Conor

9

CONOR STOOD outside Quinn’s Pub, staring at the building from across the street. Neon beer signs blazed from the plate-glass windows and Irish music drifted out every time the door opened. His brothers had insisted that he meet them for a drink and he already knew what was going on inside. The pub had played host to many celebrations. Any excuse to hoist a pint or two was welcomed at Quinn’s. But this time, the celebration was meant for Conor.

Earlier that morning, Detective Conor Quinn’s suspension had been lifted. The investigation into the improprieties in the Red Keenan case had been dropped and he was told to be back on the job the next morning. As far as his superiors cared, he’d been guilty of nothing more than poor judgment. Conor sighed softly, his breath clouding in the cold, damp fog that had fallen over Boston. So that was the end of it. Poor judgment.

Somehow, it seemed to be an awfully simple explanation for such a complex time in his life. Hell, a little more than three weeks ago, he’d arrived at that cottage on Cape Cod to do a job. And in the process of doing his job, he’d fallen in love with the most incredible woman he’d ever known. He’d spirited her away, safeguarding her life while violating a host of departmental policies and procedures. And even after the danger was over, he’d tricked her into believing that she still needed his protection.

Poor judgment didn’t even begin to describe his actions over the past few weeks. He’d been crazy, out of his mind, wrapped up in a world that was pure fantasy. Yet here he was, standing in front of Quinn’s, back to his old life and his old ways, ready to spend his evening lost in a bottomless glass of Guinness while he recounted his regrets.

He’d thought about calling Olivia. The trial had begun and was over within three days, Red Keenan choosing to plea bargain against overwhelming evidence provided by his associates. Kevin Ford had never even had to testify, yet he walked as a result of his own plea bargain. In the end, protecting Olivia had become a moot point and everything that they’d shared now existed in a strange limbo between real life and fantasy.

Chances were, Olivia had already settled back into her life. He’d once thought he could be a part of that future, but then he’d been hit with the Internal Affairs investigation. With his job in jeopardy, Conor had believed that he’d had nothing to offer her. But now that he had his job back, he’d begun to fantasize that maybe they could make it work.

She’d never really disappeared from his life. Every hour of every day, he thought about her, replaying their time together over and over again in his head, until he could recite their conversations by heart. He’d learned to conjure up an image of her face, a memory of her scent and her taste, the sound of her laughter, by just closing his eyes and allowing his mind to drift.

At night, when he lay in bed alone, his hands could still feel her silken skin and the soft contours of her naked body molded against his. The memories were so intense that he wondered if they’d ever fade. In truth, he didn’t want them to. He wanted to make more memories, a lifetime full of memories with Olivia.

Yes, things had changed. But he still couldn’t bring himself to contact her. Hell, she was probably better off without him. Now that she was back to her old life, she probably barely thought of him. And he’d never been the sort to settle down into domestic bliss.

Conor cursed softly. But he could be. With Olivia in his life, he could be a loving husband and a terrific father. He wasn’t sure how he knew for certain, but Conor was sure he had what it took to make her happy. She’d given him that, a glimpse inside his heart, a realization that he could love-and be loved-without fear. Olivia wasn’t Fiona Quinn, and if they had a life together, he’d never do anything to make her run away.

He had control, Conor mused. If he wanted to make a relationship work with Olivia, then he could make it work. Conor glanced up and down the street. Suddenly, he needed to see her, to hear her voice and to touch her face. He could make it happen if he just told her how he felt. Conor started toward his car, determined to find her and convince her that he loved her.

“Damn it!”

The sound of a voice on the empty street stopped him short. Only then did he notice a woman bent down on the pavement a few cars away. She seemed to be struggling with a tire iron. A few minutes earlier, he might have been glad for a diversion and an excuse not to go inside the pub. Now that he’d decided to find Olivia, he was anxious to leave. But his duties as a cop couldn’t be put aside. If there was a citizen in distress, he was bound to render aid. He hurried over to the spot. Changing a tire. How long could that take? “Can I help?”

The woman screamed, then jumped to her feet, clutching the tire iron in her fist.

Conor held out his hands. “It’s all right,” he said. “I’m a cop. I can help you.”

The young woman regarded him warily, raising the tire iron a few more inches. “Let me see your badge,” she demanded, the tremor in her voice giving away her fear.

Conor impatiently reached into his pocket and withdrew the leather case, then flipped it open. He should have just walked away. She obviously didn’t want his help. “See,” he said. “Detective Conor Quinn. Boston P.D.”

She blinked in surprise. “Quinn?” Her gaze darted across the street.

“Yeah,” Conor said. “My da owns Quinn’s Pub.” He stared at her for a long moment as the light from the streetlamp caught her face. A strange sense of déjà vu flashed though his mind, so brief that he wasn’t able to focus on it. “You look familiar. Have we met?”

She shook her head. “No. Never.”

But Conor had an eye for faces, a skill well honed by his career as a cop. And he knew he’d seen this woman before. Not in the smoky interior of the bar and not at the bustling squad room at the station, but on a street, in the dark, much like this. “Are you from the neighborhood?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, answering a bit too quickly for his liking.

If she lived in the neighborhood then she should have known it wasn’t the best idea for her to be changing a tire-alone-on a dark street in Southie, she hadn’t hesitated to threaten him with a tire iron. “Where?” he asked.

She pointed off to the west. “Over in that area. Do you think you could help me change my tire? I-I’m in a big hurry.”

Conor took the tire iron from her hand and turned his attention to the stubborn lug nuts. This was exactly what he wanted to be doing right now, getting his hands dirty doing his duty as an officer of the law for a citizen who was obviously lying to him. Once he had the nuts all loosened, he quickly jacked the car up and finished removing them. But his mind really wasn’t on the task at hand. Instead, he was determined to remember where he knew this woman from.

He grabbed the tire and wrestled it off the bolts, then rolled it to the rear of the car. She wasn’t really a woman, but then she wasn’t a girl either. She seemed to be caught in between. Her dark-almost black-hair was cropped short and her delicate features made her look much younger than she probably was. But it was the eyes that made Conor curious. Though she knew he was a cop, they still held a large measure of apprehension and indecision.

“You know, you could have just come into the bar,” he suggested, “and used the phone to call a friend. You shouldn’t be out on a dark street like this alone.” He grabbed the spare and rolled it toward the front of the car.

“I don’t have any friends,” she murmured. “I-I mean, not in the neighborhood. Not home. They’re all…out. So is the bar a family business?”

Conor glanced over his shoulder. “Me and my brothers all take turns working on the weekends.”

“Brothers?” she asked. “You have brothers? How many?”

Conor frowned. For a stranger who lived in the neighborhood but didn’t know exactly where she lived, and didn’t have any friends, she certainly was curious. As he replaced the lug nuts, a slow realization dawned. So that was it! She was probably one of Dylan’s girls or maybe a friend of Brendan’s. His brothers always had women hanging around, giggling and whispering over them, staring at them with cow eyes. The poor girl probably had a crush and was waiting outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of whichever Quinn she’d fallen in love with.

“I have five brothers,” he said, wondering which one she was interested in hearing about. Most girls gravitated toward Dylan, swept away by the notion of being with a real live hero. But there were others who found Brendan’s lust for danger too attractive to resist. And then there were Sean, Brian and Liam, each of them holding their own particular charms.

“Five brothers,” she said. “I-I can’t imagine having five brothers. What are their names?”

Conor stood and brushed off the knees of his jeans, then moved to release the jack. “Dylan, Brendan, Sean, Brian and Liam.” Her eyes went wide and Conor couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor girl. She had it bad for a Quinn. It really didn’t matter much which one, since his little brothers weren’t in the market for love and Conor had already been taken. “They’re all inside waiting for me. Why don’t you come in? You can wash your hands and I’ll buy you a soda.”

She shook her head as if the notion of going inside with him was completely improper. “No!” she cried. “I have to go. I’m late.” She grabbed the tire iron from his hand then scrambled to drag the jack from beneath the bumper. She tossed them both in the back seat then ran to slam the trunk shut. A few seconds later, she roared off down the street, without the flat tire and without even giving Conor a “thank you” for his efforts.

“You’re welcome!” he shouted after her car. He stood on the sidewalk, racking his brain, trying to figure out how he knew her. She looked so familiar. And then he remembered. It had been that night he’d stopped at the pub before heading out to Cape Cod. She’d been walking on the sidewalk in front of the pub and he’d nearly knocked her over. The odd thing was, he’d thought he recognized her that time, too.

Conor shook the memory from his brain, then glanced across the street at Quinn’s. The only woman he wanted to think about right now was Olivia Farrell. And his only concern right now was finding her and telling her how much he cared. Everything else could wait for later.

“KEVIN!”

Olivia stood in the middle of the showroom of the Charles Street store and stared at her former partner. He was the last person she had expected to see! He looked a bit thinner and his complexion had lost its ruddy tone, but he was still the same man. Only now, he was an admitted criminal.

“Hello, Olivia,” he murmured, a faint blush rising to his pale cheeks.

She crossed her arms over her chest, not sure if she ought to be afraid or angry. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, then glanced around the shop. “I’m out,” he said. “I cut a deal to testify against Keenan and against the cops that he’d bought off. But then Keenan cut a deal and I never had to take the stand. I’m a free man.”

“I suppose I should thank you,” Olivia said. “If it weren’t for you, I’d have had to testify.”

His gaze dropped to his expensive Italian loafers. “I’m sorry about that, Olivia. I should have stood up and taken responsibility for what I’d done rather than pass off my problem to you. It was my fault, but now I’ll pay the price. I’ll be the one looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life, wondering if one of Keenan’s associates might be following me.”

“I suppose you expect to pick up where we left off,” she said, a defensive edge to her voice. Olivia straightened her spine. “Well, I don’t want to do that. I’ve gone through our inventory and separated our acquisitions. I’m going to take my stock and start over somewhere else. I’ll be out by the end of the month.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Kevin said. “My credibility is pretty much shot in this town. I want to turn over my client list to you and I want to give you the shop. You can take over the mortgage.” He shook his head, a sardonic smile curling his mouth. “You were always better at this business, anyway. You can take my name off the sign. I’d just ask one thing.”

“What’s that?” she asked, her mind racing at this new development.

“That you let me sell through your shop. I’m going to be moving around a lot and I need a way to make a living. I’ll send you stock from around the country and you sell it, on consignment. You’ll get a cut of everything you sell.”

Olivia thought about the proposal for a long moment. It was a perfect plan. She could keep the Charles Street shop, a location that she’d never be able to replace. And she wouldn’t have to pack up all her stock and pay for the move. And Kevin really wasn’t asking for much, just a way to make a living. Didn’t she owe him at least that much?

“Why would you do this for me?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” he said. “I’m going to have my lawyer call you and make all the arrangements. And you can expect stock whenever I find something interesting.” He stepped toward her as if to kiss her on the cheek, but settled for a pat on her arm. Then Kevin turned and walked toward the door.

“What made you change your mind about testifying?” she called, just as he reached for the knob.

“A visit from a cop named Quinn.”

Olivia blinked in surprise. “Conor Quinn? He convinced you to testify?”

Kevin shrugged. “He came to see me about ten days or so before the trial was scheduled to start. He was concerned for your safety. I decided to cut a deal right after I talked to him.”

She frowned, her mind troubled by the admission. It didn’t fit. “Are you saying that Conor knew I didn’t have to testify a week and a half before the trial started?”

Kevin nodded. “He and his partner worked with me to put together the deal. It only took a day for my lawyer to convince the D.A. that I had something to trade for a suspended sentence.” He stared at her for a long moment. “He’s in love with you, you know.”

“What?” Olivia asked, her gasp echoing in the silent shop.

“That’s why he was so determined to keep you from testifying. He loves you. Believe me, I know the signs.” He paused, a look of regret washing over his face. “And if I don’t miss my guess, you’re in love with him.”

The moment he said the words, Olivia realized the truth in them. She’d known in her heart how she felt, but gauging the depth of Conor’s emotions was almost impossible. But perhaps she shouldn’t have waited to hear the words. Instead, she should have known from his actions. He’d kept her close, even after the threat to her life had been eliminated. She could only hope that he’d done that because he couldn’t bear to let her go.

“I-I have to talk to him,” Olivia said. “I have to see him.” She tossed aside the clipboard she’d been using for inventory, then grabbed her coat from a nearby Empire settee. “You have a key. Lock up before you leave.”

She had no idea where Conor lived, his phone number was unlisted, and she didn’t have the time to call every precinct house in Boston, if he hadn’t been thrown off the force. She only knew one place to go- Quinn’s, his family’s pub. She got the address from the phone book, then hurried out the front door. Her breath came in quick gasps as she ran down the sidewalk and she could feel herself trembling with anticipation.

She was taking a chance going to him. They’d only been apart ten days. But Olivia had to believe he cared, that, if confronted, he’d be forced to admit his true feelings. Perhaps she should play harder to get, wait for him to come to her. But she knew Conor well enough to know that probably wouldn’t happen. And now that she’d decided she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, she wanted their life together to start right away.

Her car was parked at home, so she grabbed the first cab that she saw and directed him to South Boston. They skirted around the edge of the Public Gardens and wound their way to the Broadway Bridge, her mind going over everything she planned to say. She still wasn’t sure how to begin. She could just blurt out that she was madly in love with him, then leave it to Conor to respond. Or she could list all the reasons why they belonged together. Or perhaps a better strategy would be to throw herself into his arms and kiss him and show him why he couldn’t live without her.

Once she crossed into Southie, Olivia peered out the windshield of the cab, squinting to read the street numbers above the taverns that she passed. Though she’d never been to Southie in all the years she’d lived in Boston, she didn’t think finding Quinn’s Pub would be difficult. It was located just off Broadway, the main thoroughfare. But then a person couldn’t spit in Southie without hitting an Irish pub.

The street was lined with cars, and as she stepped out of the cab and paid the cabbie, she could hear music drifting through the misty night air. The sound of an Irish band, a fiddle, a flute and a drum, drew her closer. Before she reached for the door, she smoothed her hands through her hair, then she drew a deep breath. No matter what happened, this moment would change her life forever.

She stepped inside and found herself in the middle of a party. The Irish band was playing on a small stage at the far end of the long, narrow bar and people stood shoulder to shoulder, talking and laughing. She glanced around, praying she’d find a familiar face, hoping that Conor would appear out of the crowd and sweep her off her feet.

“Olivia?”

She spun around to see Brendan standing at the end of the bar, waving in her direction. Relief washed over her. It was only then that she noticed Dylan sitting next to him and Sean and Brian, the twins, behind the bar. A moment later, Liam appeared out of the crowd.

She pushed through the crush of people to the spot where the Quinn brothers had congregated. Brendan gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and Dylan slipped off his stool to give her a place to sit.

“I’m looking for Conor,” she said nervously. “Is he here?”

Brendan laughed. “Nope. We’re all waiting for him. This party is in his honor.”

“A party for Conor? For what?”

“A work thing. He’s back on the job,” Dylan explained. He paused, then winced as if he realized he’d probably spoken out of turn. “He didn’t tell you about the Internal Affair investigation?”

Olivia nodded. “He did. But Conor and I haven’t seen each other for a while. Since the case is done, there’s no reason to…” She drew a shaky breath. “I just need to talk to him.” She stood up. “Can you tell me where he lives?”

“You stay here,” Dylan said. He pushed away from the bar. “We’ll find him for you. Brendan, you check his apartment. I’ll stop by the precinct and see if he’s still working. Sean and Brian, why don’t you check out his favorite cop bars? And Liam, you keep Olivia company. Get her something to eat and drink. This damn party was for him and it’s about time he showed up, whether he wants to or not.”

Olivia watched as they all strode to the front door, tall and dark and each one as handsome as Conor. She turned back to Liam and forced a smile, then folded her hands in front of her on the scarred wooden bar. “I guess I’ll have a soda while I wait.”

Liam sent her a devilish smile. “You’re sittin’ in Quinn’s Pub, lassie. You’ll have a Guinness or you’ll have nothing at all.”

CONOR STEPPED OUT of his car in front of Quinn’s Pub for the second time that night. The street was dark and quiet, almost eerily so in the heavy fog. The bar had closed fifteen minutes ago, but Conor knew a few of his brothers would still be inside, ready to draw him a Guinness.

He’d been all over the city in search of Olivia. He’d even had his buddy at dispatch put out an APB on her car only to find it parked down the block from her house on St. Botolph Street. He’d stopped at her flat twice, checked the shop three times and had even knocked on Mrs. Callahan’s door, wondering if she might know anything about Olivia’s whereabouts. The landlady had regarded him suspiciously, as if he were there to return Tommy to her care. Once she was certain he didn’t have the cat with him, she grudgingly told him that she hadn’t heard from Olivia since she’d paid her rent a week ago.

He slowly strolled across the wet street toward the pub. Now that Red Keenan was incarcerated and awaiting sentencing at the Suffolk County Jail, Kevin Ford was free to go on with his life. Conor had wasted more than a few hours wondering if he and Olivia were relaxing on some tropical beach somewhere.

He’d seen that look in Ford’s eyes when he’d talked about Olivia. He had a suspicion Ford wouldn’t stop at anything to make Olivia his, in the same way Conor wouldn’t. But then Ford had the advantage of proximity. Conor cursed softly. He should never have let her go. Though his job had been in jeopardy and he didn’t have anything to offer her, he still should have grabbed for the gold ring while he had the chance.

He yanked open the front door and stepped inside the dimly lit pub. The air was hazy with smoke and the jukebox played softly in the far corner. A few stragglers still sat at the bar and in the booths near the back. Conor slid onto a stool, then waved at Dylan who nursed a beer just a few stools away.

“You missed your party,” Dylan said.

“What party?” Conor asked with a wry smile.

Sean stepped up and placed a half pint of Guinness in front of Conor. “Where were you? We’ve all been out looking for you. Geez, Con, you’re a hard man to find when you don’t want to be found.”

“I had some business to take care of,” Conor said. He reached out for the Guinness and took a long drink.

Sean wiped the bar around him with a damp towel, then tossed the towel over his shoulder. “Well, you had business here, too.”

Conor shook his head wearily. “I wasn’t in the mood for a party,” he countered. In truth, all he wanted was to find Olivia. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to make that happen.

“He’s not talking about a party,” Dylan explained. “He’s talking about Olivia.”

Conor’s head snapped up at the mention of her name. “Olivia?”

Sean cocked his head toward the back of the bar. “Brendan’s keeping her company at the dartboard. She’s been waiting for most of the night.”

“For me?” Conor asked.

“No, idiot,” Sean muttered. “For his Holiness the Pope. If I were you, I’d get back there before Brendan has her completely charmed and she decides she came here for the wrong Quinn.”

Conor sat frozen to his seat. What would he say to her? What would she say to him? He’d made so many mistakes already, an apology was probably in order. But after that, the only thing he could think to tell her was that he loved her. “It all comes down to this,” he murmured. In just a few minutes, he’d know whether he’d found the woman he was meant to spend his life with or whether he’d made a mistake he’d regret for the rest of his life.

“Just tell her how you feel,” Dylan suggested, as if he could read Conor’s mind.

Conor had always been the one to provide sage advice to his younger brothers, but now he was on the receiving end of their advice and he wasn’t sure he should trust them. Besides, what about all those family legends about the Mighty Quinns? Was he willing to trust his heart to a woman, to risk that she might someday walk out on him?

“She loves you, Con,” Sean murmured. “She wouldn’t have come here if that wasn’t so. Don’t be a jackass and mess this up. Besides, it’s about time one of us tested that damn family curse. It might as well be you.”

Conor pushed off the bar stool, took another long drink of his Guinness, then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He started toward the back of the bar, and though he’d walked that same path hundreds of times before, this time it felt like he was walking a mile, every step filled with doubt and insecurity.

He walked past Liam and Brian, who were deep into a game of eight ball. Both Brendan and Olivia had their backs to him as they aimed darts at the board mounted on the rear wall. Olivia was laughing and Brendan was teasing her. When they both went to reclaim their darts and count the score, Conor held his breath. And then she turned and faced him and their eyes met.

Everything and everyone around them suddenly faded into the background. He didn’t hear what Brendan said and the music playing from the jukebox became just a jumble of sound. Instead, he heard her soft gasp, saw the light reflecting off her pale hair, smelled the scent of her perfume. It was all magnified a hundred times until his heart and soul was filled with her.

“Hi,” he murmured.

“Hi,” she replied.

Conor drew a shaky breath. “I’ve been looking for you. I went to your apartment and to the shop, but you weren’t there.”

“I was here,” she said, glancing around nervously.

He swallowed hard, the words he wanted to say catching in his throat. “You look beautiful.” It was all he could manage but it was the truth. He was stunned by the sight of her, shocked that his memories of her hadn’t even come close to the reality of the woman before him. Conor silently vowed that he’d never depend on memories again.

He took a step toward her. “I wanted to find you because there are some things I need to tell you.”

“There are some things I need to tell you,” she countered.

“Those last few days when we were together, I-”

“I know,” Olivia said. “They weren’t about the job, were they?”

“How did you know?” Conor asked.

“Kevin Ford told me that he cut a deal the day after you visited him, nine days before the trial began. You got around to telling me I was safe four days before the trial. So I had to wonder, what was going on for the rest of that time. Why didn’t you just take me home?”

Conor raked his hand through his hair, then tried to calm his nerves. “Olivia, I don’t know any better way to put it than to just come out and say the words. I love you. Hell, I’ve probably loved you since the very moment you kicked me in the shin and called me a Neanderthal. And I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to realize it, but I kept trying to convince myself that it was just part of the job. That my feelings of protectiveness were all mixed up with feelings I thought I had for you.” He drew a long breath. “But now I know that’s not true. I know how I feel and I don’t want to live another day of my life without you.”

Now that the words had started to come, Conor couldn’t seem to stop them. He grabbed Olivia’s hands and led her over to a booth, then slipped in opposite her. When they were both seated, he wrapped his fingers around hers and stared into her eyes.

“I suppose you’re wondering how I know I love you,” he continued.

“Not really,” Olivia murmured. “I just-”

“Well, let me explain,” he interrupted. “You see, when my mother left she just forgot all about us. We were her children and she just walked away. And I guess I always thought if it was so easy for our own mother to walk away, then it would be even easier for any other woman to do the same. Including you.”

“I would never-”

“And when we first met,” Conor said, “I tried to maintain my distance, but you needed me. And in the end, I think I needed you just as much.” He took a quick breath, then continued on, certain that if he stopped talking she’d find some gentle way of rejecting him. He had to lay out his whole case and prove the truth of his words. If he didn’t, she might just walk away. He drew her hands to his lips and kissed her fingertips. “You got inside of me, Olivia, and no woman has ever done that before. And I-”

“Can I just say something, please?” she asked in an impatient tone.

Conor froze, his lips just inches from her fingertips. This was it. She was going to brush aside everything he’d said and tell him that they could never have a future together. “All right.”

A smile broke across her face and her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “Would you please stop talking and just kiss me?”

Stunned, he stared at her for a long moment. In that time, he saw all the emotion, all the love that he had for her, reflected in Olivia’s eyes. With a low growl, Conor leaned over the table and did exactly as she requested. And as he kissed her, Conor knew that this woman would never bring him down. With every moment they spent together, he would become a better man. She loved him and with her love he felt as if he could rule the world.

He cupped her face in his hands and deepened the kiss until the need inside him grew to a soft ache. When they finally paused to draw breath, he gazed into her eyes. “Marry me,” he murmured. “Make me the happiest man in the world.”

“I will,” Olivia said.

Conor laughed, then sat back in the booth. He’d expected an excuse, a plea to wait before they took such a serious step. After all, they’d known each other less than a month. But as Olivia smiled, he knew she was as anxious to begin their future together as he was, and they already knew enough to want that future to begin now. “Really? You’ll marry me?”

She nodded. “I will marry you, Conor Quinn. And we’ll live together and love together and I promise to give you handsome Irish sons and pretty Irish daughters.” She reached out and softly touched his cheek. “And I promise that no matter what troubles come our way, I will never, ever leave you.”

With that, Conor stood and slipped out of the booth, then tugged her out behind him. He couldn’t resist pulling her into his arms and kissing her again, long and hard. When he was through, he glanced around to find his brothers all standing nearby. He laughed, then hugged Olivia to him. “I’m getting married.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dylan shouted. “And where did you find a woman crazy enough to marry you?”

“The same place he found a woman willing to be a sister-in-law to a bunch of rowdy Irish brothers,” Olivia said. “That is, if you’ll have me.”

The Quinn brothers gathered close, showering Olivia with their best wishes and a fair share of kisses as well. Conor stood back, watching the woman he’d come to love more than life itself, and the brothers who had been his life up until he’d met Olivia. And when all the congratulations were given, he grabbed his glass of Guinness from a nearby table and raised it above his head.

“To the Quinn family legend,” he said.

His brothers grabbed their own glasses and held them up. “To the Quinn family legend.”

Conor stared into Olivia’s eyes, unable to believe that he’d won such a prize. “May you all find a woman as wonderful as Olivia, and may you all be laid low by your love for her. For a Mighty Quinn is nothing without a woman by his side.”

They all took a drink of their Guinness and then Conor grabbed Olivia around the waist and kissed her again. Liam put a quarter in the jukebox and the strains of a lively Irish reel filled the bar. Conor swept Olivia into the dance, spinning her around and around until her face was flushed and she was breathless. And as they danced, he thought about all the dances they’d share in their future-the first dance together as man and wife, a dance on each of their anniversaries, a dance at the wedding of each of the children they would have.

He knew as long as he had Olivia at his side, in his arms, he would never regret a single moment of his life. A Mighty Quinn had found a mate and now that he’d found her, he’d wasn’t about to let her go.