The Mighty Quinns: Rourke (10 page)

Maybe he’d stopped caring. Maybe he’d realized that she was a lost cause and that she’d never change. Why would a man like Rourke even bother with a girl like her? Pity only went so far, but now it was clear that he’d reached the end of his rope.

Annie strode out to the kitchen, ready to confront him, to demand that he be honest about his feelings for her. But he’d already gone back to the lighthouse, no doubt to set fire to everything he’d already built for her.

As she stepped to the door, she heard a musical sound. She turned to see Rourke’s cell phone vibrating across the kitchen table. She walked over to grab it, then noticed the name on the screen. Maria Cantwell.

She hesitated, then picked the phone up and pressed the green button to receive the call.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end greeted her. “Hello. Is Rourke there?”

“Not right now,” she said.

“Can you tell him I called,” she said. “Maria.”

“Can I ask what—”

“Oh, he’ll know. Don’t worry. Just let him know I returned his call. Bye.”

The woman clicked off on the other end. “Oh, he’ll know,” Annie muttered. She’d never come right out and asked him if he had a girlfriend. She’d never asked him if he had a wife, either. Had she forgotten an important step here?

Annie groaned and sank onto a kitchen chair. She hadn’t asked because she’d assumed he’d be honest when contemplating her offer of seduction. In truth, it was a perfect situation for an unhappily married man: a few nights of hot sex in a remote cottage with a willing partner. What man wouldn’t have jumped at the chance?

She grabbed his phone and headed outside, then strode up the path to the lighthouse. When she reached the open door, she found Rourke inside, sweeping sawdust off the floor. He didn’t look up at her and she could tell by his body language that he was holding his temper.

“You had a phone call. It was Maria. She said you’d know what it was about.” Annie held out the phone and he took it from her and stuffed it in his pocket.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I want to do this. I’m just not sure I can.”

He met her gaze. “You won’t know until you try. I’ll be there, just like I was that day when we were kids. If anyone causes you trouble, I’ll be there.”

“It—it just feels like...surrender,” she said.

“Surrender? How?”

“I’ve been fighting them so long. Trying to keep them from hurting me. Refusing to play by their rules. And now I’m going to act like it never made any difference to me.”

Rourke stepped in front of her and took her hands. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

Annie nodded. “I do.”

“Then trust me on this. If I thought for even a moment that this would be bad for you, I’d never ask you to do it. Do you believe me?”

She wanted to believe him, but then there was Maria. Who was she and what did she mean to him? “The phone call,” she said. “Is that your girlfriend?”

Rourke drew back, looking down at her with a wry smile on his face. “No.”

She swallowed hard. “Please don’t tell me she’s your wife.”

“That’s a big no,” he said. “I’m not married and I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“So I guess that also rules out a fiancée?”

“Maria is a lawyer. She’s dealing with an inheritance.”

“From Buddy?”

“No,” he said. “From another relative I didn’t know I had. I guess she’s trying to figure out if I’m the guy she’s looking for.”

Annie felt a warm blush creep up her cheeks. “I thought maybe... I just never asked if you were involved, and now I am.” She drew a ragged breath. “That’s good then.”

“So what about the art fair? Are you in or out? Because, if you’re in, I need to finish this rack before the end of the day.”

“I’m in,” Annie said. “I’ll do it.”

He bent close and kissed her forehead. “I’m glad. You’ll see, this will be good. You’ll sell your art and make some money.”

“And pay you back for everything you spent on materials,” she added.

“We’ll talk about that later.”

“I am going to pay you back,” Annie insisted.

“We’re going to have to take these racks over today. I talked to Betty at the hardware store and she said we can store them on her loading dock until the morning of the show. We’ll take all your stuff over and then I’ll run and get the racks and we can set up. The show opens at ten, so we’ll probably have to get to town by eight?”

“Right,” she said. “That sounds good.”

He pulled her into a fierce hug. “What do you say I finish up here and grab a shower and I’ll take you out for dinner. We’ll go into Pearson Bay. You can dip a toe before you jump in headfirst.”

Annie had decided to put herself in his hands. If she freaked out, then that would be the end of it. But Rourke was right. She did owe it to him, and herself, to try. It wasn’t really surrender. She wouldn’t change to fit their idea of normal.

* * *

R
OURKE
ROLLED
OVER
in bed and reached out for Annie’s warm body. But her side of the bed was cold and empty. He sat up and looked around the room. The weather had been so warm, they hadn’t needed a fire and the only light came from the lamp on the kitchen table.

“Annie?” He swung his legs off the edge of the bed and stood. He didn’t bother to grab any clothes and walked to the screen door. She sat on the top step staring out at the water. She was wrapped in an old afghan that usually hung over the back of the rocking chair. Kit was sitting beside her, his nose up, sniffing the breeze that blew off the ocean.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked.

“Thinking,” she said.

“About what?”

She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Everything is changing. I’m changing. I thought I understood what my life was and I was all right with it. I was happy. But now I have new things happening and I’m worried that it will make my old life seem...unsatisfying.”

He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “What’s wrong with that?”

“You’ll go home, I’ll go back to the way things were, and I’ll be unhappy.”

Rourke drew her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss below her wrist. “I’ve been thinking I might stay. I have Buddy’s cottage and the land it’s on. There’s no reason for me to go right now.”

“What about New York? Don’t you miss your friends? Your family?”

“No,” he said. “I’m really starting to enjoy this place. You. Us, together. What do you think?”

“I think you’ve known me for a week. It’s a little too soon to change your whole life for someone you barely know.”

“I know enough,” Rourke said. He stood up and drew her to her feet. The afghan fell away from her naked breasts. “Come back to bed.”

He pulled the door open and she stepped inside. As she crossed to the corner of the room, she let the afghan fall to the floor. Rourke’s breath caught in his throat and he paused to watch her in the dim light from the lamp.

When she reached the bed, Annie turned and held out her hand to him. They sank onto the mattress together, their bodies already entwined in a familiar prelude to what they were about to do.

But this night was different. This night wasn’t a crazy race to release. This was slow and sweet. He lingered over each caress, and her fingers and lips explored every inch of his body. Though he’d told her he was planning to move into Buddy’s house, in truth, Rourke couldn’t imagine spending a single night away from her.

It had been a week, but they’d lived a lifetime in those seven days. He’d never experienced anything like this with any other woman. And it wasn’t just about sex. There was an undeniable bond between them, as if they were always meant to be together.

She made him slow down and enjoy the little things in life, the truly important things. And he was helping her conquer her past and face her future. Rourke wanted that future to include him, but he knew he’d have to wait.

It had taken a lot of effort to breach the walls she built around her. But she could throw them up a lot faster than he could knock them down. It was too soon to talk about a future together—for both of them.

He lost himself in the taste of her mouth, and rational thought slowly slipped from his mind. Annie rolled on top of him, her legs straddling his hips. She caught his hands above his head and leaned over him, her breasts brushing against his chest.

She teased him, smiling down at him, her hair wild around her face. This one thing would never change between them, he thought. This would always be perfect.

When she shifted above him, he held his breath, the tip of his shaft slipping into her damp heat. He waited for her to move again, to grab the box of condoms from the bedside table. But instead, she slowly took him inside her, inch by delicious inch, until he was completely buried.

Rourke wanted to stop her, wanted to remind her what they were risking. But he didn’t care. If there were consequences to this night, it would link them forever. And wasn’t that what he wanted?

She began to move, and Rourke watched her, her naked body flushed with passion. Her lip was caught between her teeth and her eyes fluttered. They’d learned each other’s signs, the sighs and the gasps, the shifts in tempo that meant release was close at hand.

Usually they reached their orgasms together, but this time, Rourke wanted to watch her. He reached between them and touched her, his fingers sliding between her moist folds. She was so close to the edge that the momentary caress was all it took to bring on the shudders and spasms.

She arched against him, her hands splayed across his chest, her head tipped back. It took every last ounce of his self-control to wait until she was completely spent, and when she collapsed, he pulled her beneath him and drove into her just once.

He surrendered to the power of his orgasm. Pleasure pulsed through his body and he held on to her hips when she rocked against him. And when it was finally over, Rourke kissed her, tasting deep of her sweet mouth.

“Sometimes, I think I could spend the rest of my life in this bed and be perfectly happy.”

“We have to go to the art fair in the morning,” she said.

“I’m not making you go,” he replied with a chuckle. “In fact, right about now, I’m thinking we should stay in bed.”

“Really?”

She sounded so hopeful. Maybe he had been pushing too hard. He couldn’t expect her to conquer all her fears in just one week. And though they’d had dinner in town that evening, he could tell she was a bundle of nerves throughout.

As she’d predicted, people had stared at them and whispered to each other, and no doubt there would be wild speculation over what was going on at Freer’s Point.

“Yes, really,” he said.

“But we did all that work.”

“And now you’re ready to go if you decide to go. Without doing all that, you wouldn’t have been ready.”

She pushed up on her elbow and smoothed her palm over his chest. “Do you think I need to see a psychiatrist?”

Rourke laughed. “What brought that on?”

“I’ve just been thinking that maybe...I mean, I’ve read about people who are afraid of crowds or strangers or even leaving their houses.”

“Agoraphobics,” Rourke said. He had to admit that the thought had crossed his mind. But Annie’s reluctance to socialize had more to do with stubbornness than fear. She stayed away to prove a point—that she didn’t need anyone’s help. Or pity.

But their time together had changed all that. She’d made it pretty clear that she wanted him—maybe even needed him just a bit. And she was learning that it wasn’t a bad thing to have someone to depend upon. Someone she could trust.

“Do you think that’s me?” she asked.

“No,” Rourke replied. “I mean, I’m no shrink, but I believe that you’re perfectly capable of doing anything you set your mind to. I think that you had a very sad childhood and you coped the only way you knew how. But that made you into a strong and resilient woman.”

“I don’t always feel strong,” she said.

“Neither do I,” Rourke said. “We all have our insecurities.”

“You have insecurities?” Annie laughed. “Really? Name one.”

“When I was a kid, I had really big ears. My dad always said I’d grow into them. My mom wanted me to go to a plastic surgeon and have them fixed. That’s why I always wear my hair long. To cover up my ears.”

Annie frowned, then reached up and brushed the hair away from his right ear. “I love your ears,” she said. “I think they’re perfect.”

“And I love your mouth,” Rourke said, pulling her into a kiss. “Your soft lips and your sweet tongue. And I love your nose and those freckles across the bridge. And your hair and your hands. I pretty much love every little part of you.”

“I am going to go to the art fair,” Annie said. “I’m ready to move on. It’s time I start acting like a full grown woman instead of a scared kid.”

“I don’t have any doubts about the full grown woman thing,” Rourke teased. “And I’m going to be right there, by your side.”

It was a promise he was happy to give her for the next week. But he was beginning to believe that it might just be a promise that would last a lifetime.

7

T
HE
OPENING
DAY
of the Celtic Colors music festival brought a crowd of tourists into Pearson Bay. There were concerts spread all over Cape Breton, in a variety of venues, and along with that, many of the small towns added events of their own, hoping to capitalize on the influx of people.

Though Annie had never been much for crowds, Rourke had set her up in the tent with a comfortable chair, a cooler full of snacks and a promise that she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone if she didn’t want to.

For the first hour, people mostly browsed, moving from tent to tent and taking in everything the art fair had to offer. But right before lunch, those same people started to buy. Annie watched as Rourke pointed the customers toward works they might enjoy. But he didn’t know the stories behind her pieces and she thought it was important for the buyer to know everything about her art.

When he was trying to describe one of her embossed Celtic crosses, she grew impatient when he kept calling it an etching. Annie pushed out of her chair and stepped to his side, then patiently explained the technique she had used to get the detail embossed into the copper.

From then on, it seemed easier to talk to people. Most of the customers were tourists, but several citizens of Pearson Bay stopped by to say hello to Rourke and to nod at her. That didn’t satisfy Rourke. He invited them to look at Annie’s work, asking her to tell them about it.

“Well, Annie, it looks like your booth is one of our most popular.”

Annie looked up from straightening her woodcut prints to find Father John grinning at her. “Thank you,” she said, suddenly uneasy. Was he upset that she was stealing business from the other artists? “I mean, they’ve been looking.”

“And buying,” Rourke said. “It’s going well.”

Father John smiled. “Annie, I haven’t seen you in church since we said our goodbyes to your grandmother. We’ve missed you. And I suspect that you’ve missed the church. And Rourke, once you move back to your uncle’s place, we’d like to see you in our congregation.”

His implication was clear. Father John obviously didn’t approve of the two of them cohabitating. It had barely been two hours and already she was being judged. But then, wasn’t that Father John’s job?

“Have you seen Annie’s Celtic crosses?” Rourke asked, deftly shifting the subject. “As a man of the cloth, I think you might need to have one of these.”

Annie moved on to help another customer and to her delight, managed to make three sales in a matter of minutes. She glanced up at the crowd gathered around her tent and felt a bit giddy with all the excitement.

By two o’clock they’d sold at least twenty-five pieces and were holding another six or seven for customers who were going to stop back on their way out. Annie was hungry and thirsty and needed a bathroom break.

“I’m going to go get us some lunch,” she said. “I smell hamburgers and I want one.”

“Me, too,” Rourke said. “Two. With ketchup, pickles and onions.”

“No onions,” she teased. “I don’t want you driving away the customers.” Annie leaned closer and brushed a kiss across his lips. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“For what?”

“For this,” she said. “For believing I could do this. You deserve a lot more than a kiss, but that will have to wait until later.”

He grabbed her shoulder and gave her another quick kiss. “I can hardly wait.”

Annie left the booth with a smile on her face and as she walked to the church and the public bathrooms, she was surprised by the number of people who smiled back at her as they passed. Everyone was in such a good mood.

By the time she reached the lunch tent, she was feeling almost euphoric. All of her fears had dissipated and she felt as if she could handle almost anything. Until she came face-to-face with Sam Decker.

“Annie,” he said, the greeting coming out with a gasp. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

After their last conversation, she wasn’t sure they’d ever speak again. She’d been brutally honest with him and she knew she’d hurt him deeply. “Hi, Sam. How’s it going?”

“Good. It’s going good. It’s—ah, good. Good to see you.” He glanced down at his shoes, pushing a clod of grass around with his toe. “You look real pretty.”

Annie couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you,” she said.

“Can I buy you lunch?” he asked, nodding at the food tent.

“Actually, I just came over to pick up something for Rourke and me. I have a booth here. Next to the guy with the stained glass. You should come over and see it. Maybe pick out a few things to take. I still owe you for the last cord of wood that you brought me.”

“So he’s still here. He’s with you.”

Annie wasn’t sure how to answer that question. She and Rourke hadn’t talked about what they had or didn’t have together. She’d been quite content to take it day by day. But now they’d be forced to define their relationship so everyone else would be able to understand it.

“Yes, he’s still here,” she said softly.

Sam reached out and snatched her hand. She tried to pull away, but he held tight. “Someday, he’s going to go back to wherever he came from, Annie. He doesn’t belong on the island any more than you belong in a big city. And when he leaves, I want you to know that I’ll be waiting. I’m willing to wait for you, Annie.”

“Don’t do that, Sam. Please, don’t.”

He forced a smile, then drew a deep, deliberate breath. “It’s never going to happen, is it?”

“No,” Annie said, the pain in his expression sending a dagger of guilt through her heart.

“No matter what I do or say?”

She shook her head. “No matter what you do or say. It’s not that I don’t care about you, Sam. You’re my friend. And after all you’ve done for me, I wish I could love you. It’s not your fault, it’s mine.”

“People can change, Annie. Maybe you can change, too?”

His words took her by surprise. He had changed. More than she ever thought he could. Why wasn’t that possible for her? Why couldn’t she learn to trust? Why couldn’t she allow herself to love Rourke?

She glanced around, then tugged her fingers from his grasp. “I—I’ll see you...later. Come by and pick out a painting before all the good ones are gone.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll do that.”

Annie spun on her heel and hurried through the crowd. When she reached her tent, she found Rourke relaxing on the lawn chair, sipping a bottle of cold water. He smiled at her as she stepped behind the table. “I sold one of the oils,” he said. “Three hundred dollars.” He frowned. “No lunch?”

“The line was too long,” Annie lied. “I’ll go back again later.” She leaned up against the edge of the table and watched him for a long moment. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” he said. “The answer is yes. I do expect a commission from that sale. I’ll take it in sexual favors.”

“That wasn’t my question,” Annie said. “How would you describe our relationship? I mean, are you my friend? My boyfriend? Should I call you my lover? I need to know.”

“Why?”

“So I know what to tell people when they ask.”

“Who’s asking?”

“I just ran into Sam. And I didn’t know what to say to him. I think we might want to...define things.”

“All right,” he said slowly. “Well, I guess I am your friend. And I’m your lover. And your boyfriend. All three. How’s that?”

Annie grinned at him, then nodded. “That’s fine. You’re my boyfriend.” She giggled. “I’ve never had a boyfriend. That sounds kind of strange coming out of my mouth.”

“Well, get used to it,” Rourke warned. He stood up. “I’m going to go brave the lunch line and get my girlfriend a burger. What would you like on it?”

“Everything. And bring me two. I’m starving.”

Annie watched him weave through the crowd, smiling to herself. “That’s my boyfriend,” she said.

“Excuse me, are you the artist Annie Macintosh?”

She turned to find an elderly man standing at her table. The question took her by surprise. She was now the girlfriend and the artist, all in one day. “I am,” Annie said.

The man held out his hand. “I’m Franklin Phillips. I publish greeting cards. I’ve had a chance to look at your note cards. The pen-and-ink drawings of the forest animals?”

“I—I’m afraid someone has purchased those already,” Annie said, glancing around the tables.

“My wife did. And she was crazy about them. I’d like to talk to you about publishing some of your art. We do posters and small prints and note cards and fine art calendars. A whole range of products. And we’d like to add you to our roster of artists.”

Annie was stunned. And flattered. But this man had the wrong idea. “My art is just my hobby,” she said. “Just something I do in my spare time.”

He shrugged. “You’re a talent. And I look for talent.” Phillips pulled out a business card and held it out. “I know you’re busy right now, but send some samples of your work to that email address and we’ll talk. I hope to hear from you.”

Annie stared down at the card, not sure what she should think. She should feel excited, but she felt scared. And a bit overwhelmed. Having an actual job with a boss meant responsibilities. Interactions and deadlines. And she really wasn’t an artist, she just played at art. She was a good cook but no one was going to offer her a job as a chef, were they?

She tucked the card into her pocket. And how was she supposed to send him samples of her work? She didn’t have email. She didn’t even have a computer. And if she sold everything she had, there wouldn’t be any work left. This was all so unnerving. Her life had been so simple just a week or two ago. And now it was becoming very complicated.

* * *

R
OURKE
STARED
ACROSS
the table at an exhausted Annie. They’d finished up the day at the art fair and packed up the few pieces that were left. He’d insisted that they go out for dinner to celebrate and they’d decided on a small café in Pearson Bay. He’d considered the day quite a victory, but now that he’d had a chance, Rourke could see what a toll this had all taken on her.

“I counted up the cash,” he said. “Care to take a guess what you made?”

She sighed. “I—I don’t know. A couple thousand?”

“Father John said your booth was one of the most popular. And even though you’ll probably sell out before the weekend, he asked me to tell you about the church’s Christmas craft fair. He hoped you might want to donate something they can raffle off.”

“Sure,” she said.

Rourke reached across the table and grabbed her hand, lacing her fingers through his. “Three thousand seven hundred and sixty. That’s what you made.”

Annie gasped. “Really?”

“Really,” he said. “With the way that you can stretch a dollar, you could do a couple shows a year and have plenty to buy yourself some creature comforts.”

She thought about it for a long moment. “I’ll have enough to buy wood.”

“That’s all that you can imagine doing with your money?”

“Everything that you want me to do just costs more money in the end. If I get electricity in the cottage, I have an electrical bill every month. If I get heat, I have a propane bill. If I buy a car so I can get to art fairs, there’s insurance and gas and upkeep. Things get much more complicated. There are so many obligations.”

Rourke nodded. Somehow, he knew she was talking about more than just selling her artwork. Until now, her life had been self-contained. She didn’t need anyone other than herself to survive. But the more she ventured away from the cottage, the more she’d come to depend on others. “I see your point. Isn’t there something you really need?”

“I need to pay you for the roof and the insulation in the attic.”

“All right. We can start there. And maybe, instead of your bike, we could buy you a scooter. The gas wouldn’t be too much and—”

“I don’t have a driver’s license,” Annie blurted out.

“Then a moped. I don’t think you need a license for that. It would make your trip into town much easier and faster. And you wouldn’t have to struggle against the wind that comes off the Atlantic.”

“I suppose I could...” She met his gaze. “Can we go? I really want to go home.”

“We just ordered.” Rourke smiled. “I’ll ask the waitress if we can get it to take away.”

This brightened her expression. “Yes. Let’s do that.”

Rourke flagged down the waitress and made the request, then finished his beer. He saw Betty Gillies across the café and gave her a wave. To his surprise, she made a beeline for their table.

“Rourke!” she said. “And Annie.”

“Hi, Betty,” Rourke said.

“Hello,” Annie murmured.

“I just had to come over and tell Annie how everyone is talking about her art. We never knew you had such talent.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“I do have a proposition for you. I’m vice president of the Cape Breton Bird-watchers Association and we do a yearly fund-raiser. We were wondering if you’d create some note cards for us. Of course, we’d pay you. And we’d get a printer to donate the printing. It would be a way to have your art seen by many people, both on and off the island.”

Annie glanced over at Rourke. He could tell she wasn’t sure what to say. But it was time for her to make her own decisions. “It sounds like a good idea.”

“Yes,” Annie said.

“Yes, it’s a good idea?” Betty asked. “Or yes, you’ll do it?”

“Both,” Annie said, forcing a smile.

“All right then. We’ll talk more the next time you stop by the hardware store. We’ll need something by January. Not many summer birds to draw now. But we have many photos to share. Well, I’ll let you get back to your meal. Thank you, Annie. We’re very excited to find such a talent on the island.”

Betty hurried out and a few seconds later, the waitress appeared, carrying their dinner in two paper bags. Rourke quickly paid the bill, then walked with Annie to the front door. When they got outside, he could see her relax. Her shoulders, once tense, now dropped, and she drew a deep breath of the cool night air.

“It’s been quite a day,” he said.

“I don’t have many memories of my childhood, at least not memories that include my parents. But I do remember one thing very well. They took me to a carnival one summer. I must have been four or five. It was before my mother got really...sick. And the three of us went on a Ferris wheel. I sat between them and we went up so high and they were both laughing. I was happy and scared all at once. We were so far off the ground and I thought we might fall. But I was tucked in between them and they were keeping me safe. I knew there was something going on between them. They fought a lot and my mother would take to her bed for days. But for that one day, we were all so happy.”