Page 25 of Quinn

Connor’s wife chuckled. “You’d think we never fed the man.”

That made Danny laugh and Quinn noticed the hint of apprehension he’d detected in his stance seemed to fade away.

Inside, the home beamed with a warm welcome. Everyone alert to the newcomer’s comfort.

“Coffee?” Aunt Eileen offered. “Or would you prefer something cold after your drive?”

“Coffee would be great, ma’am.” Danny’s military courtesy showed through.

“If you’re okay with it, call me Aunt Eileen. Everyone does.”

“Yes, ma—Aunt Eileen.”

“There you go.” His aunt beamed.

To everyone’s delight, since they were all aware of Danny’s challenges, everyone was thrilled that he didn’t seem overwhelmed by the size of the family. Of course, when the entire clan came around and descended on him, that might be a whole different story.

Eloise had already started pulling dishes from the warming oven, and the aroma of home cooking filled the air.

“Need any help?” Danny asked his sister. One eyebrow higher than the other, she shot her brother a knowing glare. Taking a step back, Danny raised his hands in a surrender motion and smiled. “Scratch that. What was I thinking?”

The stern expression was replaced quickly with a bright smile and sunny disposition that Quinn had become so used to. It was just one of the many things he loved about Eloise—no matter what, she always had a warm smile…Loved. Did he just say he loved Eloise? Of course he did, he loved a lot of people. Even the Sisters. But Eloise? What he felt for her was nothing like his affection for the Sisters.

“Are you going to stand there all night growing roots, or are you going to help get this feast on the table?” Aunt Eileen shoved a large bowl of warm cheddar biscuits at him.

Wrapping his arms around the bowl, he glanced at Eloise, merrily stirring something on the stove, then back to his aunt. “Anything else I can take?”

“Start here.” His aunt waved at the doorway to the dining room.

The evening slid by without a hitch, carefully orchestrated by Aunt Eileen to be welcoming without overwhelming. Too bad his aunt couldn’t do anything for the thoughts now swirling around in his head. There was no doubt that he loved Eloise’s cooking, and that smile, it was infectious, able to lift any man out of a bad mood. Then there was that vulnerability in her gaze that made him want to scoop her up and protect her from the world. And he’d never felt anything like that about the Sisters. So, what exactly did he feel for Eloise?

Chapter Twelve

“Ready for the grand tour?” Eloise welcomed her brother, who had caught a ride to Sadieville with one of the production crew. Practically ready to burst at the seams, she couldn’t contain her excitement at sharing her latest venture with her big brother.

The morning sun streamed through the front windows, highlighting the rich tones of the restored hardwood floors and turning the brass fixtures to gold. Danny’s footsteps echoed in the quiet space as he took it all in.

“This hall is mostly tables, more casual. Eventually, there will be room for dancing if we have live music. The next hall over is a bit more formal, private, and thanks to the carpeting, quiet. Eventually, we hope it will be reservation only.”

“This is incredible, El.” He ran his hand along the paneled wall to one side, then looked up at the ceiling and the crystal fixtures. “When you said historic building, I pictured something…” He gestured vaguely.

“More rundown?” She grinned. “You should have seen it before. The Farradays are miracle workers.”

The cobalt blue drapes she and the designer had agreed on brought a burst of bright to the otherwise classic décor of white table clothes and the carpeting in the next room. One of the tables was already set with gold rimmed white china, and flower vase center table. “No napkins?” Danny teased.

“Depends.” She loved that this restaurant would be casual at lunch, and then, by dinner time, convert to fine dining. “There will be white and black napkins depending on what the customer is wearing.”

“Excuse me?” He blinked. “You’re coordinating napkins with clothing.”

Her head bobbed. “Yes. You don’t want a woman in a black velvet skirt to have flecks of white linen on her lap.”

“Ah,” Danny’s confusion converted to a broad smile, “and if she’s wearing white—”

“Or pastel.”

“Or pastel,” he repeated, “then the white linen so they don’t have residue of black flecks.”

“Exactly.” She loved that he seemed as pleased by the detail as she was.

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