The Mighty Quinns: Dermot-Dex

“Are you almost done up there?”

He looked down to find Rachel standing at the foot of the ladder. “Almost,” he called.

“Good, because you make me nervous up that high.”

He climbed down and jumped the last three steps, landing beside her. “Do you have another job for me to do?”

“Yes,” she said.

“I’m not done with this job yet.”

“It’s time for lunch,” she said. “I thought we might have a picnic. There’s a place I want to show you. It’s my favorite place on this whole farm.”

“I need to wash my hands and I’ll be ready to go.”

They returned to the kitchen and Rachel grabbed a picnic basket and a blanket. He wiped his clean hands on a towel, then took the basket from her. “Lead on,” he said.

“Thank you for cleaning the gutters,” she said as they walked down the steps. “I tried a couple of times to climb that ladder, but I couldn’t get past the sixth step. You’re very brave.”

“Try hanging from the top of the mast in a bosun’s chair under full sail in a choppy sea,” he said. “This was nothing.”

“I have no idea what you just said,” Rachel replied, laughing.

“Let’s just say, I’m a man of many talents. Milking goats, toting bales, kissing beautiful women in piles of straw.”

She stopped in front of him. “You don’t think this is strange, do you? I just met you yesterday. I don’t really even know you and we’ve been… intimate. And it doesn’t bother me.”

“Sometimes it just happens like that,” he said.

“Fate.”

“Has it ever happened to you? Because it’s never happened to me.”

“No,” Dermot replied. “This would be the first time.”

“It’s like we already knew each other. We didn’t start from the beginning, we started in the middle.”

He bent close and kissed her. “I just know how I feel. And this feels… just right.”

She pushed up on her toes and kissed him back, then frowned. “Did you get breakfast this morning? We didn’t have dinner last night, did we? When did you last eat?”

“I had your burned cherry pie in the middle of the night and I had cereal for breakfast.”

“I’ve been doing a terrible job of feeding you,” Rachel said.

“I’m not starving,” he replied. “In fact, I’m perfectly satisfied at the moment.”

“We really should get to know each other a little better,” she said, walking backward, the blanket swinging from her hand.

Her pale hair was loose and blew in the breeze. Dermot’s breath caught as he watched her. He’d never seen a more beautiful creature. Everything about her was designed just for his eyes. “Then tell me something I don’t know.”

“I played the saxophone in the high school band,” she said. “And I was pretty good. Except I hated marching at the football games.”

Dermot chuckled. “Really? I would have never guessed. Tell me something else.”

“I was the president of my 4-H club. And it wasn’t just all about goats. I won grand prize at the county fair for a quilt I made and for my strawberry preserves.”

Dermot chuckled. She really was a farm girl at heart. After only a day, he’d come to appreciate the simplicity of life at Clover Meadow. There was no racing from place to place, no people to see or phone calls to take. It was a quiet life, though the burden of responsibility was greater. He sold boats for lots of money. She cared for sixty-some living creatures.

“Now you have to tell me something,” Rachel said.

“I’d rather hear more about you.”

“No fair.”

“All right. I broke my arm falling out of a tree when I was thirteen.”

“What were you doing in the tree?”

“My twin brother dared me to climb to the very top. We did a lot of that when we were kids. Dares and double dares and triple dares. I was almost down and then I slipped and fell.”

“You have a twin brother?”

Dermot nodded. “Kieran. We’re almost identical twins. We do look a lot alike, except I’m much more handsome.”

She sighed softly. “I wish I were closer to my siblings. We’ve just never really known each other. I have two nieces who are older than me. And when I was young I had an imaginary friend named Rosalie. We were going to open a bakery together when we grew up.”

Rachel returned to his side, slipping her arm around his as she chatted about her childhood on the farm. Though it sounded idyllic, there was an undercurrent of loneliness in her stories. She never spoke of friends or parties or adventures. Every story was one of solitude.

“You sound like you loved the farm,” he said. “Was it difficult to leave for college?”

Rachel nodded. “I was ready to see a little bit of the world. And going to art school was my dream. I was only an hour away and I came home every other weekend. My parents were older and they needed my help.”

“And then you left after college?”

“I met a boy. His job took him to San Francisco and I had to make a choice. I thought it was right, but then it wasn’t. And then I met another man and we moved to New York and that didn’t work either.” She smiled. “I don’t have a very good history with men.”

“They were both idiots,” he said. “Tell me about these greeting cards that you make.”

“I don’t actually make them. I’m an illustrator. I provide the art and a publisher makes and sells them. It started with farm animals and silly puns. You know, like ‘Thinking of Ewe’ with an illustration of a sheep. E-W-E. You? They’re kind of whimsical and people just really liked them. They provide a nice living, although goat farming doesn’t allow much time for art.”

“Now that I’m here, that will change.”

As they walked out past the goat pastures, the landscape began to change. Rolling hills gave way to wooded areas and they followed a ridge, then walked through a wide field to a small grove of trees. To Dermot’s surprise, there was a wide creek running through the trees.

It was one of the most picturesque spots he’d ever seen, the water, the lush green trees and the blue sky above. “It’s like heaven,” he said. “When I’m out on the water, I think that it’s the most perfect place in the world. But you’re right, this is pretty perfect, too. I don’t see how you could let this go.”

“I know. I’m afraid if I do let it go, I won’t have anything left. This is really all I have for a home. Eddie and this farm. My sister and brothers don’t know me. At least when I’m here, I feel like I belong. And what would Eddie do? He’s lived here his whole life.”

“You wouldn’t have to be lonely.”

She shrugged. “You found me. I guess if I decide to stay, then I have to hope that someone else will find me, too.” Drawing a deep breath, she forced a smile. “So this is it,” she said. “I used to come here to draw when I was a kid.”

He glanced around. She was right. It was a scene out of a landscape painting—the tall trees, an old stone fence, a slow-moving creek. There were birds everywhere, singing from the boughs, and butterflies fluttered on the soft breeze. “I can see why you like it,” he said.

“Tell me about your favorite place,” she asked as she laid the blanket out on the ground.

He dropped the basket on the center of the blanket and sat down next to her. “I have way too many,” he said. “But they’re all someplace that can only be appreciated from the cockpit of my sailboat.”

“I’ve never been on a sailboat,” she said.

“Now, that’s a shame. Maybe we’ll have to do something about that.”

“Unfortunately, we don’t have any oceans around here.”

“You do have an awfully big lake not too far away. Maybe I’ll take you someday.” In truth, he wasn’t sure how that was going to happen. He had no money to rent a boat and no car to drive them there. He could barely afford to take her for ice cream at this point.

She opened the picnic basket and pulled out a sketchbook and pencil. Then she stared out at the scene in front of her.

“Can I see your drawings?” Dermot asked.

She handed him the book and he flipped through the pages. There were all sorts of wild animals—squirrels, rabbits, porcupines. They looked very realistic except for their funny faces. Dermot chuckled. “These are really good,” he said.

“I’m working on some little reptiles and amphibians,” she said. “And insects.” She reached over and turned to a drawing of a bee. “I think they’ll do pretty well. I met this publisher at a convention once and she told me I should be illustrating children’s books.”

“Do you ever draw people?”

“I used to, in art school.” She frowned. “I’m not sure if I can anymore.” She grabbed the book and set it on her lap. “Take your shirt off. And lie down. I’ll try drawing you.”

“I’m not sure I want to be on your new series of nude-men greeting cards.”

Rachel grinned. “That’s a good idea. I wonder if there’d be a market for them. Maybe mail order, but you couldn’t put them in a grocery store or a gift shop. Maybe an X-rated gift shop.” She frowned. “I’m not sure I’d want my cards sold next to dildos and vibrators, though.”

Dermot stretched out at the end of the blanket. “How’s this?”

She shook her head. “No, sit up and brace your arm right there.”

He did as he was told, but she shook her head again. “It would be better if you stood next to that rock over there.”

Dermot gave her a sly look. “Maybe it would be even better if I took my clothes off.”

“You’ll use any excuse to get naked,” she said. “But I think that might be a bit distracting for the artist. You can take your shoes off. I need practice with feet.”

He kicked off his shoes, then walked over to the rock and leaned against it. “How’s this?”

She tipped her head to the side. “Nice. Put your arms up over your head. And undo the top button of your jeans.” Rachel waited for him to comply, then began to sketch, her forehead creased into a frown.

Dermot stood perfectly still until his calf began to cramp and a bee started buzzing near his crotch. When he felt something slither across his foot, he jumped back. “Jaysus, what was that? Are there snakes around here?”

“Yes,” she said as she sketched. “But they’re not poisonous.” She sat back, then shook her head. “Nope.” With that, she tore the page out of the book and crumpled it into a ball.

“Wait, let me see.”

“No,” she said, grabbing the wad of paper. “I need to stick to animals.”

He sat down next to her and held out his hand. “Come on, Rachel. You can trust me. Let me see it.”

RACHEL WAS ALWAYS rather reluctant to let anyone see a work in progress, but she sensed that she could trust Dermot. She handed him the paper and he smoothed it out on the blanket in front of him. He studied it for a long moment, then nodded. “It’s really good.”

“It’s really horrible. The drawing, not you. You looked beautiful. I think I’ll stick to bunnies and frogs.”

He reached over and wrapped his hand around her waist, then pulled her into a kiss. “I can get behind that. I’d rather you didn’t start sketching naked men.”

“You weren’t naked,” she said.

“I can remedy that.”

“No,” she said, a playful smile touching her lips. “I’ll take care of it.” She reached for the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head. “Now, you sketch me. I showed you my drawing, now you show me yours.”

“I can’t draw,” he said. “My brother Cam, now, he can draw.”

She stretched out on the blanket beside him, bracing her head in her hand. The sun filtered through the leaves in the trees and felt warm on her bare skin. She smiled to herself.

There were times when, as a teenager, Rachel would come to this spot and put aside her sketchbook. She’d turn her thoughts to boys, to the secret crushes that she developed on classmates. She’d been an awkward girl with plain clothes, not the type that got noticed. A wallflower was the most apt description.

“I had my first kiss right here in this spot,” she said.

“Tell me all about it,” Dermot urged.

“I told a boy I liked that I’d found a huge piece of gold buried beneath this tree and I’d split the money for it if he’d help me carry it out. And then, when I got him here, I tried to kiss him.”

“What happened?”

“He hit me with a stick and told me I was as ugly as a toad. And then he ran away.”

“I’m not running,” Dermot said.

“You’re paid to stay,” she countered.

He set down the sketchbook and crawled across the blanket. “I’m not planning on going anywhere,” he said. “I’m not going to hit you with a stick and I think you’re just about the most beautiful thing I’ve ever set eyes on.”

Rachel smiled and pulled him into a deep kiss. He was charming and maybe he did know exactly what to say that made her feel like the only woman in the world. But she didn’t care. She’d been alone for too long and she was going to enjoy Dermot Quinn while she could.

Rachel pulled him down on top of her, their naked bodies coming together in a way that felt so perfect. His shaft was hard and hot between them, nestled in the juncture of her thighs. And here, alone, under the late-summer sun, she’d make a memory that she’d never forget. A memory of being with a stranger who felt more like a long-lost lover.

“Are we going to do this?” he whispered.

She drew her leg up along his hip, his body fitting ever closer. “We’re alone and we’re naked. It is the next logical step.”

“I came prepared,” he said.

Rachel brushed her lips against his and he captured her mouth in a long, delicious kiss. She’d never been with a man who was able to dissolve her insecurities and inhibitions. Was it the fact that they really didn’t know each other? Did that make it all so much easier?

There were no expectations between them, no arguments or fundamental differences. She didn’t know anything about his past, about the women in his life or his plans for the future. All Rachel knew was that in six weeks he’d be gone and she’d be alone again.

His body was hard and muscular and she couldn’t keep herself from touching him. Dermot held on to her waist and rolled her over on top of him, then pulled her knees up against his hips. A lazy smile curled his lips as he cupped her breast in his palm.

“I’ve never done this,” he said.

“Had sex?”

“No. Done it outside. I mean, I have done it in a tent, but never in the great wide open. What if someone comes along?”

“They’ll get an eyeful,” she said.

“I’ll be sure to make it good.”

He began a gentle, yet deliberate exploration of her body and Rachel closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of his caress. He knew exactly what he was doing, tracing a path from her lips to her breasts to the spot between her legs.

She was already damp with desire, and when he touched her there, a current shot through her body. Goose bumps prickled her sun-warmed skin and she felt a tremble inside her. She was already so close, but she didn’t want to surrender quite yet.

Rachel reached down and touched her lips to his, teasing him with a kiss that was both playful and filled with promise. Her tongue flicked across his bottom lip, and when he groaned, she smiled.

She’d never felt in control before, never felt as if she had anything to offer a man sexually, besides her body. But with Dermot, it all seemed so natural and in balance. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Rachel knew everything would change once they took this last step. Though their high-speed affair had taken an unconventional path, from now on, they’d know each other intimately. She’d be completely vulnerable to her feelings, to the effect he had on her body and her soul.

When he reached for his jeans, she knew what he wanted and she impatiently grabbed the packet from his hand. Waving it at him, she smiled. “You did come prepared.”

“I’ve been prepared since the first time we kissed,” he said.

“You knew this would happen?”

“I knew what I wanted. But I didn’t know that you’d want it, too.”

She tore open the condom package and gently sheathed him, smoothing her hands along the length of his shaft. Then, she positioned herself above him and held her breath as she slowly sank down.

The sensation of him inside her, buried deep, was almost more than she could bear. A gasp slipped from her lips and she felt the tension within her heighten at the thought of what they were about to do. She moved above him, and before she knew it, they’d begun a slow, steady rhythm.

Her mind focused on the spot where they were joined, and when he touched her there, Rachel knew how it all would end. Her pulse quickened along with her pace and he continued to tease her, each flick of his finger sending wild sensations coursing through her.

Her hair tumbled around her face and she tipped her head back and closed her eyes. The breeze warmed her skin and the leaves rustled above her head. There was no place on earth she’d rather be.

She looked down at him and smiled, smoothing her hands over his chest. Her lips found his nipple and she sucked gently, teasing at it until it was hard. There was so much to love about his body, so many tempting places to explore.

But he brought her back to her own release when he touched her again. Rachel groaned softly, her eyes going wide as the first shudder consumed her. As if he were waiting for that first sign, Dermot drove deep, and like a wave crashing over her head, her body dissolved into deep and shattering spasms.

For a long moment, every nerve in her body tingled and every synapse in her brain fired. Shudders rocked her, and in the midst of it all, Dermot came, losing himself while buried deep inside her.

Their orgasms melded into one perfect release, and when they were both spent, he pulled her down on top of him and held her close. Rachel rested against his chest, listening to his heart as it slowed to normal again.

Dermot furrowed his fingers through her hair and kissed the top of her head. “I guess it’s true what they say about farmers’ daughters,” he murmured.

“Oh, it gets much better than this,” Rachel said.

“How is that possible?” he asked, drawing back to look into her eyes.

“The county fair starts next weekend. There are rides and cream puffs and corn dogs.”

“Is there a place for us to do this?”

“No,” she said. “But there are pig races, which for some folks around here is better than sex.”

He pushed up on his elbow. “Pig races? Really. Isn’t it kind of hard to ride a pig?”

Rachel giggled. “No, people don’t ride the pigs. The pigs just run around a track.”

“That would never be better than sex with you,” he said.

“I promise to show you a really good time.” At that moment, she was ready to promise Dermot anything. She was blissfully happy with life on the farm, and the way she looked at it, life would only get better.

4

THE GOATS FROM Clover Meadow Farm were one of the biggest attractions at the county fair. Dermot and Rachel delivered six nannies and three kids safely to a pen designed by the local 4-H group and staffed by friendly high school students.

Dermot leaned up against the fence and watched as Rachel spoke with a young boy, showing him how to feed one of the kids a handful of corn. She smiled and laughed as the goat nudged the little boy’s hip, looking for more treats in his pocket.

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.