A Place to Call Home. Kathryn Springer

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 bright smile and unexpected sense of humor rose easily to the surface but several times during the tour Quinn had sensed her retreating within herself. And the flash of panic in her eyes when he’d told her that he planned to stay on-site had bothered him, too. For a split second, she’d seemed…afraid.

      Or he was imagining things?

      At one point, Quinn had trusted his instincts about people. Not anymore. A six-month assignment working for the Raynes family had cured him of that.

      Forcing thoughts of Abby aside for the moment, Quinn walked toward the cedar-sided cabin positioned closest to the house. The one with an unobstructed view of the driveway.

      His foot touched the first step. And went right through it.

      Perfect.

      Quinn tugged his shoe free and continued the inspection. The wooden screen door sagged on its hinges and it looked as if a family of chipmunks had taken up residence in the fireplace.

      He was prowling around the tiny kitchen when he heard Abby’s breathless voice. “Are you in here?”

      “Yup.”

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