the results of a new recipe while the elderly carpenter entertained her with stories about small town life. His off-key whistle provided comforting background music in the late afternoon when Abby moved outside to weed the flowerbeds.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that Quinn’s presence wouldn’t be quite so comforting.
“You must have a place of your own,” she stammered.
“I live a few miles north of town, so I would have a half hour’s commute every day,” Quinn said. “Look at it this way—I can put in longer days if I’m staying on-site. Shave some time off the project. Nothing against Daniel, but I work a little faster than he does.”
“I don’t—”
“And I could use the hours.”
Abby’s protest died in her throat. Quinn’s voice had remained neutral but the subtle tightening of his jaw told her the admission had cost him. She felt a stab of guilt, knowing her hesitance had forced him to confess that he needed the extra income.
She could pay his mileage…
Just as she opened her mouth to make the offer, another thought pushed its way in.
Was it possible that Quinn was, in a roundabout way, an answer to her prayers? The grand opening was scheduled for the beginning of August but even Daniel had been skeptical they’d make the deadline. Abby planned to focus her attention for the next few weeks on the great room but several of the cabins still needed work. If Quinn finished remodeling them, she could be at capacity opening weekend.
Just because God hadn’t answered her prayer in the way she expected didn’t mean that He hadn’t answered it.
Okay, God, I’m going to assume Your hand is in this.
Abby forced a smile. “You might be ready to escape at the end of the day once you see what kind of shape the cabins are in.”
“I’ll stay until the job is finished.” Quinn’s eyes met hers. “You can count on it.”
Abby’s heart did a curious little flip and she backed away from that quicksilver gaze. Realizing her hands were clenched into fists at her side, she forced herself to relax.
Daniel, she reminded herself, was the closest thing she had to a friend in Mirror Lake. He wouldn’t have asked Quinn to take his place if he didn’t trust him. And with the grand opening looming, Daniel probably thought he’d done her a favor by suggesting that Quinn live on the grounds.
She released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Two of the cabins are finished so you can take your pick. Both have kitchenettes and full baths…”
The cell phone in her pocket interrupted, playing the dramatic opening notes of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5. A special ring tone for a bossy big brother.
Abby took it out of her pocket but instead of answering it, she shut off the sound.
“I don’t mind if you take a call,” Quinn said.
“That’s all right. I don’t mind ignoring this one.” Abby released a sigh. “My brother calls at least once a day to ask if I’ve come to my senses yet.”
“Come to your senses?”
“He’s a little overprotective.” An understatement, but at the moment Abby couldn’t come up with a better description. “He’s part of the reason I bought this place. I love my brother but he doesn’t understand that God might have a different plan for my life than the one he thinks I should follow.”
God.
The comfortable way she said the word made Quinn…uncomfortable. Sure, he believed that God existed, but if the people living in Mirror Lake were reluctant to give an O’Halloran a second chance, Quinn didn’t expect that God would, either. Especially when they’d parted company long ago.
“What does your brother think you should do?” he asked.
“Give in,” Abby muttered under her breath.
Quinn raised a questioning brow.
“We have a…family business and he wanted me to stay there.” A fascinating blush of pink tinted her ivory cheeks.
Interesting. Abby seemed reluctant to let him know just what that family business revolved around.
It seemed they both had their secrets.
“You didn’t like it,” Quinn prompted.
“I didn’t say that.”
He frowned. “Then why—”
Abby’s phone rang again. Quinn gave her points for her sense of humor. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the ominous opening notes from one of Beethoven’s most famous symphonies warned of an incoming call from Alex.
“Did I say overprotective?” Abby rolled her eyes. “I meant overbearing. And persistent. Which means I should probably get this over with or he’ll keep calling.”
And calling and calling, Quinn wanted to add. The normally unflappable Faye McAllister was still suffering from post-traumatic Porter syndrome. “Not a problem. I’ll meet you down by the cabins.”
“Thank you.” Abby’s bright smile surfaced. And lingered in his memory as Quinn left the room.
“Hi, Big Brother,” he heard her say. “And yes, you can take that in the George Orwell 1984 way that I intended it.”
As the screen door snapped shut behind him, a smile pulled at the corner of Quinn’s lips.
Alex had mentioned that he and Abby had had a falling-out when she’d left Chicago, but Quinn didn’t miss the exasperated affection in Abby’s tone when she’d described her brother. And Alex’s frustration over her decision to move to Mirror Lake hadn’t overridden his desire to look out for her, no matter how stubborn he thought she was being.
They cared about each other.
Quinn ignored a pinch of envy. That kind of family loyalty was foreign to him.
Stepping onto the deck, he almost tripped over Mulligan, asleep in a pool of sunshine. He shook his head. Abby could have chosen a more protective breed, especially given the isolated location of the inn.
Abby thought everyone deserved a second chance.
If Abby Porter lived in the real world instead of an ivory tower, she’d realize that most people didn’t share her view.
Mulligan rolled to his feet and trotted after Quinn as he crossed the lawn toward the cabins.
Home, sweet home. For the next two weeks.
Even though he’d agreed to Alex’s terms, Quinn planned to play by his own set of rules. That meant he would satisfy the job requirements by being close enough to see the main house and yet be able to keep an eye on whoever was coming and going.
And on Abby.
The ease with which he shifted back into his former role surprised him a little. A little over a year ago, he’d emptied his locker at Hamlin Security, nodded to the former colleague who’d walked him out of the building and drove away without a backward glance.
Until Alex Porter had temporarily forced him back into the business.
Two weeks, he reminded himself. For O’Halloran Security, he could put up with anything.
Even Abby Porter’s smile.
Quinn paused, silently judging the distance between the buildings before cataloging everything else around him. The lodge. The cabins. The boathouse. Even the trees. It gave him an immediate sense of what fit so he would instantly know if something didn’t.
So far, the only thing that didn’t quite fit was Abby’s reaction to him.
She got as tense as a new bowstring if he got too close.
Her