fbpx

We’ve hit the five day mark and today, I’d like to introduce you to Bo’s brother, Quinn Sheehan. Like all the Sheehan men, Quinn loves the ladies – but only for a short time before he’s on to the next. Drama, emotions, and talk of happily ever after confuses a man who spends his days reading the Wall Street Journal and crunching numbers for a billion-dollar company. The one woman he does care about is his baby sister.

On Tuesday, Bo grabbed her toolbox and Quinn’s keys to head to the Sugar Shack. “I should be back in about an hour. Two, tops.”

“When are you going to get your own wheels?” he demanded from his chair at her kitchen table, his daily issue of The Wall Street Journal spread out on the oaken surface like a table runner.

“When are you leaving?” she countered. As if he didn’t trust her on her own, her brother had made himself at home both on her couch and in her brewery. Having him constantly underfoot was seriously messing with her head.

He looked up from his newspaper to glare at her. “Seriously, Bo, you can’t keep depending on other people to get you around. This isn’t Manhattan with mass transit on every corner. You need your own reliable method of transportation.”

“I’m working on it.”

He harrumphed and flipped to the next page with a series of crinkles. “Not hard enough.”

“Look who’s talking. I don’t see you packing up your bags to go home. Seriously, when are you leaving?”

“Soon as I can find a decent place to stay.”

Hope flared, and spurts of joy burst inside her. Oh, happy day. He’d be out of her home—out of her hair—soon. “I thought you loved your place in Greenwich.”

“I do. I’m looking for a house here in Silverton.”

Joy flipped to dread, and she dropped the keys on the tile floor with a clatter. “Here? You’re buying a house here?”

He didn’t even look up from the paper. “Maybe. Unless I can find a decent place to rent.”

“For how long?”

“A year.”

“You’re gonna be here a whole year?!” God, she’d go nutty if he stuck around that long. “Why? Dammit, Quinn. Go home. I don’t need you here.”

“That’s not up to you. Only Dad can tell me when I can leave.” He folded his paper and clasped his hands atop the stack of stock futures and business news. “I’ll make a deal with you. Show me you’re okay on your own, I can report that back to him, and be out of here that much sooner. But if you give me a bunch of reasons to stay, you’ll never get rid of me.”

She sighed her exasperation. “Come on, Quinn. You don’t have to stay here for a year. I’m fine. I’ve got Ian and Connie looking out for me, Mitch looking out for me, even Drew is looking out for me. I don’t need you, too.”

“Okay, prove it. What’s the deal on a car for you?”

Yeah, well, umm… To buy time, she bent to pick up the dropped keys. “As soon as I scrape up enough money for a set of decent wheels, I’ll get something.”

“Not a good answer. How much are we talking about?”

“None of your business.”

He rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. “Bo…”

“Don’t ‘Bo’ me like I’m a disobedient toddler. I didn’t lose my money due to some bad investments or because I blew it on shoes and pretty dresses. Yes, I’m stretched a bit tight financially at the moment, but I’ll survive. I’m cutting back until the brewery starts showing a profit and I’ve finished paying Dad back what he invested in me.”

“That’s going to be years. Are you really thinking you can get away without a car for that long?”

She gripped the keys in her hand tight enough for the metal to cut into her palm. “I told you. I’ll buy something as soon as I scrape up the money.”

“Fine. Tell me how much you need, and I’ll give you the money.”

She sighed. He meant well. They all did. None of them understood her need to do this on her own. “I’m not going to take money from you or Mal or Patrick or Seamus. I’m a grown woman. I can handle doing without for a while until I can afford what I need. You all have to stop treating me like the naïve victim who can’t survive without a bunch of big, strong, smart men around me. I’m a capable, adult woman. I won’t die if I miss a meal and I don’t need a babysitter reporting back to Daddy every time I falter. I’m perfectly capable of picking myself up when I stumble. I think I’ve proved that by now.” He started to say something, and she held up a hand. “I’m willing to put up with you a little while longer to assuage Dad’s fears, but a year is out of the question. So if you’re going to be here more than a few weeks, you better find a new hobby besides me. I’m nobody’s charity project.”

Before he could continue the argument, she strode out the door and into the car.