“You mentioned a brother. Alex. Do you have other siblings?” Quinn thrust his hands in his pockets, jostling her hand from his arm.
A heartbeat of silence preceded her answer. “No. Just Alex. He’s eight years older than I am. He was finishing his last semester of college but he came home and took over the…I mean—” Abby caught herself. “He kept things going.”
Took over, Quinn thought wryly, was probably a more accurate description. Still, he couldn’t imagine the kind of pressure Alex Porter had faced after the death of their parents. Not only had he stepped into his father’s shoes as CEO of Porter Hotels, he’d become an instant guardian to a much younger sibling. It went a long way in explaining why he was so protective of Abby.
Their eyes met and she backpedaled, almost tripping over the laundry basket in the process. “I’ll put these sheets and towels inside the cabin for you.”
Quinn released a sigh as the two dogs bounded after her. When he followed a few minutes later, he found Abby in the kitchen, eyeing the meager bag of groceries he’d dumped in the middle of the kitchen table.
“You brought…food.”
“I don’t expect you to provide my meals.”
Abby’s teeth tucked into her lower lip, a habit that Quinn had noticed seemed to coincide with her desire to say something she wasn’t sure she should. The trait must have slipped through the cracks of the Porter DNA. Alex had no trouble saying what was on his mind.
“I know, but…” She picked up a can of ravioli and it looked to Quinn as if she shuddered. “It’s silly to cook for myself when I can easily make enough for two.”
Sharing meals with Abby. Quinn stifled a groan. Granted, it meant more time in her company but it also meant…more time in her company.
He scooped up a few cans of tuna and shoved them in the cupboard. “That isn’t necessary. I’ll make do.”
“I’ve been trying out different recipes to serve to the guests.” Abby paused to study the label on a loaf of white bread. “Daniel was my official food critic. And since you’re taking his place as my carpenter, you might as well take his place as the taste tester, too.”
The offer was reasonable. And generous. At the moment, Quinn wasn’t sure he was in the mood to be either. He didn’t want to get to know Abby better. “Thanks, but I’ll get more done if I work at my own pace and don’t have to stop for meals at certain times.”
I’ll get more done. He’d said the words deliberately but Abby didn’t react the way he’d expected. Instead, she stared at him thoughtfully, as if he were a chessboard and she was studying her next move.
“Mmm.” That was all she said. But instead of leaving, Abby began to sort through the groceries and put them away. Quinn joined in, only to speed up the process so he could get back to work. And put some distance between them again.
She clucked her tongue with something that sounded like disapproval.
Quinn slanted a look at Abby and caught her frowning at the can of soup in her hand. “What’s wrong? Is it expired?”
“It’s chicken noodle.”
“So?”
“If you put chicken and water and some noodles into a pot, it turns into chicken noodle soup. Homemade. Which means it tastes better.”
“That takes time.”
“So?”
Quinn resisted the urge to smile when Abby tossed the word back at him. “So I work a lot. It’s easier to open a can.”
Both were the truth. He didn’t work full-time as a carpenter, which was what Abby assumed he did for a living, but the long hours spent rebuilding O’Halloran Security called for sacrifices in other areas. Like his entire life. But that didn’t appear to matter. Abby rolled her eyes and put it in the cupboard next to a box of generic macaroni and cheese.
“Macaroni. Cheese. This isn’t hard to make, either,” she muttered.
“Really?” Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Because I would think it’s extremely challenging to locate fluorescent orange cheese, grind it into a powder and seal it in a tiny foil package.”
Abby laughed. The lilting sound poured through the tiny kitchen. And swept right through his defenses. Fortunately, Abby’s cell phone chirped, granting him a few moments to shore them up again.
“I’m sorry.” She glanced at the number and a shadow skimmed through her eyes. “I should take this.”
“No problem.” Quinn retreated to the cabin deck and picked up one of the windows. Through the screen, he could hear one side of the conversation.
“I don’t care and I don’t think my attorney will, either.” A long silence followed before Abby spoke again, her tone glacial. “Did he mention that Abby Porter is the one who called? No? Well, you might want to mention my name…yes. Thank you.”
Quinn’s lips twisted.
He’d never have put that autocratic, hand-me-my-crown-and-scepter voice with the woman in the paint-splattered T-shirt who’d offered to make him dinner.
What’s the matter? You expected to see this side of her.
That was true. But he hadn’t expected to be so disappointed.
Chapter Four
“In other words, the Lord is giving you another opportunity to trust Him. And to grow.”
Abby sighed, knowing her friend was right. Jessica always had a wonderful way of cutting to the heart of an issue and letting God’s light shine through the cracks.
“With all the opportunities He’s been giving me lately, I should be growing as fast as Jack’s beanstalk,” Abby grumbled good-naturedly.
Jessica chuckled. “No one said opening a bed-and-breakfast would be easy. But do you still think it’s worth it?”
“Yes.” Abby didn’t hesitate.
“There you go, then.” Jessica’s smile was evident in her voice. “So, what happened today that made you doubt it? Another pleasant phone call from Alexander the Great?”
Abby choked. “Jessica.”
“Sorry. Did I say that with a lack of proper reverence? I didn’t mean to.”
She had and they both knew it. Abby grinned. “I’m surprised Alex didn’t fire you after I left. He suspects you were the one who put the idea of a bed-and-breakfast into my head, you know.”
“But if he fires me he’ll also lose one of his best managers. Who, by the way, happens to be my loving—and very loyal—husband.”
“You’re right about that.”
Alex, for all his controlling ways, depended on Tony Benson to keep the cogs in all four hotels running smoothly. If he ever decided to leave, Abby knew that her brother would feel as if he were missing his right arm.
“Of course I am,” Jessica said smugly. “So if I can’t blame Alex, what was the challenge of the day?”
An image of Quinn’s face flashed in Abby’s mind before she could prevent it.
“I told you that Daniel Redstone won a vacation and took two weeks off, right?” Abby plucked a wooden spoon out of a ceramic crock on the counter.