Page 26 of What Love Can Do

Downstairs, she knocked on his door and waited. She knocked again, thinking how much her mother would kill her if she saw Lilly disturbing the guests, especially these guests. There was a groan and a shuffling noise, and then the door clicked open, and holy hell, Quinn’s brother, Con, was gorgeous in his own lanky, green-eyed, bare-chested right. If she were a saucier woman, she’d have thrown caution to the wind and taken them both.

“So you’ve settled on the better-looking brother, have you? Finally came to your senses.” Con raised one arm against the door frame and yawned into his bicep.

“I’m…uh…so sorry to disturb you. I thought maybe Quinn was here,” Lilly said, averting her eyes to gaze down the hallway then discovering that her eyes had a mind of their own, as they sprung back to Con, standing there in his boxers and nothing else. Obviously he had a bit less modesty than his older brother when it came to answering his door, but didn’t these Irish boys ever sleep naked? Wouldn’t it be nice if they ever answered the door full monty?

“Sweetheart, I’m already disturbed, so no worries there, and…my brother, eh?” Con raised his brows and nodded cheekily. “So you prefer boring, wimpy men then. It’s alright, Lilly. Your secret’s safe with me.” He smiled a rascally grin that reminded her of Han Solo from all the Star Wars movies her father used to make her watch when she was little.

When Quinn had read from his mother’s journal, and then mentioned Ken, her father, her eyeballs had almost popped out. Yet she’d failed to say anything, not only to protect Quinn from knowing what Lilly’s mother thought of Maggie Phillips stealing her man, but also to protect her memories of her father. She could only imagine what Quinn’s mom might have said in her journal to justify throwing Lilly’s father over for Grant O’Neill. Truthfully, she didn’t have to imagine too hard. Her father hadn’t been overly passionate or funny or adventurous. He’d been on the nerdy side, no doubt about it. But Lilly and her mother hadn’t cared. Because while her father had often been serious and quiet and socially awkward, he’d also been warm and giving and tried to show them everyday how much they were loved. Yet now, Lilly had to admit, she’d always sensed on some level that her father had been waiting for something, or someone, to return. She’d dismissed the feeling as nonsense, but knowing what she did now, she could see how her mother, sensing that same thing, would have been cut to the bone.

“Lil?”

The sound of Con’s voice startled her back to the present. “Sorry. It’s just, Quinn mentioned a few spots he planned on visiting but I saw your rental car. Do you know where he went?”

Con studied her more intently, as if he could draw out the truth of Lilly’s feelings for his brother with the strength of his mind. Then his expression cleared and he was back to being his laid-back self. “Probably brooding in a corner or skulking somewhere. I’m sure if you play a violin loud enough, he might find his way to you.” Con yawned again and tapped the door frame. “I really have to get back to bed, though. I’m bushed. You’re still in time to change your mind. Oh! And this might belong to you…” He ambled over to the nightstand, plucked something off, and handed her a tiny silver hooped earring.

She felt both ears and indeed found one earring to be missing. Her ears also felt warm and flushed. “Wow, thanks. That’s not embarrassing at all.” She laughed nervously.

“No worries. See you later, Lil.” He flashed a sexy smile then closed the door.

“Jesus,” Lilly muttered under her breath and headed to the living room. One sweeping glance around confirmed the Delfinos sitting on a couch by the bay window and a gay couple from Phoenix sharing tea across from them. She waved at everyone then retreated to the kitchen. Doing her best to blend in, evade Mellie’s questions and act like she wasn’t doing anything special, she packed her small picnic basket, a couple of lemonades from their guest fridge, and headed out, wondering, briefly, if Quinn would even be happy to see her if she were to run into him.

Finding him was easy. He was sitting on the front stoop, reading his mother’s journal. “Hey!” Lilly said breezily, as though she hadn’t been looking for him everywhere.

He looked up, pleasantly surprised. “How’s the craic?”

“The craic is great! How’s your craic? I mean…”

Quinn stood, gazed down at her, and for a moment, her stomach flipped, thinking he wasn’t going to acknowledge their history, as brief as it was. But he smiled, whipped her into a long hug that felt both intimately breathtaking and comforting at the same time, and whispered, “Been thinking about you.”

Relief washed through her. He wasn’t going to pretend they hadn’t made love twice.

That deserved a reward. She squeezed his arm with her free hand, then pulled away enough to look into his eyes with the dark, long lashes. Damn him for having prettier lashes than her. “Been thinking about you too. In fact…” She hesitated. She was about to share one of her secret, most favorite spots with him. “Did you find the bridge?”

“The bridge?”

“Yeah, the one your mom wrote about. You were going to look for it today,” she reminded him.

“Oh, no, I didn’t. You’d think a bridge over a river would be easy to find, but no go.”

“That’s because it’s over a creek,” Lilly said.

He cocked his head at her. “You know where it is?”

She nodded. “I can show it to you now…if you want.”

His face seemed to progress from stunned, to happily surprised, to wonder and joy. “That would be amazing. Is that picnic basket coming with us?”

“Indeed, it is,” she said, sauntering down the steps toward her car, parked on the street.

He followed her like an excited puppy. “Why didn’t you tell me about the bridge before I spent an entire day looking for it?”

Lilly looked back at him over her shoulder. “I wanted to make you work for it.” She smiled, not telling him the truth—that something had made her hold back. Something that had since gone away. She’d made love to this man twice now and things felt different. He wasn’t going to snow her. The deed had been done, and he was still interested in her.

“Ah, so that’s how it is,” he laughed. “Alright…alright.”

Climbing into her Honda Fit, they pulled out and drove off toward an area she hadn’t been to since before her father died. Going to Langley Creek would open up some fresh wounds. The drive only took about five minutes, but she had to drive off-road, over gravel patches, and through a tunnel of trees. She stopped, cut the engine, and stared ahead at the small wooden bridge spanning across a small river valley. “That’s it right there,” she said, watching Quinn’s eyes light up. “The bridge your mom dangled her feet over.”

Slowly, he got out of the car and closed the door, his eyes on the old bridge. “How do you figure?”

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