The Mighty Quinns: Ronan Read Online Free

with each stroke. Charlie watched him for a moment, her gaze falling on the finely cut muscles in his arms. A shiver skittered down her spine and she turned and hurried back upstairs to clean up the tasting room. A bit of privacy gave her a chance to take a deep breath and focus her runaway thoughts—on Ronan Smith. It was an odd name, Ronan.
    She grabbed the bottle and guzzled the remainder of the champagne, then opened another split. He’d mentioned he was from Seattle. She really ought to ask for references. Or a resume. For all she knew, he could be a criminal or a con artist—or a competitor, out to get an inside look at their operation.
    Sliding onto one of the stools, she opened up another oyster and slurped it down. Ronan was a complete enigma. But then, when it came to men, she really didn’t know what she was doing. She’d only had one romantic relationship in her life and that had lasted six years.
    She and Danny had started dating when they were juniors in high school, playing opposite each other in the school musical. When they graduated, they were both determined to chase their dreams on Broadway.
    But New York was a rude awakening. Danny was easily discouraged and took a full time job selling cell phones. After some minor parts in a criminal drama, a series of commercials for generic laundry detergent, and an appearance in an off-off-Broadway play, Charlie was beginning to break through.
    But as she got more work, Danny became more and more distant—and jealous. Their relationship began to fracture and Charlie realized that New York wasn’t where she wanted to be. So, she moved out and came home to Sibleyville, older and a little wiser.
    She glanced up at the chef’s mirror above the granite counter. A groan slipped from her throat. Her chestnut hair looked liked a tangle of seaweed. Charlie grabbed a clean oyster brush from the drawer next to the fridge and ran it though the shoulder-length strands, then pinched her cheeks to give herself some color.
    She rarely wore make-up when she was working and usually didn’t care to dress in anything that showed off her figure. Yet she couldn’t help but regret that it wasn’t the New York City actress Charlotte Sibley that opened the door to Ronan Smith rather than the oyster farmer Charlie Sibley.
    She looked at herself in the mirror once more. Though she could pretend to be a myriad of interesting and exotic characters, Charlie knew that the woman she was would have to be enough.
    Shaking her head, she walked to the door, but found herself off balance from the champagne she’d guzzled. If she was going to hire Ronan, than she’d have to keep her feelings to herself and her wits about her. A man like Ronan probably had women drooling over him everyday. And Charlie had never aspired to be one of the crowd.
    * * *
    R ONAN SMOOTHED HIS hand over the hull of the twenty-foot skiff. The boat was old, maybe sixty or seventy years old from the clues he’d found in the construction. Nowadays, most commercial outfits chose fiberglass boats for their easy upkeep and long life.
    “How’s it going?”
    He glanced up to see Charlie watching him. Jaysus, she was pretty. Her wavy dark hair framed a beautiful face, each of her features a perfect complement to the others. She had the kind of beauty that made him want to sit her down in front of him so he might study her in greater detail, like a fine painting or a famous sculpture.
    “Good. This is a beautiful boat,” he said. “I love the lines.”
    “It’s old,” she said.
    “They don’t make them like this anymore. I think the best boats are made of wood.”
    “My dad would totally agree with you.” Charlie came closer to examine his work. “You’re very thorough,” she murmured.
    The compliment pleased him, more so because it came from her. “This scraper is kind of dull. If you’ve got a way for me to sharpen it, I’d get more done. And you might want to use a better grade of marine paint next