“Maybe,” she said. “But it’s my paint. So I’m going to make sure the painting is done right.” She turned to the Realtor. “Hi, Laura. I’m glad you could make it.”
“Of course I’m here. This is part of my job.”
Maddie slid onto a bar stool and planted her elbows on the bar. It made her T-shirt tighten across her chest, and he caught an impression of lace beneath the white cotton. He forced his gaze to her face. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Thank you.” When she pushed her hair away from her face, her hand trembled. “Although I’ve had too much already today.”
“You sure you want some?” He paused with the coffeepot poised over a mug. “I have a strict rule against overserving my customers.”
Her low, throaty laugh made his hand tremble. “Go ahead and hit me. I can hold my coffee. I won’t get revved up and disorderly.”
“That’s a shame.” He set the mug in front of her. “Might be fun to watch.”
She took a drink, her hair falling forward so he couldn’t see her expression. “Trust me. It’s not.”
There was an awkward silence in the pub, then Laura pushed a piece of paper toward Maddie. “I’ve begun making a list of some of the things you might want to have fixed before we put the property up for sale. Small cosmetic changes can make a big difference when you’re trying to sell. Especially in this market.”
“How small?” Maddie asked.
Laura nodded at the torn bar stool. “You might want to get that fixed, for instance. It’s one of the first things someone’s going to see when they walk in. Some of the cushions in the booths are a little lumpy. The floor is scratched. That kind of thing.”
“It’s a bar. Of course the floor is scratched. Of course one or two booths are beaten up,” Maddie said.
“I’m just saying.” Laura glanced at Quinn out of the corner of her eye as if to say I’m trying. “You’d be surprised how much difference a few spruce-ups can make.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” Maddie’s hand tightened on her mug. “I’ll see what the inspector has to say.”
AN HOUR LATER, Maddie stared at the young man, appalled. “How can there be asbestos in the basement? Quinn remodeled the place just a couple of years ago.”
“He probably didn’t replace the insulation down there,” the inspector said briskly.
Maddie glanced at Quinn, who shook his head.
“But there’s a hole in the drywall that let me check it,” the man continued, “and I’m pretty sure that particular brand was made with asbestos. I’ll look into it when I get back to the office.”
“Why is there a hole in the drywall, anyway?” She looked at Quinn again, suspiciously.
He shrugged. “One of the beer vendors dropped a keg and it broke through the drywall. Those kegs are heavy suckers. I haven’t had a chance to fix it.”
He held her gaze as if he were as innocent as a newborn. Exposing asbestos insulation would be a great way to delay the sale of the pub, she thought.
“How soon will you know if it’s asbestos?” she asked the inspector.
“It’ll take a few days. Maybe as long as a week. I have to send it to a lab.”
“And if it is?” she asked.
“You could just replace the drywall and leave it alone. Undisturbed, it’s not a problem. But you’d have to disclose it before you sold the place.”
“What if the new owners didn’t want the building? What if they had another use for the land?”
“Then you’ve got a problem. The asbestos would have to be removed if they tore the building down. And with all the EPA regulations? It’s quite a project.”
“Thanks, Steve,” Maddie said. She took the invoice and opened her checkbook, her hand tightening on her pen. The $375 would make her bank balance dangerously low.
After handing him the check, she watched the door close behind him. A long moment later, Quinn said, “I guess I should have fixed the wall downstairs. I’ll get on that right away.”
“It doesn’t make any difference now.” Maddie swiveled in her seat to face him. “Why didn’t you fix it when it happened?”
“I figured it was a job for the new owner,” he said coolly. “If I’d known how to contact you, I would have asked how you wanted me to proceed.”
“You must have known it would be a problem when you scheduled this inspection,” she began, then drew a deep breath when she heard her voice rising. “Yes, please fix it,” she finally said. “Send me a bill.”
“Will do,” he said, leaning against the bar. “But I don’t come cheap.”
“Then I’ll do it myself.”
One corner of Quinn’s mouth curled up. “I’ll pay to see that.”
She straightened on the bar stool. “Is that some kind of sexist crack about a woman’s ability to fix things?”
“Not at all,” he said, smiling now. “I’m just guessing that a city girl wouldn’t have a lot of experience hanging drywall. But go ahead and prove me wrong.”
She’d hung drywall, and she could repair a hole in a wall. For a moment she was tempted to tell him she’d fix it, just to wipe that smirk off his face. But sanity returned before she could, once again, leap in without looking. “I have other things I need to concentrate on.”
“Quinn will charge you a fair price.” Laura fixed her gaze on him. “Right, Quinn?”
“Absolutely. Might take a while, though.”
Maddie slid off the stool, thinking about Hollis, back in Chicago, waiting for her money. The asbestos was a disaster, and Maddie was in no mood to spar with Quinn. “Let me know how much I owe you.”
SWEAT TRICKLED DOWN Maddie’s face as she struggled up a hill on County U. Ignoring her straining thighs, ignoring the heat of the sun on her back, she sucked in a deep breath and pushed to keep going. Tiny pieces of asphalt crunched beneath her running shoes and her ponytail slapped the side of her face as she ran, but she made it to the top without slowing.
Hills were good, she told herself. After the disastrous inspection that morning, she needed to run. Needed to sweat and feel her muscles work. Something to block the debacle from her mind. She needed a challenge.
That was why she ran, wasn’t it? For the challenge. The workout.
Yeah, she loved hills.
Using the T-shirt tied around her waist, she wiped the sweat off her face. A black pickup approached, and she moved to the gravel on the shoulder of the road. But instead of passing her, the truck slowed as it got closer.
“What are you doing all the way out here?” Quinn Murphy asked.
“I’m having a tea party,” she said as she veered to run around his truck. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Having a little trouble with the hills, are you?”
“I’m having a little trouble with trucks blocking my way.” She kicked up her speed as she left Quinn and his vehicle behind. The engine revved as the pickup began to move, and she felt a pang of regret. Wrong place, wrong time and definitely the wrong guy.
Instead of fading into the distance, however, the truck rumbled closer. Quinn had turned around and was creeping toward her. As he pulled even, he said, “It’s hot for June. Want a bottle of water?” His gaze traveled over her sports bra and running shorts. “Unless you’ve got one hidden somewhere?”
She untied her T-shirt and yanked it on. She’d taken it off because very few cars drove along this back road and it was so hot, but with Quinn watching her, she was too conscious of her skimpy attire.
“Hey, don’t cover up for me,” he protested. “I don’t mind if you go shirtless. I run like that all the time.”
“I’ll just bet you do,” she muttered, tugging on the hem of the T-shirt.
“Spoilsport.” He grinned, holding a bottle of water out the window, and she slowed to a walk, then stopped.
“Thanks.” She unscrewed the cap and gulped greedily. She hadn’t realized she was so thirsty.
“You ran a long way if
you started in Otter Tail.”
She lifted her shirt to wipe the sweat off her face, and his gaze shot to her bare abdomen. She hastily dropped the hem. “I do my best thinking when I run,” she said. “And there’s a lot to think about today.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
Asbestos. Drywall. And a bank account that was dangerously thin. “World peace,” she said. “It’s so tough to come up with a good plan.”
“You’ve got a smart mouth.” He propped his arm on the open window as if he had all day to talk to her. “I like that in a woman.”
“And I should care about your taste in women, why?”
He smiled. “Definitely a smart-ass. I have a proposition for you.”
Atiny burst of heat flared in her belly. “Not interested.”
“You don’t even know what it is.” His eyes grew heavy-lidded as he stared at her mouth. “You thought I meant…? That could be arranged, too. But I was talking business.”
“What kind of business?” Annoyed with herself, she kicked at a piece of gravel on the road.
“You could work at the pub. To pay for the repairs to the drywall.”
And spend that much time around Quinn? Not a chance. “I don’t think so. I have too much to do.”
“Like what?”
“None of your business.” She didn’t have anything she needed to do, really, except come up with the money to pay her bills. And this was certainly one way. But the idea of spending that much time with Quinn was unsettling.
The twinkle in his eye told her he knew it. “It could work for both of us. My last waitress quit. Said she didn’t like the career path she was on. You don’t intimidate easily. I like that in a waitress.”
“Sorry, Quinn. I’m not going to be here long enough to make it worth my while. Or yours.”
“How about a bet? If I win, you work for me. If you win, I’ll fix the drywall for free.”
“What kind of bet?” she asked warily. A smart woman would decline his offer and finish her run. But Maddie had never been particularly smart when it came to men. And it seemed she hadn’t gotten over the crush she’d had on Quinn when she was sixteen. Or her feet would be moving.
He got out of the truck, and she couldn’t help noticing how his T-shirt did nothing to hide the muscles of his chest. “You have anything you’d like to wager on?” he asked.
As he watched her, her breasts tightened beneath her sports bra, and she crossed her arms over her chest. She sure couldn’t say it was due to the temperature.
“This was your idea,” she told him, irritated that her voice sounded breathless. “What did you have in mind?”
He took a step closer. “I bet I can beat you up the hill.”
She glanced at the work boots he wore. “In those?”
“If you’re so sure you can beat me, let’s go.”
“Fine.” She turned abruptly and ran down the hill, the sound of his heavy boots hitting the pavement behind her.
When they reached the bottom, she lined up next to him and said, “Ready, set, go!”
Her thighs burned as she raced back up the slope. Quinn was keeping pace with her, even in the jeans and heavy boots. Frowning, she pushed harder, and pulled a little ahead of him. As they neared the crest, he moved even with her.
Suddenly, he pulled off his T-shirt. His muscles rippled as he pumped his arms. Dark hair covered his chest and arrowed south beneath his waistband.
As she drank in the sight, she stumbled on a rock, and he shot past her to win.
“You cheated!” she yelled.
He smiled. “I did not. I told you I ran with my shirt off.”
“That was so dirty,” she said.
“Hey, it’s not my fault if you can’t keep your mind in the game.”
“My mind had nothing to do with it. I stepped on a rock.”
“Don’t be ashamed that you like the way I look without a shirt.” He tugged at the neckband of her T-shirt, and for an insane moment she wanted to move closer. “I like the way you look without a shirt, too.”
She batted his hand away. “You think the sight of your naked body distracted me? In your dreams, Murphy.”
“You should head home, Maddie.” He nodded at her chest, where her erect nipples were obvious. “Apparently you’re getting chilled, and I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.”
She crossed her arms over her chest again, and he grinned. “See you tonight at five.”
CHAPTER FIVE
QUINN KNEW THE MOMENT Maddie walked into the pub that evening, even though his back was turned.
It was the murmur of voices, he told himself. The stirring of interest from the people already seated at the bar. That was all. He wasn’t soft-headed enough to think he could feel her presence in the room. He didn’t believe in that romantic crap.
When he turned, she had stopped in the doorway, uncertain. As if she wasn’t sure she belonged.
The thought brought him up short. Of course she belonged. He shifted a rack of glasses and they clinked together. It was her pub, wasn’t it? “Hey, Maddie,” he said. “Glad you could make it.”
“I said I would,” she answered as she moved toward him. “I don’t weasel out of my bets.”
“Even though I kind of cheated?”
She smiled, and his heart hammered in his chest. “There’s no ‘kind of about it. You did cheat. But there isn’t much to do in town at night, is there? So here I am.”
“There’s plenty to do in Otter Tail at night.” A picture filled his head—of his bed, with rumpled sheets and Maddie’s hair spread across his pillow like flames. Not going there. “But most of it goes on at the Harp. So you’re in the right place.”
“Good to know,” she said too brightly. Her pupils darkened as she stared at him, as if she could read his mind. Then she ran her hands down her thighs. “Anyway, I’m ready to go.”
Damn it. He forced himself to think of her as the new waitress. Nothing else.
“I honor my bets, too,” he said. “I fixed the hole in the basement wall.”
“Thank you.” Her relief seemed out of proportion to the small task.
He nodded at her jeans and green T-shirt. “That’s not regulation for the Harp. My waitresses usually wear something Irish. Plaid skirts, for instance.”
“The T-shirt is as Irish as I get. So the customers can take it or leave it. If you expect me to wear some skanky outfit that flashes a lot of skin, I’m out of here.”
His mind conjured up the way she’d looked earlier, wearing running shorts and a sports bra. “Hell, no,” he said in a low voice. “If you show any skin, I’ll make sure we’re someplace private.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Wanna make another bet?”
“Forget it. I learned my lesson about you and bets.”
“Too bad. That one might be fun.”
“Stupid is more like it. That ‘boss and employee’ thing is always a bad idea.”
Her words were as effective as a bucket of ice water. “You’re right. Thanks for the reminder.”
Her eyes widened. “I was thinking of you as the boss and me as the employee.”
“But we both know that’s not the case, don’t we?”
“You’re running the place. I just happen to own it.”
For about the hundredth time, he wondered what had been on David’s mind. Why had he broken his promise? Had it been his illness? Had he simply forgotten? Or had their friendship meant that little to him?
It wouldn’t do any good to get angry. It wouldn’t change anything. “My offer is still on the table. If you accept it, I’ll both own it and run it.”
“This isn’t the place to negotiate.” She glanced at the two men sitting at the bar, both watching avidly.
“You’re right.” He nodded at his friends. “These guys can be your practice customers. Paul Black and Patrick O’Connor.”
Patrick was an older man with thick white hair, wearing a sp
orts coat. She vaguely remembered seeing him that first night in the pub.
“Nice to meet you. Great T-shirt,” she added to Paul. “But you don’t say which bastards you want voted out of office.”
“It’s a blanket statement. Applies to whoever’s in power.”
Maddie laughed, and Quinn saw her relax. “Interesting philosophy.”
Patrick leaned around Paul to nod at her. “Paul is our radical. He has some pretty wacky ideas.”
“I’d like to hear them sometime.”
“Don’t say that,” Quinn warned, before Paul could answer. “He’ll talk your ear off.”
“I’ll watch myself, then. A waitress needs her ears. What can I get you guys?”
After Patrick ordered a whiskey and water on the rocks, he said, “You must be the gal who took on J.D. the other night. I heard a gorgeous redhead set him straight.”
“Only in an Irish pub could you get away with that kind of blarney,” Maddie said with a smile. “And I did not ‘take on’ J.D. We talked. That’s all.”
Paul snorted. “There’s no such thing as a conversation with J. D. Stroger after he’s had a few beers.”
“Maybe not a conversation.” Maddie grinned. “Let’s just say words were exchanged.”
Patrick smiled. “I like a beautiful woman with an attitude.”
She was smooth, Quinn admitted. And she seemed comfortable enough talking to Paul and Patrick. “Come down to the end of the bar,” he told Maddie. “I’ll show you what to do with the drink orders after we get busy.”
Before he could move, he heard a loud bang from the kitchen, then Andre began yelling. “Damn it.” Quinn closed his eyes for a moment. What was the cook up to now? “Paul, will you show her the order board?”
“Glad to,” his friend said.
This wasn’t starting out well. Quinn wanted Maddie to enjoy the Harp. To feel comfortable here. It was his chance to make her see what she’d be destroying if she sold the Harp to someone who’d tear it down. And Andre was gearing up to have one of his nights.
MADDIE WATCHED QUINN push through a swinging door. “What’s going on?” she asked Paul.
“Andre, the cook, is having another crisis,” he said.
An Unlikely Setup Page 4