The Mighty Quinns: Dermot-Dex. Kate Hoffmann

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Rachel listened to his breathing. She wondered what he was thinking. But she was afraid to ask. Instead, she pressed a kiss into the center of his chest.

      “You know what I could go for? A nice, cool bath.”

      He reached down and grabbed her hand. “Lead the way.”

       6

      “ARE YOU GOING TO tell me where we’re going?” Dermot asked as he slid behind the wheel of the pickup.

      “We’re going on a field trip,” Rachel said.

      They’d finished the milking for the morning and Rachel had ordered him out of his barn clothes and into something “decent.” At first Dermot had assumed they were going into town for breakfast, but she’d fed him at the kitchen table, perching on a chair and staring at him until he finished.

      “I always hated field trips in school. We never went anywhere interesting.”

      “What would you consider interesting?”

      “The zoo? Maybe a natural history museum? Even a decent library.”

      “Then you’re probably not going to like this.” She pointed to the ignition. “Start the truck. We’re heading west.”

      Dermot drove the pickup out of the driveway and headed away from Mapleton. “So, what am I going to learn today? It’s not a field trip unless I learn something.”

      She sighed in frustration. “You’re going to learn to be patient and enjoy the ride.”

      He chuckled softly. “I already know how to do that. I do that every night with you.”

      “Funny,” she said. “And this comes because all you think about is sex. This is about business. I have to go sign a new contract with Briar Hollow Cheese. We sell our milk to them. You’ll get a chance to taste some of their cheese.”

      “Cool,” he said. “I knew I’d get it out of you.”

      “They make chèvre, which is traditional goat cheese. And also feta and bouchon, which is like parmesan cheese. We’ll bring some home and I’ll make something with it tonight. And I want to send some home with you, too. So you have something to remember us by.”

      “I don’t need cheese to remember you,” he said. “I’ve got a lot of other things I’ll remember.”

      “Like what?” she asked.

      “Oh, let me see. I’ll remember how your hair smells in the morning when I wake up and you’ve stolen my pillow. And I’ll remember the sound of your laugh when you’re watching the kids scamper around their pen. I’ll remember sitting across from you in the evening and sharing supper together.” He paused. “I’ll even remember this.”

      Rachel slid over and sat next to him, dropping a kiss on his cheek. “Good. I’m happy to hear that.”

      The drive to the cheese factory was passed with lighthearted chatter. Now that they’d actually decided not to think about the future, it took some of the pressure off them both. Dermot was happy, but he could see that there were moments where Rachel wasn’t so enthusiastic. Something he said or did would put her in a dark mood for a short time and he’d have to tease her out of it. He felt like he was rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.

      Briar Hollow was a small operation, set close to the road in a rural area. Dermot pulled into the parking lot and then hopped out and circled around the truck. He opened the door for Rachel and grabbed her around the waist, setting her on the ground.

      “You’ll like Ben,” she said. “He’s a real artisan. Every year, he goes to France for a few weeks and studies cheese making with a master. His cheeses are used in a lot of the best restaurants in Chicago.”

      A bell above the door rang as they entered. Rachel introduced him to Ben’s daughter, Ellen, who stood behind the counter. “This is my friend Dermot Quinn. He’s been working at the farm, but he’s leaving in a couple weeks. I wanted to send some cheese home to Seattle with him.”

      Ellen regarded him with a curious look, then held out her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Dermot. You two just take whatever you want from the cases. I’ll get you a box.”

      “Ben called me. I’m here to sign another contract,” Rachel added.

      Ellen handed her a box. “I’ll tell Ben you’re here.”

      They walked around the shop and Rachel fed Dermot little samples from glass-covered dishes. When Ben walked into the shop, she introduced the men and they all sat down together. “Dermot’s learning a little more about the dairy,” Rachel explained.

      “Good,” Ben said. “Well, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Something very important.”

      “What is it?” Rachel asked, worried at the serious tone in his voice.

      “We just took on a new wholesaler. They’re going to give us a national brand so we need more from each of our dairies. Over the next year, we’d like to see you double your production.” Rachel gasped and he held up his hand. “Now, I know your situation. But this would increase your profit margins, which might make it possible for you to hire the help you need.”

      Dermot looked at the stricken expression on Rachel’s face. “I—I don’t think I can do it, Ben,” she said. “I’d love to help you out, but there just aren’t enough hours in the day.”

      Dermot cleared his throat. “Wait a second. Rachel, we can figure out a—”

      Rachel quickly stood. “Can I have some time to think about this?”

      “Sure,” Ben said. “Here’s the contract. And you know we’ll buy whatever milk Clover Meadow produces. You’re one of our best dairies. We’ll just be paying more to those dairies that produce more for us. Heck, my daughter, Ellen, and her husband are even thinking about getting into the dairy business. And we’ll be adding to our operation. Another five thousand square feet.”

      “Great,” Rachel said.

      She quickly walked out to the parking lot, forgetting the box of cheese that they’d collected. When she reached the truck, her face was pale and she was gasping for breath. Dermot bent her over at the waist, lowering her head. “Breathe,” he ordered.

      “I—I can’t. I’ve been trying to think of a way to milk fewer goats, not more. I can’t do this. I never wanted to be a goat farmer. Why did my father do this to me?”

      When she looked up, her eyes were full of tears. “My life is all laid out for me. I’m never going to get off the farm. I’m going to be milking goats for the rest of my life.”

      Dermot dragged her into his arms and held her tight. “I’m sure he never wanted you to be unhappy, sweetheart. You know that. Maybe he just wanted to make sure his animals would live out their lives on your farm.”

      She sniffled and looked up at him through watery eyes. “You think?”

      “I think,” Dermot reassured her. “If you can find someone to buy

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