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The Mighty Quinns: Dermot-Dex
The Mighty Quinns: Dermot-Dex
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The Mighty Quinns: Dermot-Dex

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They’d been together for just over a week and his desire for her hadn’t cooled. After their first time at the creek, they’d indulged at least once a day, sometimes twice, finding a private hour or two outside of the workday.

Either Uncle Eddie had been too distracted to notice what was going on or he didn’t care. But Dermot was beginning to think that Eddie might be holding out hopes that Dermot would choose to stay at the end of his six-week term. He’d found more time to train Benny the goat to do little tricks.

Rachel glanced up at him and he winked at her. She looked so pretty, dressed in a pale blue sundress and a wide-brimmed straw hat. He’d come into her world here at the fair, a world that he was completely unfamiliar with, and he’d seen the respect the children and teenagers had for her.

Rachel wasn’t the typical farmer. In truth, she was probably a role model for many of the girls, a single woman trying to make it on a farm all by herself. One of the girls walked over to her and Rachel put an arm around her as they spoke. She laughed and Dermot smiled to himself. She was the prettiest woman at the fair, that much was certain.

“So, I’m done here,” she said. “We have the rest of the afternoon to ourselves. What would you like to see first?”

“I’ve kind of liked watching you,” he said, taking hold of her hand. “You’re pretty amazing.”

“Thanks,” she said. “But you see me every day. I think we should start with food. Funnel cakes first, then cream puffs.”

“What is a funnel cake?”

“You’ll see,” she said. She unlatched the gate on the pen and slipped out, one of the goats nipping at her skirt as she left.

They walked hand in hand down a long aisle of food trucks. There was fresh lemonade and deep-fried cheese and corn dogs and cotton candy. Every trailer they passed had something that Dermot wanted to eat. When they reached the stand for the funnel cakes, he looked at the picture and wrinkled his nose.

“What is this?”

“It’s really good,” she said. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

“It looks like a pile of poo. What are you going to make me eat?”

“It’s deep-fried batter. Kind of like a donut only shaped like a little mountain. And they cover it with powdered sugar and you eat it while it’s—”

“I think we need to go back to that place with the deep-fried cheese. I’ve developed a real fondness for cheese.”

Rachel ordered a funnel cake, then held it out to him. Dermot reluctantly took a bite. The dough was hot and crispy and it melted in his mouth. “Oh, God, that’s, like, the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

She looked at him and giggled. “You have powdered sugar all over your face.”

“Do I?” Dermot grinned. “Kiss it off.”

Rachel grabbed a napkin and wiped his face. “You behave yourself,” she warned. “Or I’ll have to take you home early and put you to bed.”

They sat down on a picnic table on one of the covered patios and continued to pick at the funnel cake. “I found something that I want to show you,” he said.

Rachel glanced over at him. “What is it?”

“An idea. I know it’s really not my place, but I’ll just mention it and you can do what you want with it.”

She watched him warily. “All right. What is it?”

He reached into his pocket and withdrew the bar of soap, setting it in front of her. “This is goat’s milk soap. They’re selling these at a booth for five dollars a bar. They make the soap with pretty ordinary ingredients. It’s not difficult. You could do it in your kitchen.”

“You want me to make soap?”

“Not necessarily. I think you could market soap. It could bring in some extra money for the farm. Maybe make things a little easier.”

“What’s the difference between selling it and marketing it?”

“The soap could be made somewhere else. But you could design the packaging and then market it to natural-food stores and bath boutiques using the farm’s name. It’s really all about the packaging and you could do a nice job with that.” He shrugged. “I guess, if you’re interested, I could do some research for you. See if it would be profitable?”

She stared down at the bar of soap, turning it over and over in her hands. “I—I don’t know. It is a really good idea. I—I just don’t know if it’s right… for me.”

“I just thought if you were going to stay, this might be something that…” He forced a smile, then reached out and took her hand. “I want to help you, Rachel. I want you to be happy.”

Rachel nodded, then stood, smoothing her hands over her skirt. “I think we should see a little more of the fair.”

Dermot tried to read her mood. She seemed open to his suggestion, but at the same time, she looked sad… or worried. He wasn’t sure which. It wouldn’t have to mean more work for her. Maybe he hadn’t explained it the right way.

Her mood lightened as they ate their way up one side and down the other side of the food area. By the time they finished, Dermot was stuffed. Though he enjoyed fine dining in some of Seattle’s best restaurants, he had to admit that this was one of the best meals he’d ever eaten. Considering the company, he wasn’t surprised.

“Exhibits next or rides?” Rachel asked.

“Not rides,” he said. “I need to give myself some time to digest.”

She laughed. “I’ve never seen anyone eat so much.”

“I wanted to try everything,” he said.

“We haven’t even started with the brats and sweet corn yet.”

Dermot draped his arm around her shoulders. “What I’d really like is to go home. I’d like to take off all my clothes and turn on the fans and lie down on your bed and spend the rest of the day… digesting. Oh, wait, I meant to say kissing you.”

“One more thing,” she said, taking his hand.

They finished their day with a ride on the Ferris wheel, enjoying a rare moment of quiet together as they were swept up above the crowd and then back down into the bustle. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.

“This was a good day,” he murmured, Rachel tucked in the crook of his arm.

“It was,” she said.

“I think I tasted everything.”

“We didn’t even get to the baked potatoes. And there are chocolate éclairs and barbecued chicken and grilled cheese sandwiches and—”

Dermot groaned as he put his hand over her mouth.

“Stop.”

Rachel reached out and patted his belly. “You can work it all off in the barn.”

“And in bed,” Dermot added.

They got off the Ferris wheel and headed toward the parking area where they’d left the pickup. Dermot held her hand as they walked, uninterested in the displays they passed and intent on getting back to the farm as soon as possible. They passed a booth for solar-heating systems and the guy behind the counter stared at Rachel for a long moment.

“Rachel? Rachel Howe?”

Rachel stopped and turned, frowning at first before a wide smile broke across her face. “Danny! Oh, my gosh. Look at you!”

“Look at you,” he said.

The man stepped from behind the counter and held out his arms. Dermot felt a surge of jealousy and watched warily as they greeted each other.

“What are you doing here?”

“Business,” he said. “I’ve got a solar-heating and wind-power operation I run out of Janesville.” He grabbed a brochure and handed it to her.

Rachel flipped through it, nodding approvingly. “Gosh, I haven’t seen you since high school.”

“I barely recognized you. I wouldn’t have except for that smile. I could never forget that smile. Are you back for a visit?”

“I’m running my parents’ farm now. We’ve got our goats over at the 4-H petting zoo.” She turned to Dermot. “This is my—my friend Dermot Quinn. He works at the farm. He’s visiting from Seattle.”

Danny held out his hand. “Danny Mathison,” he said, introducing himself. “Seattle. Great city. I’ve been there a couple of times.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dermot said, trying to sound friendly. He didn’t like the way Danny was looking at Rachel.

Danny quickly turned his attention back to her. “So, you’re living in the area. That’s good. And you’re still single?”

“Yes,” she said, a pretty blush staining her cheeks.

“Me, too. Hey, we should get together some night. Get some dinner and maybe catch a movie. Maybe play a little saxophone?”

“That would be great,” Rachel said with a laugh. “Everything except for the saxophone.”

“Then I’ll give you a call,” he said. Danny leaned close and kissed her cheek. “It was really great seeing you again. You’re in the book?”

“Right where I’ve always been,” she said.

“Good.” He grinned. “Great.”

Rachel said goodbye and she and Dermot continued on toward the parking lot. “‘That would be great’?” Dermot parroted. “‘Hey, we should get together some night.’ You know what he meant, don’t you? We should get together?”

“I think he wants to go out for dinner and a movie,” Rachel said.

“No, that’s not what he’s got on his mind. He’s thinking you’re all alone on the farm and he’s going to swoop in and show you a good time and he’s going to get some.”

Rachel laughed out loud. “Get some? Like you’ve been getting some?”

“No, not like that. With us, it’s a mutual thing.”

“And what makes you think it wouldn’t be a mutual thing with him?” Rachel asked, her eyebrow cocked up quizzically.

“So you want to go out with him?”

“Maybe. He’s an old friend, he’s kind of cute and he’s got a good job. And he is geographically available, unlike you.”

“I’m here.”

“But you won’t be in another month,” she said. “Am I supposed to live like a nun after you leave?”

“Yes,” Dermot said. “That would be exactly how you should live.”

“You’re jealous,” she said.

“Damn right I am.”

Rachel shook her head. “You don’t have to be. I’m not going to go out with Danny. I’m kind of having a little fling with this farmhand. And he takes up all my time and energy.”

Dermot grinned. “All right. That’s better. And what was that stuff about playing the saxophone? What did he mean by that?”

“We used to sit next to each other in band,” Rachel explained. She slipped her arm around his. “Gosh, I went an entire year without a single guy even noticing me and now I’ve got two interested. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

DARK CLOUDS ROLLED IN right after breakfast, and the rain came down in sheets. Rachel had hoped to bale hay now that she had someone to work the wagon. But with the rain, it would be at least another week before the cut alfalfa would be dry enough to bale.

Dermot had been out in the barn, trying to repair a broken gate, and she’d been tempted to join him. But they’d spent so much time together that she was beginning to find it hard to think about anything but him.

He’d been at the farm for three weeks and yet it seemed as if they’d already spent a lifetime together. She’d grown so accustomed to having him around, grown to depend on him when things seemed to get impossible.

But if the days were good, the nights were even better. Once the sun went down, they lived in a sexy, delicious dream in which Dermot Quinn turned her into a wild, wanton woman. A month ago, she’d fantasized about a man who’d pull her into his arms and kiss her without a second thought, but never, in all her dreams had she actually expected it to happen.

And though the sex wasn’t strange or kinky, it was powerfully addictive. When he touched her, there was always an earth-shattering reaction. She wanted him to brush aside her clothes and kiss her naked skin, to pull her to the bed and seduce her until she trembled at his touch. Until desire bubbled up inside of her and she begged him to continue. Until she was completely and utterly spent, rid of every last bit of need.

How could she possibly live without him? She stared down at her accounting book, then slammed it shut. Why couldn’t she just enjoy Dermot while he was here? Why did her thoughts always turn to the future?

“Forget it,” she muttered. The last thing she needed in her life was another complication. Though sleeping with Dermot was very pleasant and more than satisfying, it wouldn’t be wise to succumb to such a powerful addiction. She’d just have to keep her emotions in check. Falling in love with him would be the biggest mistake she could ever make.

Rachel reached out and grabbed the recipe for goat’s milk soap that Dermot had found on the internet. She stared at it for a long moment. He’d gone out and purchased all the ingredients, but left it to her to decide what she wanted to do.

She pushed back from the table and found her sketch pad on the counter. Her box of colored pencils sat next to it and she retrieved them both, then sat back down. She ought to work on her greeting cards, since she’d fallen behind on the publisher’s schedule. But she’d been toying with an idea for a label, yet was reluctant to put it to paper.

Was it worth the time? She hadn’t even decided to stay on the farm and this was a project that would require a complete commitment to a future at Clover Meadow. But then, doing a drawing wasn’t exactly going to cost her anything.

She bent over her sketchbook and began, focusing on the perfect balance of text, graphics and illustration. She wasn’t aware of the time, but when she was finished, she glanced up at the clock. She’d done the entire label in less than fifteen minutes.

“Nice,” she murmured.

Rachel found a bar of hand soap under the sink and wrapped the new label around it. Her parents would have loved the idea. Her mother might have enjoyed making the soap herself and her father would have been tickled to know that goat’s milk could be used in a new way.

The screen door squeaked and she glanced over her shoulder to see Dermot standing in the doorway. He was soaking wet, water dripping off his hair and puddling around his muddy boots.

“If you’re going to come in the house, you have to take off your clothes on the porch,” she warned. “I just washed the floor.”

“I can do that,” he said, tugging off his T-shirt and tossing it aside. Bracing his arm on the door-jamb, he kicked off his boots, then moved to unbutton his jeans.