Page 51 of Quinn, By Design

Like her gran, he showed he cared through acts of service. So could she.

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Dawn was breaking ona crisp autumn Sunday morning. Niall had been in his workshop for an hour. Pushing himself for an extra fifteen minutes or a half hour or an hour had become routine. Alerted by his system of flashing lights, he pushed himself upright, pulled his goggles around his neck and rolled his shoulders. He checked the message from Anna on his phone, drained his tea and returned to dismantling the second Gothic chair for Lucy.

“You can avoid me for just so long, boyo, then you’re dead meat.” Anna pocketed her phone when he swung the door wide thirty minutes later, and tilted her head to one side, listening. “Paul Simon’s ‘Wristband.’ That’s a blast from the past.”

“Lovely to see you, Anna. He suited my mood.” A six-foot-eight guard baring all comers from Niall’s door would have been welcome this morning. “How can I help you?” He braced for her succinct annihilation of his excuses.

“You can answer my texts and emails and tell me why your page for the exhibition isn’t live on your website yet?” Anna stabbed a finger into his chest. “It should have been live two weeks ago.”

“I’m having second thoughts.” He turned his back on her, always a dangerous move.

She grabbed his arm and, because she worked out and was stronger than she looked, she tugged him back to face her. Scanning his face, her expression went from irritated to concerned at what she saw. The woman could read body language across a crowded room, so what hope did he have?

“Tell Anna all about it.” She tucked her hand through his arm and half-pulled, half-dragged him to the table under the window. She pushed him into a chair but remained standing. “And I meanallabout it. This is not a good move.”

“I haven’t finished enough pieces,” he said the words aloud for the first time, although his head was near to bursting with the brutal reality.

“Stop everything else and make more.” Anna excelled at identifying solutions.

“I’m still under contract with Leopold’s.” For another two weeks, until the last job was finished, but non-negotiable. He’d promised his brother the money, and he’d never broken a contract in his life.

“That’s a self-imposed penance, and why the Quinn brothers have to compete for saint of the week is beyond me.” The flamenco tap of her boot heel was a dance of frustration.

“He’s carried the load a long time.” He played his strongest card. “Don’t you think he and Kate deserve a cushion now the babe’s coming.”

“Not gonna catch me on that one. I can be as sooky as the next person about babies, but this isn’t about Leopold’s contract.” She paced off the line of finished frames resting against the side wall. “You were juggling the frames and the pieces for the exhibition very nicely six weeks ago.” She came to the end of the line and stopped in front of a set of two mahogany Gothic revival side chairs. “More restoration for Lucy.”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged.

“No perhaps about it. They’re antiques, they’re broken, and they’re sitting in the middle of your workshop on aSunday.” She invested the word with all the loathing of a vegetarian for a piece of rare steak. “There’s not even a scent of a Quinn piece in the place.”

“I owe her granda a lot.” He gripped the back of his neck and rotated his head, although the ache was in his heart more than his muscle memory. Cam had put both Niall and Lucy in an impossible position with his will.

“She didn’t strike me as a selfish cow.” Anna tipped up one chair and examined the fracture down the straight back leg. “She said she liked your work.”

“She’s not. She does. Cam left complications for Lucy too.” Niall would defend her as long as he had breath. His quibbles were with the old man’s machinations.

“Just a guess here, my carpenter friend. We all had to keep shtum about the exhibition last week because you haven’t told her about it.”

“Correct.”

“Single-word answers don’t cut it with me.” She wandered back toward him, her arms crossed—Athena on the warpath. “You must be confusing me with my sweet, somewhat distracted sister.”

“Never.” He loved Anna’s loyalty to friends and family, her pushiness when she was worried.

“Another one-word answer,” she muttered.

“Couldn’t resist.” He rose and wrapped his arms around her, resting his cheek on her crown, so she couldn’t see his face. “Her granda gave me this workspace, gave me the opportunity to create the pieces for the exhibition. She needs some help to get through this early grieving period.”

“I’m guessing you’re giving her more than your days.”

“Lucy’s working on a special opening at McTavish’s, but yeah, we’re spending some time together.” Late meals, snatched lovemaking, falling asleep in each other’s arms, and getting up early to do it all again. In the hushed conversations before sleep, mostly he asked about how her plans were progressing, and kept shtum about the collapse of his own.

“You’re in love with her,” she said, half-question, half-statement, and her words made his heart race with impossible longings.

“I can wait a bit longer for my exhibition.”

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