The Mighty Quinns: Ronan (6 page)

As if she wasn’t having enough trouble maintaining her composure around Ronan, now she’d have Lettie looking over her shoulder, questioning her every move. Charlie always knew that when it came time to find a man, she’d find one on her own, without outside help. After all, she really didn’t believe in the curse.

She drew a deep breath of the night air, the scent of salt drifting up from the river. As she approached her parents’ house, she noticed that it was ablaze with light. It looked like everyone was still up.

She slowly climbed the front steps, then noticed her mother, sitting on the porch swing, a cool drink in her hand. Charlie wandered over and sat down beside her. They rocked back and forth for a long time, neither one of them saying anything.

“Dinner was good,” Charlie said.

Her mother took her hand and gave it a pat. “You’re a sweet daughter,” she said. “But I don’t need you to lie to me. It was pretty awful. I’m just sorry that your new friend had to suffer through it.”

Charlie wrapped her arm around her mother’s and rested her head on her shoulder. “He didn’t mind. We had oysters later.”

“He seems like a nice young man.”

“Yes, mother, he is a very nice young man.” Her mind flashed back to the kisses they’d shared, to the feel of his hands on her body, to the wild sensations that raced through her at his touch. He was also a very bad boy.

“Handsome, too.”

“Ummmm-hmmmm.”

“How long before you think Lettie will come calling?”

“She met me on the street on my way home. She thinks we should get married and that will break the curse.” Charlie drew back. “You and daddy met through the matchmaker, didn’t you?”

“Well, not really. We knew each other before that. She just suggested that we give it a go. And we did. I liked him as much the second time I met him as I did the first. What girl wouldn’t love him?”

“I’m not sure I want to fall in love,” Charlie said.

“Why not?”

“I can’t imagine wanting to spend my whole entire life with the same person.”

“That’s your problem, Charlotte. You can’t imagine it. When the right man comes along, it doesn’t require any thought or imagination. You’ll just know and it will be right.”

“You’re very smart,” Charlie teased.

“Did I ever tell you how glad we are to have you home? I don’t know what we’d do without you now that your dad is laid up.”

“I’m happy to help, Mom. I like working the farm.”

“But if I ever get the sense that you’re just hiding out here, to avoid making the difficult choices, I’m going to have to kick you right back out of the nest. You need to go out into the world and make your dreams come true. And if it doesn’t happen the first time, then you keep trying until it does happen.”

Charlie kissed her mother’s cheek. “Yes, Mom.” She stood up. “I need a long, hot shower and then I’m going to bed.”

“You’re going to have a hard day at work tomorrow,” he mother said.

“Yes, I am.”

“Spending all that time and energy trying not to fall for Ronan Quinn. I suspect it will be exhausting.”

It already was, Charlie thought to herself.

* * *

F
OR
THE
FIRST
time in four days, Ronan had gotten a full night’s sleep. No more uncomfortable bus seats or noisy children or bumpy highways. He now had the luxury of a lovely queen size bed in an apartment overlooking the water.

He’d turned off the air-conditioning, thrown open the window and drifted off to the sounds of the river. But his internal clock, reset during his bus drive, woke him in time to see the sun just peeking over the horizon.

Ronan crawled out of bed, wearing only his boxers, and rubbed his arms against the damp chill in the air. The kitchen had basic supplies and after a quick search, he found coffee, filters and the coffee maker. By the time the coffee was filling the pot, he was waiting with a mug.

Wisps of steam drifted up from the mug as he stepped out onto the terrace. The commercial boats that tied up along the docks in Sibleyville were already up and running. Though he was about to start his first day of work at the Mistry Bay Oyster Farm, Ronan wasn’t thinking about the job. His mind was firmly fixed on his boss.

He’d never had close friends. When he needed someone’s advice or company, he always relied on his brothers. And when it came to women, he’d always held them at a careful distance. But with Charlotte Sibley, Ronan felt like he could have both—a friend and a lover. That had never happened before and he wasn’t sure how to handle it.

Should they solidify their friendship first and then indulge in physical pleasures? Or would the physical intimacies make for a deeper friendship. Ronan was at a loss when it came to his next step. All he knew was that he needed to spend more time with Charlie. A lot more time.

He heard a knock at the front door of the apartment and Ronan strode back inside and grabbed a pair of jeans, tugging them on before he continued to the door. When he opened it, the object of his early morning fantasies was standing in the hallway, her hair still damp from her shower. She clutched a bag in her hand and had tucked a thermos under her arm.

“Morning,” she said, stepping inside. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” Ronan said, grinning at her. “How about you?”

“Not a wink,” she muttered. She quickly turned to face him. “Listen, we need to set some ground rules. I was up all last night just thinking about kissing you and—”

“You were?” Ronan slipped his arms around her waist. “What were you thinking about?”

She backed away from him and walked to the table. “If we’re going to…you know…mess around, then we need to do it outside of work. I can’t focus on the job if all I’m thinking about is you.” She paused and glanced up at him. “Can we do that?”

“Sure,” he said.

She released a tightly held breath and nodded. “All right. Then grab a shirt. We’ll get you a pair of waders and some boots. Do you have a sweater or a jacket?”

“Nothing I can wear on a boat,” he said.

“Come on, then,” Charlie said. “I’ll get you what you need.”

Five minutes later, they were downstairs, rummaging through his wardrobe choices. When he’d been outfitted in a fleece jacket, gloves, rubber waders and boots, they headed out to the dock. Charlie jumped into the skiff and pointed to the stern line. “Grab that one,” she said as she crawled to the bow.

He did as he was told, but when it came time to jump into the boat, Ronan hesitated. She looked up at him. “Take your time,” she said.

“Right.” He nodded, then began to slowly pace back and forth on the pier. “I don’t know why this is giving me a problem. I think the water just looks…darker.”

She reached into the bag she’d carried and pulled out a donut. “Bearclaw?” she asked.

Ronan shook his head. Right now, anything he ate was guaranteed to come right back up again. “Baby steps,” he murmured.

She nodded and took a bite, slowly chewing as she watched him from the boat. Cursing softly, he drew a deep breath and jumped into the skiff. His head slammed in his chest and he felt a familiar rush of panic. But he wasn’t going to let it overwhelm him. “All right,” he murmured. “Let’s go.”

True to their arrangement, she was keeping everything very professional, including her attitude toward him. He needed a kiss, a touch, anything to distract his thoughts. He knew if he pulled her into his arms, she’d relent and respond. But he could certainly control his impulses—at least for the next eight to ten hours.

His thoughts, however, were an entirely different matter. She couldn’t keep him from enjoying a vivid fantasy during the workday. And though baggy waders and faded fleece jacket weren’t the height of sexy attire, Ronan didn’t care. He liked the way she looked, all tough and ready to meet the elements.

As she maneuvered away from the dock and into the river, he felt a sliver of fear, but focused his mind on a careful study of her features, outlined by the soft light of the sunrise.

“Here,” she said, stepping away. “Take the wheel. Just stay to the center of the channel.”

He did as ordered, sliding into the seat behind the controls. Charlie opened the thermos, then grabbed a pair of mugs from a locker beneath her seat. She handed him a mug, the poured one for herself.

“Thanks,” he said. “Maybe I should try one of those donuts. It might settle my stomach.”

She opened the bag and held it out to him. “Bearclaw. Breakfast of champions.”

Ronan chuckled. He set the mug on a nearby ledge and grabbed the pastry, taking a huge bite. “Oh, God, it’s still warm.”

She nodded as she bit into her breakfast. “Yeah. You can’t go wrong. There’s a bakery just down the street from the boathouse. They open at five a.m. Sunrise is at six these days, so there’s always something coming out of the oven.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then turned to look out over the water. “This is going to be pretty tricky,” he said.

“Just follow the buoys,” she said. “Keep the red on your left and the green on your right as we’re going out to sea. And then, the opposite as we’re coming in. Red on the left, going on the right, returning. Just remember that.”

“That’s not what I was talking about,” Ronan said.

“What were you talking about?”

“I was thinking about how difficult it would be to keep from kissing you. You look beautiful this morning,” he said.

Charlie laughed, the sound echoing over the water and through the early morning mist. “Oh, please.”

“You do. I really like the outfit. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s taking all my strength not to grab you and have my way with you.”

“Eat your bearclaw,” she said with a coy smile. “And you are full of it, by the way. Any man who thinks this is sexy is sick, sick, sick.”

Maybe that was it, Ronan mused. Maybe this was some kind of physical malady that would disappear with a few days rest. Whenever he was close to her, he did feel a little feverish.

“So, boss, what are we doing today?”

“We’re going to stop by the nursery and pick up some crates of seed oysters and then we’re going to plant them in the bay.”

“How do we do that?”

“It’s a very complicated technique,” she said. “We put on our snorkel gear and jump in the water and take each little oyster and plant it in a perfect row on the bottom of the bay.”

“Really?”

“No. Weren’t you listening last night? I think I explained it.”

Ronan groaned. “I had other things on my mind. Maybe you should go over it again.”

She laughed at him and the sound was sweet and musical. He’d never known any woman who could make him smile as much as Charlie could. Nothing ever seemed to bother her. Maybe he’d just dated the wrong women, Ronan thought to himself, somber, depressing women who never smiled or laughed. Was this what a relationship was supposed to be like—light and teasing and fun?

“Wait, let me see if I can find my notes,” Ronan said. “I was taking notes, wasn’t I?”

“All right, I’ll explain once more, but pay attention.”

His gaze skimmed her pretty features and he nodded.

“You’re going to carefully take a shovel full of oysters and you’re going to toss them over the side as I’m driving the boat very slowly over the beds. They’re going to sink to the bottom and stay there for a few years, until we’re ready to harvest them. We have two more days of planting, then we have to start harvesting some of the mature beds.”

“How do you make sure you get the oysters that are ready?”

“We plant the bay in sections. This season we’ll harvest the section that we planted a few years ago.”

He poked at his forehead with his gloved finger. “Got it. I won’t forget that.”

She reached over and ruffled his hair. It was such an innocent gesture, but it said everything about the two of them. After only a day, they were completely comfortable with each other. He didn’t have to think about what he said before he said it. She was so open and honest, not the kind of girl who played games.

She looked out over the water, then pointed to one of the red buoys. “Watch out,” she warned.

He changed direction, then took another bite of his bearclaw. Right now, Ronan couldn’t imagine wanting to be any other place in the world. For a guy who never felt like he belonged, this was exactly where he needed to be for the moment. And maybe for longer than that.

4

T
HE
AFTERNOON
SUN
beat down on the skiff and Charlie slowly maneuvered the boat along a line running parallel to the shore. Ronan stood in the open bow, his jacket and shirt discarded, his tanned body gleaming with perspiration.

He’d started the day uneasy about being on the water. Charlie had seen the look of panic in his eyes whenever she caught him looking down into the dark water. But she’d advised him to keep his eyes on the horizon and that seemed to calm his fears.

Though she’d barely known him a day, she couldn’t help but wonder about the complex man who stood before her. He seemed invincible, yet flawed. Strong, yet sensitive. Engaged yet indifferent in many ways. Though he admitted that he felt most comfortable when he was alone, she’d found him to be a clever conversationalist, when he felt like talking.

Ronan gently scooped up a shovel full of seed oysters and then, in a wide sweeping motion, tossed them into the water. Charlie had showed him the technique earlier and it had taken him only a few tries before he understood what she needed.

She watched the play of muscle across his back and a tiny shiver of desire skittered through her. If this was what she’d have to put up with every day, then keeping her hands off of Ronan was going to be nearly impossible. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him, either. He was standing there, right in front of her, like some beautiful statue made of flesh and bone instead of cold marble.

“What do you have left up there?” she called as she brought the boat around. Her voice wavered slightly and she cleared her throat.

An image flashed in her mind and she brushed it aside. If her mind insisted on removing the rest of his clothes, then she had no choice but to think about other things. “Oysters,” she muttered to herself. “Oysters.”

“Maybe five or six more tosses,” he called.

“Let me go down to the south end. We can push that a little further out, I think.” She watched her depth finder as she navigated to the spot.

Buoys marked off the different areas of the bay and the oysters were scattered in carefully drawn areas, chosen for optimum growing conditions. Charlie knew the bay like the back of her hand, the shoreline, the depths, the muddy flats and the spots where the current ran strong.

“How much of this water is yours?” Ronan asked, bracing his arm on the shovel handle.

“None of it is ours. We lease it from the state. We own the land on Kepley Pond where the hatchery is, but none of this.”

Charlie found the spot she wanted and called to him and Ronan finished the last of the seed oysters. After setting the shovel down, he made his way back to Charlie, flopping down on the seat next to her. “Do we have another load to do?”

They’d gone back to the hatchery twice already that day. “Nope. We’re finished.”

He raised his hands above his head and shouted. “All right! I survived.” Ronan turned to her and slipped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a long, deep kiss. When he drew back, he had a devilish smile on his face. “Wait. Did I jump the gun? Do I have to wait until we dock at the boathouse?”

“No,” she said. “Work is officially over. You did well. How do you feel?”

“Exhausted. There were times when I just wanted off this boat, but I tried to focus on the job and that helped.” He kissed her again, tossing off his gloves so he could cup her face in his hands. “Thanks for being so patient with me. Can we drive home closer to the shore?”

“It’ll take us longer,” she said.

“I’m good with that.”

He kissed her again, so sweet and so gentle, yet there was a raw power to his kiss that promised so much more. Charlie found it impossible to resist him. She was, after just a day, completely infatuated with the man.

She’d always considered herself a fairly sensible person when it came to romance. With Danny, everything had been simple and straight-forward. But this romance was completely the opposite, a maelstrom of intense and uncontrollable feelings.

The urge to toss aside her inhibitions and totally surrender to Ronan was becoming more and more difficult to ignore. She wanted to laugh out loud and leap through fields of daisies and sing love songs at the top of her voice. The old Charlotte Sibley would have been mortified to caught doing anything so ridiculous. But Charlie didn’t care what other people thought. The only thing she cared about was the man sitting next to her.

“What are we going to do tonight?” he murmured, his breath soft against her ear.

She smoothed her hands across his chest and drew back. “Do you want to do anything? I thought you might want to relax. You’re going to be sore tomorrow.”

“I’m in good shape,” he said. “I won’t be sore.”

“You will be. Believe me, unless you make a living shoveling snow, you’re going to feel it. The first time I did that job, I couldn’t move for three days.”

He chuckled. “That’s because you’re a girl,” he said with a shrug.

Charlie gasped. “You did not just say that.”

He winced. “Backsies,” Ronan said. An odd look suddenly came over his face and he turned away.

“Backsies? What is that?”

He laughed softly. “I don’t know where that came from. It was buried really deep. Twenty years deep.”

“What is it?”

He turned back to her and forced a smile. “My mom used to say that. Whenever one of us would say something nasty, she’d ask if we wanted a backsie, which meant we could take it back before anyone heard it. It was her way of making us think before we spoke.”

“You don’t have to take it back. I knew you were teasing.” She turned her gaze to meet his. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he said. “It was a nice memory.” Ronan drew a deep breath. “Are we having dinner with your folks again?”

Charlie shook her head. “No, we don’t have to.”

“What cuisine is it tonight?”

“Most of the time we have normal food,” she explained. “Maybe meatloaf or roasted chicken or pork chops. Mona’s really a pretty decent cook. And once a month we have Thanksgiving.”

“Thanksgiving?”

Charlie nodded. “My mother thinks that a meal so wonderful should be enjoyed more than once a year. So she makes a turkey and dressing and mashed potatoes and all the fixings. We eat off my great-grandmother’s china and use the Sibley silver. And everyone has to be there. I think we’re having Thanksgiving next week.”

“That sounds pretty wonderful,” he said. “We never really celebrated Thanksgiving, at least not after my folks died. My grandfather is from Ireland and he didn’t quite understand the tradition.”

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” she asked.

“Can we eat raw oysters and drink beer again?”

“You can. I’ll order Thai food. But before we do anything, you’re going to need to take a shower. You smell like oysters.”

“You don’t smell like a rose garden yourself,” he said, hugging her close. He drew a deep breath, his face buried in her windswept hair. “Nope, no roses there.”

Charlie’s cellphone rang and she reached into her waders and pulled it from her jacket pocket. The caller I.D. said “Isaac.” “Hey, what’s up? Where are you?”

“I got a call from Uncle Jake,” Isaac said. “They lost a dredging basket when the line broke so we came over to see if we could snag it. Abs and I are diving for it, but we’re getting a little cold. Should we leave it and come back with scuba gear tomorrow?”

“No, let me give it a try. You’re across from Palmer Cove?”

“Yep,” Isaac said.

“Be there in about ten minutes.” Charlie put her phone back in her pocket. “We have to give Isaac a hand. It’ll only take a few minutes. Then we’ll head back to the boathouse.”

She turned the skiff toward the mouth of the bay and hit the throttle. From end to end, Mistry Bay was nearly forty miles long. Work crews from the farm were often on the bay at the same time, yet rarely saw each other. She found her siblings across from the cove they’d been seeding, their skiff bobbing on the water. Abby and Isaac were huddled in the boat.

Charlie maneuvered the skiff next to theirs and tied it up at the bow and stern. “How deep is it?”

“About fifteen feet,” Isaac said. “I had it once, but my knot slipped. Without a mask, I couldn’t really see. It’s full of oysters.” He looked over at Ronan. “Charlie is the best diver in the family.”

Ronan stared at her, his mouth agape. “You’re going to jump in the water?”

Charlie nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ve done this lots of times.”

“She sometimes harvests oysters by diving,” Abby said. “She can hold her breath longer than anyone in the family. Almost two minutes.”

Kicking off her rubber boots, Charlie slipped the straps of her waders over her shoulders and stepped out of them. Her jacket came next and then her jeans. When she was down to her panties and her T-shirt, she stepped to the stern of the boat.

“Wait a minute,” Ronan said. “Is this really necessary? I’ll buy you a new basket.”

“We don’t want to lose equipment.” She motioned to Isaac. “Hand me the line.” She wrapped the rope around her waist and knotted it, then dove over the side.

The bottom of the bay was mud and unlike sand, it didn’t reflect the light. But Charlie saw the dredge right away and swam over to it. She unwrapped the line from her waist and then, taking her time, tied it through the bracket, making sure the knot was tight. She grabbed an oyster from the bottom, then kicked for the surface.

Ronan was waiting, staring over the stern with a worried expression. He held out his hand and helped her into the skiff, then wrapped his jacket around her shoulders and rubbed her back. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” She held out the oyster to him. “I brought you a present.”

“An oyster?”

“The freshest oyster you’ve ever eaten,” she said. “Come on, I’ll open it for you.”

Isaac and Abby had managed to drag the basket into the boat. “What do you want to do with these?”

“Take half home to Mom. She can make oyster stew. And leave about half of them at the boathouse. Ronan needs dinner.”

Isaac untied his boat from Charlie’s skiff and a few seconds later, he and Abby were skimming across the water toward the main channel. Ronan stared down at her, wiping the water from her face.

“That scared the crap out of me,” he said. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“It’s not that deep. And there’s nothing down there to hurt me. I’ll show you. Next time we have a low tide, we’ll walk out here and harvest by hand.”

He frowned. “You can do that?”

She pushed up on her toes and kissed him. “You have a lot to learn about oyster farming, rookie.”

Ronan growled softly and pulled her into a fierce embrace. “I think I have a lot to learn about you, Charlotte Sibley,” he said, before his mouth found hers again.

* * *

A
LONG
HOT
shower was the perfect end to a hard day at work. Ronan had never felt this pleasant kind of exhaustion after a day of working at the yachtworks. Maybe it was all the fresh air or the intense labor, but every muscle in his body had been taxed.

He’d slipped into a pair of cargo shorts and then wandered out into the kitchen. To his surprise, the refrigerator had been stocked with food and drink sometime during the day. The cupboard above the sink also held a variety of snacks. Had Charlie done this?

He found the answer on a note in a basket of fresh fruit. Penny Sibley. Charlie’s mother. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and twisted it open.

His stomach growled. They’d had a quick lunch of ham sandwiches at the hatchery, but nothing since then. “Oysters,” he murmured.

Somewhere in this building were the oysters Isaac and Abby had pulled out of the bay. He grabbed the front door, but as he pulled it open, he found Charlie standing on the other side.

She held a paper bag, a plastic bucket of oysters and a six-pack of beer. “Help,” she said. “Grab the bag.”

The scent of Thai spices drifted through the air. “I was just going to search out those oysters.”

“I brought these from home,” she said. “My mom had cleaned them and set them aside for you.”

“She stocked my refrigerator, too,” Ronan said, stepping aside so Charlie could enter.

Charlie turned to face him, her surprise etched across her beautiful face. “She did? Well, that was very nice of her. She’s taken a liking to you.” She set the beer on the counter, then began to unpack the Thai food from the bag. But since she’d walked in, Ronan had suddenly forgotten all about food. He was hungry for Charlie instead.

He’d spent the entire day observing her, reveling in each new detail he discovered. Unlike other women he’d known, Charlie wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. She worked a job that took strength and patience and insight. Her body wasn’t toned by a trainer, but by hard, physical work. Her day began at dawn and ended when the work was done. She was a remarkable woman.

Ronan stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She smelled like citrus. He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Leave the food,” he said.

“You’re not hungry?”

Ronan grabbed the bucket of oysters and put them in the fridge, then turned her around to face him. He grabbed her waist and set her on the edge of the counter. “God, you smell good. And you’re so damn pretty.”

“This is going to get out of hand,” she warned, smoothing his hair away from his forehead. “You can’t keep telling me I’m pretty. And you have to stop smelling my hair.”

“Is that so bad? We managed to keep our hands off each other all day today.”

With a groan, Charlie pulled him into a kiss. But this time, Ronan felt that the kiss was just a prelude to something more.

She ran her hands over his naked chest, her palms warm against his skin, her fingernails raking across his shoulders. It had been awhile since he’d been touched like this and Ronan felt an instant response. He stepped between her legs, wrapping them around his waist.

Ronan lost himself in the taste of her mouth, in the feel of her caress on his body. In one way, they were still strangers, unaware of the pleasures they could bring each other. But in just one day, he felt as if he knew her better than he’d ever known any another woman.