The Mighty Quinns: Dermot-Dex

“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.” She turned for the door, then glanced over her shoulder. “When you’re ready, I’ll give you a tour of the barns. Just knock on the back door.”

Dermot listened to her footsteps on the stairs, then he heard the screen door slam. He chuckled softly as he shrugged out of his shirt. What was a woman like Rachel doing all alone on a goat farm? Maybe this was his problem. All the really interesting women in the world were living in some rural hideaway, waiting for some unsuspecting guy to discover them.

He unzipped his duffel, then grabbed a clean T-shirt. He stared at his reflection in the old mirror above the chest of drawers. Though he’d spent the past two days on a bus, he didn’t look any worse for wear. He was in serious need of a shave and a shower and a decent meal and a long nap. But he suspected all that would have to wait until after he milked a few goats.

Dermot smoothed his hand over the stubble on his cheek. He could at least manage a quick shave. He stripped out of his shirt and then, dressed only in his jeans, grabbed his shaving kit and headed downstairs to the bathroom.

He’d just lathered his face when Eddie appeared at the bathroom door. “I—I was just going to shave. If you prefer I do this in the barn, I can—”

Rachel’s uncle scowled, then nodded. “My goats prefer a well-groomed dairyman. But lay off the Old Spice. They won’t like you if you smell funny.”

As he lathered his face, Dermot watched the old man in the mirror. He had to hand it to his grandfather. This was going to be a real challenge, especially considering that he’d have both a beautiful woman and her surly uncle to contend with.

He wondered whether his brothers had arrived at their destinations and what strange fates had befallen them. Would they be as lucky as he was to find such lovely scenery?

Though he was tempted to call one of them, his grandfather had requested that they give up their cell phones for the duration. They were on their own, left to their own devices to live a different life for the next six weeks.

When he left Seattle, six weeks had seemed like an eternity. But now that he’d met Rachel Howe, it seemed like barely enough time at all.

2

RACHEL STOOD AT the kitchen sink, staring out the window at the front porch of the stone house. Her gaze fixed on a bumblebee that lazily buzzed around her grandmother’s perennial garden as her mind wandered back to the kiss she’d shared with Dermot Quinn.

A tiny shiver skittered through her and she turned her attention back to the lunch dishes. How was it possible to be so overwhelmingly attracted to a man she didn’t even know? She’d been living at the farm full-time for over a year now, with her friends an hour away in Chicago. She hadn’t been with a man in all that time.

“I suppose that explains it,” she murmured to herself. Though she’d never call herself promiscuous, she did have boyfriends and lovers on a fairly regular basis. But a year was a really long time to go without any sex at all. And since Dermot had arrived, her year of celibacy seemed destined to end—soon.

It wasn’t as if she wanted to live the life of a nun. Leaving the farm was almost impossible, even for a weekend. Eddie couldn’t run the dairy on his own and she hadn’t been able to find reliable helpers. So she’d been stuck, biding her time and wondering if her sex life would ever get back to normal.

Maybe the solitude had just gotten to her and that’s why she’d kissed him. Yes, she was pathetically lonely and he was incredibly handsome and charming. Would it be wrong to take advantage of her good fortune? A kiss here and there wouldn’t do either one of them any harm. But could she stop at just one kiss?

A screen door squeaked and she glanced up to see Dermot headed across the yard, freshly shaved and dressed in a faded T-shirt and jeans. Every time she looked at him he seemed to get more good-looking. A few seconds later, he knocked on the door. She grabbed a towel and wiped her hands, then let him in.

“Hey,” he said, giving her a shy smile.

“You look… refreshed,” Rachel commented. “Are you hungry? I could make you a sandwich. It’s going to be a while until dinner. We eat after we’re done milking and that’s usually around eight.”

He nodded. “No, I can wait. I know I haven’t earned anything yet but—”

She held out the dish towel. “You can dry the dishes,” Rachel suggested.

He chuckled softly. “I may not know how to milk a goat, but I can definitely dry dishes.” He took the towel from her hand, his fingers touching hers for a moment. The contact sent a thrill racing through her and she groaned inwardly.

So it had been a year. She still remembered exactly what to do with a man once she had him in bed. It wasn’t something she could forget. But a man as sexy as Dermot might expect a woman to please him in very different ways, very… unusual ways.

Though Rachel considered herself experienced, most of the guys she’d been with hadn’t been very adventurous in the bedroom. She could count her lovers on two hands with a couple fingers left over. And the most exciting experience she’d ever had was making love on the kitchen floor of her apartment.

She stared at the spot on the floor at Dermot’s feet, wondering if that might be the next place it happened.

“Rachel?”

Startled out of her thoughts, she looked up to find him staring at her. “I was just going to make a pie for dessert,” she mumbled.

Her heart pounded and she drew a deep breath to try to calm herself. How had this happened? She hadn’t even thought of the possibilities until he’d kissed her, and now she could think of nothing else. Her brain was filled with sex, sex and more sex.

“You can bake a pie,” he said. “I’m not sure I’ve ever met a woman who could bake a pie.”

Rachel slowly gathered the things she’d need and placed them on the table in the center of the kitchen. That’s not all she could do, she mused. In fact, she had a lot of undiscovered talents.

“Tell me what you’re doing on this farm all alone.”

“I was raised here,” she said. “My parents used to keep dairy cows, but I was allergic to cow’s milk, so they got some goats. As my dad got older, it was easier to raise goats.”

“When did your parents pass away?” Dermot asked.

“My dad just this last fall. My mom about five years ago.”

“My folks died when I was just a kid,” he said. “In a boating accident.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, glancing up at him.

He shrugged. “I barely remember them. We were raised by my grandfather. Me and my three brothers.”

“I have a sister and two brothers, but they’re a lot older than me,” she explained. “The closest one is fifteen years older. I don’t remember living with siblings. It was always just me and my parents.”

“So you stayed on the farm with them?”

She shook her head. “Nope. I did the same thing that my brothers and sister did. As soon as I graduated from high school, I headed out into the world. I went to art school in Chicago and then started my own line of greeting cards. I lived in San Francisco and then moved to New York with a boyfriend, who broke up with me a month later. I came back here to care for my dad and decided to stay for a while.” She paused. “My dad’s will stipulated that if any of his children wanted to run the farm, then they could have it. If not, it gets sold and the proceeds divided up between us.”

He nodded. “I wouldn’t want this place sold,” he said. “It’s perfect.”

“You haven’t met the goats yet,” she said with a smile.

“I met Benny. He was kind of cute.”

“It’s like living with sixty children who never stop eating, will try anything to get loose, require round-the-clock supervision and can’t tell you when they’re sick. It can be really stressful at times. I’m just glad to finally have some help.”

“Well, anything I can do to relieve your stress, just let me know.”

Rachel met his gaze, wondering if he was thinking what she was. There were many ways to relax. A nice, long bath. A massage. A lazy afternoon in bed with a naked man. And an orgasm so powerful that it—Rachel swallowed hard and turned back to the pie.

She could barely remember what she was supposed to do, her hands fumbling with the ingredients. They continued to chat, but all she could think about was finding an excuse to stand close enough to him so he might kiss her again.

Once the pie was in the oven, she went to the sink to wash her hands. He handed her the towel. “What next, boss?”

“You can help me bring the goats in from the pasture. I think we should get an early start on the milking since I’m going to have to teach you how to do it.”

“All right,” he said. “Let’s go. I’m ready to get to work.” They walked to the door and he opened it for her, then gently rested his hand on her back as she passed through. Was he feeling the same way about her? Was he looking for an excuse to touch her? Or was she the only lovesick, horny fool on this farm?