips himself walking through the foyer. When they reached the cool outdoor air, and Quinn took a long, cleansing breath again, pulling her in tight and muttering a “thank you” into her hair, she knew it’d been the right choice.

As soon as they returned from Phillips Winery, Quinn told her he’d be calling his brothers about extending his and Con’s stay in America and mobilizing the others to join them to spread their mam’s ashes. Later, he told her Brady and the “wee ones” were making plans to arrive in America in just over a week.

Lilly laughed. “How wee are we talking?” she asked.

“Twenty-three, both of em—twins.” She smiled, imagining two younger versions of Quinn. She couldn’t wait to meet the rest of the O’Neill men.

For the next week, Lilly worked and met with Quinn, worked and showed Quinn around, worked and snuck Quinn into her room every chance she got. When she was working, Quinn and Con took their time exploring Green Valley and the surrounding areas.

On Thursday morning, when her mother announced she and Mellie and Cook would be leaving for the day, attending a bridal show in San Francisco in the evening, Lilly checked the register. The only guests who’d stayed on from the day before were Quinn and Con, and the next wave of guests wouldn’t be arriving until the afternoon. She still had baking to do, but for the first time, it looked like she might actually be able to work and play at the same time. Thrilled at the prospect, she knocked on Quinn’s door, greeted Conor with a handful of two chocolate chip muffins, and asked for Quinn.

He emerged freshly-showered in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt like he was going somewhere special. Although she had seen his eyes every day for almost two weeks now, she still got giddy upon seeing him. And by the huge grin on his face, it seemed he was equally glad to see her. “Are you doing anything right now?”

He cocked a brow. “I can think of one thing I’d like to be doing.”

She laughed. Little did he know how similar their thoughts were. “Well, I’ve been meaning to try a few new recipes before heading out to Miami. Want to keep talking in the kitchen, or were you going somewhere? By the way, you look nice,” she said, kissing him again. “Really hot, actually.”

He chuckled. “Nah, not going anywhere. This was just my last clean shirt.”

“Well, it’s fine by me. Come on.” She clasped her hand into his and guided him down the hallway. When they reached the kitchen, she pointed to a stool and said, “Sit.”

Quinn barked deeply like a Rottweiler, which made her laugh, as well. “Yes, madam.”

“It’s ma’am. Say it like this, like a cowboy—ma’am. You’re in the good ol’ U.S. of A. now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, drawling like a proper Southern gentleman wearing spurs and a cowboy hat.

“There you go! That was awesome!” She giggled, pulling out a bevy of assorted ingredients and laying them all over the counter. All of a sudden, a vision of her and Quinn cooking side-by-side in their own kitchen formed in her mind. Staring at the sugar canister, she lightly traced her finger across the lid. “Quinn? You mentioned you’d considered buying Mulligan’s Pub, but you haven’t mentioned it since. Was that just a whim, here then gone?”

He’d been playing with a frozen pack of mango pulp, but when she asked the question, he froze and looked up at her. “It wasn’t a whim, and the idea’s not exactly gone but…”

Upon hearing the qualification, she held her breath, wondering if he was about to tell her he’d decided to move back to Dublin. Wondering what that would mean for them.

“But when I think too long about it, the idea of actually buying the pub makes me nervous. I have lots of ideas, ideas I told my dad about, only he didn’t believe in them, and I can’t help wondering if he was right not to. Plus, while I really enjoyed the work I did managing the family restaurant in Dublin, what if it was because I didn’t feel I had any other choice? What if I invest all the money I have in my own place and a few months later, I realize it wasn’t what I wanted after all? And what about my brothers? I’m close to them, Lil. One or two might decide to stay in America with me, but what about the others? To live that far away…”

His voice trailed off when he realized she was smiling, not because his fears were silly, but because they mirrored all the ‘what ifs’ she’d run through her own mind over the years.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…you sound just like me. That day on the beach in Jenner. Second guessing yourself. Cataloging the ‘what if’s’. Do you remember what you said to me then?”

“I said a lot of things that day,” he admitted.

“Yes, you did. Very wise things. But probably the wisest thing you said was ‘For crikey’s sake, you cross that bridge when you get there.’ The same applies to all those questions you just threw out, Quinn. If it’s really your dream to open a restaurant, do it, then answer each of those questions only when you need to.”

He leaned into her and pulled her hips against him. “You know, that is very wise advice. I should listen to myself more often.”

They kissed, and suddenly, frozen coldness touched her cheek. She shrieked.

“What is this anyway?” Quinn said, holding up the frozen pulp bag.

“Mango. I wanted to try a mango-coconut cupcake recipe. Thought it would be tropical enough to impress Guy Santoli, though I just know the ingredients over there will be better. In Miami, I can find some key limes to add a little zest to the frosting, but for experimental purposes, this will do.” She picked up the mango packet and sliced it open with a sharp knife, then broke off a little corner piece and held it to Quinn’s delicious lips. “Open,” she said.

He reeled her in with his arms and opened his mouth just enough for her to see his tongue and make his lips look plump and inviting. She kissed him, softly at first, then a little deeper while feeding him the piece of frozen mango pulp. “Mmm…”

“You like it?” she asked.

“I like you,” he replied. “I like this game. What else you got?”

Lilly thought about it. She’d never had sex in a kitchen before but had always wanted to. “I have lots of things I can make you try,” she said, reaching across the counter for a jar of California orange honey. Cracking it open, she leaned into Quinn, noting the way he bit his lip, looking amused, and reached behind him to grab a strawberry.

“I like the way you think, little darlin’,” he said, continuing with his cowboy theme.

With a paring knife, she hulled the strawberry then scooped it through the surface of the orange honey, bringing the sinful treat to his lips. He sank his teeth through it and closed his eyes, reveling in the exquisite combination of flavors. Unable to just watch, Lilly pressed her body against his chest, between his open knees, and covered his mouth with hers, tasting the sweetness on his tongue and lips.

They went through several food tests this way, from marshmallow to chocolate to peanut butter and banana, and every kiss got sweeter and sweeter. The dress shirt was lovely and all, and really did look smashing on him, but it had to go. After slowly unbuttoning it, she pulled apart the halves to display that ridiculously awesome rugby chest of his that drove her crazy, dipped a finger into the jar of orange honey again and drew a line from his neck all the way down to his waistline.

“So much for a shower,” he muttered through another kiss.

“We can always take another one. In fact, I think we should put that on our list of things to do next,” she said, her whole body on wet fire. God, she was going to miss him when it was time to go, but more and more, she felt—no, knew in her heart—they could actually do it: date long distance while she was in Miami then figure out where to go from there.

“I love this idea, and since you haven’t actually gotten around to baking anything, I suggest…we go fulfill this shower idea right away.” He kissed her cheek, grazing his lips all the way to her ear, making her skin prickle with heat all over.

“Let’s go,” Lilly said seductively. “But first…” She took a step back, slipped out of her T-shirt and jeans, leaving on her bra and panties underneath her pink and black apron, and raised her arms out wide. “How do I look?” she asked.

“Good enough to eat,” Quinn said, his eyes roving over her, nostrils flaring with restrained desire.

But then, Lilly heard the familiar jingle of keys on the side kitchen door. “Quick!” she said, reaching for her clothes and doing her best to throw them back on in the two and a half seconds she was afforded before her mother came waddling into the room with arms full of bags. “Mom!”

Mom stopped cold, her eyes flitting from Quinn to Lilly and back to Quinn, who’d abandoned his stool to stand.

“Mom,” Lilly said, stepping into her jeans. “I thought you were heading into San Fran.”

“I’ve texted and called you like eight times,” her mother said, and a moment later, Avery Benson appeared, along with Cook and Mellie, all carrying the same boxes of goodies, supplies, banners, and tablecloths they had packed for the bridal show. “I wasn’t feeling well and decided to skip the expo. Figured we’d pick up groceries on the way back.”

Avery’s slim form appeared in the doorway, amazed, bemused, and she let her bags plop with a loud thud onto the kitchen floor. Her wide eyes took in Quinn standing half naked in the middle of the Russian River House kitchen. “Well…well…what do we have here?”

Catching Lilly’s eye, Quinn reached for her hand in solidarity, but something inside Lilly froze. Maybe it was because her mother and Avery were standing there, judging her, or maybe because it was difficult to rewire a brain that had spent a whole life fearing them both, fearing the judgment that came with living in a small town, but she couldn’t take his hand. “Alright, you’ve seen enough,” Lilly hissed, crossing her arms over her chest. “You can go now.”

“I can go?” her mother sassed. “You’re in my kitchen.”

“Um, this is my kitchen, for your information. The only thing you ever do in it is drop groceries.”

“I see. I love your new attitude, Lillian. Where’d you get it? Ireland?”

Lilly glared at her mother. “I didn’t get it anywhere,” she said. “And we weren’t doing anything wrong. I’ll clean up now. I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry? God, she hated the sound of her own voice sometimes.

“Weren’t doing anything wrong? Could’ve fooled us, Lillian,” Avery said. “Next thing you know, you’ll be gone and never speaking to your mom again. Some people are just influential that way. And just as disloyal.” Avery opened up boxes and began pulling items out to put away.

Lilly couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How embarrassing! Quinn would never want to live here now that he saw firsthand what some people were like. Lilly knew she should say something, stand her ground and defend Quinn. He hadn’t done anything to deserve this hatred, and besides, he’d been a paying customer for two weeks now too.

Anything, say anything, her brain screamed at her.

But Mom had her where she wanted her—her gaze a magnetic hold of guilt. Lilly would perpetually feel eight years old whenever she was around. Her mouth couldn’t move, and she knew she would live to regret it.

Tell them. Tell them you love Quinn. That you’re together and intend to stay together.

By the time she got around to forming a sentence encompassing what she felt, Quinn had slipped out of the kitchen.