Page 8 of What Love Can Do

Quinn watched her walk away, trying to figure out what just happened. One moment, she seemed shy and nervous, and the next, she was winking, inviting him to try her famous muffins, like a paper doll trying on different styles of clothes. How famous were these muffins exactly? “Sounds lovely.” He was unable to contain his smile, nor did he want to.

When he stood, his head felt light, and it hit him all of a sudden just how exhausted he was. The tea may have tasted like piss water, but it had somewhat lull him into a relaxed state with the help of some nice conversation with the innkeeper’s daughter. In his room, he kicked off his shoes, undressed down to his scunders, and laid on the bed.

“Feck,” he said and closed his eyes. What a day it’d been.

He thought of the plane ride, of landing at LaGuardia and hearing the New Yorker accents, of arriving in San Francisco and driving through wine country. He thought of the grand scope of scenery, how different America looked on both coasts, even though he hadn’t seen much yet. Then, he thought of the first thing he noticed when he walked into the inn—the gorgeous blonde, craning her neck for another look at him.

She should be the one manning the welcome desk. Out in the open for all guests to admire, not tucked away and hidden. What a fine woman.

A light tap at his door pulled him out of his ebbing slumber. Groggily, he rose and moved to open it, then realized he was still in his skivvies. Imagining Lilly’s mom on the other side of the door, he wrangled himself back into his jeans before answering.

Lilly stood there, wringing her hands. “Um…” Her eyes dropped to his body—his naked chest and his jeans, which he’d zipped but hadn’t bothered to button. She swallowed hard. “I’m…so sorry…I just…” She blushed and averted her eyes down the hallway. Then looked at his chest and jeans again. “Um…”

Quinn smiled, enjoying the way he was making Lilly squirm where she stood, rooted to her spot. At the same time, however, he shifted slightly behind the door to hide the rather intense effect she was having on his body with her naughty looks.

“I’m sorry, Lil,” he half-whispered. “But you can’t come in. Normally I’m up for anything, but you see my brother’s not the soundest of sleepers…” Just then Con’s snoring rent the air. Quinn smiled wider and leaned toward her. “On second thought, I’ll just kick the little maggot out. Perhaps you brought a late night snack of those muffins you were telling me about.”

He made a production of looking for something she’d brought with her, even though he could plainly see her hands were empty. “Ah, just as well. I wouldn’t want to share anything you’d brought for me, you see…”

Lilly tilted her chin up and rolled her eyes, indicating she knew he was kidding and having none of it.

Quinn burst out laughing.

“I just came by to tell you…to invite you…to let you know that I can show you and your brother around tomorrow.” Her blue eyes turned back to his face, intense and focused on remaining there by force. “If you want. But I think I’ve changed my mind.”

Oh, he wanted, alright. Right now he wanted a whole lot. But he’d settle on Lilly’s offer of a tour for now. “That’d be grand! And please don’t change your mind. I’m tuckered from flying, and my brain’s a mess. I was just having a bit of fun between new friends.”

She harrumphed but he could see the amusement in her expression. He’d always loved a girl with a good sense of humor. “Well, alright. But I won’t be taking it easy on you tomorrow,” she said, then groaned and closed her eyes almost immediately.

Instead of shooting out another sexual innuendo, he simply said, “Please don’t. And we’ll look forward to spending tomorrow with you. Right after I try your famous muffins, of course.” Quinn winked devilishly. “See you then, Lilly.”

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.

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