It all seemed so simple before Maddie Johnson landed back in
Otter Tail. Sell her godfather's pub, pay off her debt,
return to Chicago and start over. Quinn Murphy, however, is
not part of that plan. Maddie hasn't seen Quinn since a
certain humiliating night fifteen years ago. Now her former
crush is running the bar she's inherited, and he's going to
fight her for it. And he's not above fighting dirty,
apparently. Too bad she can't afford to sell the bar to
the lowest bidder—namely, Quinn—and be done with it. Because
despite the pain he caused her, the man's irresistibly
attractive to her. Always has been. Always, always,
will be.
Excerpt Fate sure had a way of biting you in the butt. Of all the places she could have gone to lick her wounds and
regroup, why did it have to be Otter Tail, Wisconsin? The
town was the symbol of everything she'd once hated about
her life. As a young teen, she'd been sent to spend the
summers here with her godfather, David. In spite of her love
for him, she'd felt isolated and alone. Too shy to make
friends with the local teens, she'd felt like a failure.
A freak. An outsider. When she was sixteen, she'd vowed
never to return. Yet here she was, fifteen years later, the weight of failure
again heavy on her shoulders, steeling herself to drive into
this depressing excuse for a town. Fate was no doubt laughing her ass off right now. Maddie Johnson put on her sunglasses, tightened her grip on
the steering wheel and accelerated her small SUV around the
final curve. Moments later, at the bridge, she screeched to
a halt. When she'd last seen the town, it had been a tired
place, its fortunes sagging as much as the porches on its
old Victorians. Now those Victorians on Main Street were all
repaired and freshly painted in rainbow colors. Bright blue, green and yellow banners fluttered from the
lightposts in the downtown area, touting Door County's
newest vacation paradise. Large white boats, fishing rods
sticking up like bristles on a brush, bobbed in the Otter River. Even the old pier had been refurbished. The rusting sheet
metal that used to line the concrete walls guiding the river
into Lake Michigan had been replaced with a mural of leaping
fish and happy fishermen. The paint glowed in the setting sun. There was no other traffic, so Maddie paused, staring at the
sight. What had happened in Otter Tail? She put the car back in gear and crept across the bridge,
looking for the first of the two pieces of property she now
owned. At least the old bar wouldn't have changed. David
hadn't had the time or the energy to renovate The Office. But when she reached the building at the edge of town, she
barely recognized it. It wasn't called The Office
anymore. And it was far from run-down and shabby. The hand-painted sign that hung over the door said The Harp
And Halo, an Irish Pub. It looked like… a pub in Ireland. The windows were leaded
glass. The peeling, faded wooden siding had been replaced
with dark, sturdy boards. The door was wood and glass, and
the building looked warm and welcoming. And busy. The parking lot was almost full, and there were
more cars parked on the street. She could see a crowd
through the front window. What had happened to The Office? And why hadn't David
told her about it? Maddie parked in the last space in the lot and walked in.
The bar was a long sweep of dark green marble and polished
oak. Guinness posters and pictures of green fields and misty
mountains hung on the oak-paneled walls. It was hard to see
the decor through the people filling the tables and standing
two deep at the bar. And there were just as many women here
as men—that wouldn't have happened at the old Office.
That dark, dreary place had been strictly male territory. The bartender straightened and Maddie figured out one reason
there were so many women in the pub. He was tall,
broad-shouldered and solid, and his wavy black hair was just
a little too long. His black polo shirt, stretched across a
taut, muscular chest, showed off his ropy biceps. When he
glanced her way, she saw his eyes were bright blue. Maddie froze. She knew those eyes. "What can I get you?" he asked, his voice low and
intimate despite the crowded room. Caught. Now she'd have to spend a few of her closely
hoarded dollars for the privilege of checking out the
business she owned. And the man who worked behind the bar. "Guinness,"
she answered, annoyed to find her voice breathless. His gaze narrowed and he studied her for a moment too long.
Then he nodded. "Coming right up." A few minutes later he set a perfectly built glass of the
dark stout in front of her, a shamrock drawn in the foam.
"You want to run a tab?" Who would have thought Quinn Murphy capable of such whimsy
as shamrocks in Guinness? "I won't be here that
long," she said, uneasy being the focus of his
attention. Quinn wouldn't remember her, she assured herself. Would he? "Five bucks," he said. She counted out six singles and slid them across the bar as
she eyed him covertly. Mad Dog Murphy. That's who
eighteen-year-old Quinn had been. With no mother at home and
a father who drank, he'd run wild, revving his
motorcycle as he roared down Main Street, raising havoc in
the sleepy fishing town. Shy, pudgy Maddie, known as Linnie back then, had secretly
yearned to ride on the back of that motorcycle of his.
He'd been a couple of years older and, other than that
one disastrous night, he'd never noticed the awkward kid
she'd been. But even at sixteen, the sound of his
motorcycle rumbling down the street had made her quiver in
all the right places. Every other girl in Otter Tail had noticed Quinn, too. And he'd noticed them right back. Maddie leaned against the wall as Quinn worked the bar. He
was in constant motion, pouring drinks and chatting with his
customers, never lingering too long with any one of them.
When he turned toward her end, nerves twisted in her
stomach. Would he remember her? One woman leaned farther over the bar than necessary when
she gave Quinn her order, allowing a prime view of her
cleavage. He ignored it. Lots of things had apparently changed in Otter Tail. Maybe he was married. Or involved. The thought of a domesticated Quinn made Maddie take a quick
drink of her beer. What kind of woman could tame him? Stupid thought. She wasn't here to do any taming. Of
Quinn or anyone else. Quinn reached for a rag and wiped down the marble surface.
An older man with bushy gray hair, wearing suspenders over
his less-than-flat belly, pushed a glass toward him,
signaling for a refill. When he took the glass, the man
said, "A condo developer contacted me today, Quinn. He
was looking for property here." "Is that so?" Quinn yanked the beer tapper forward. "He's not interested in the land the Harp is
on," the older man assured him. "It's not close
enough to the water." "Good thing, isn't it, Gordon?" Quinn answered.
"Because as far as I know, it's not for sale." "You haven't heard from the new owner?" Gordon
set his elbows on the bar and watched him carefully. "Not yet." Maddie's hand tightened on her glass. If she was smart,
she'd set her beer down and walk out the door. But she
wanted to hear the rest of the conversation. "Maybe she's already sold the place." Gordon
glanced around, as if assessing the pub's value.
"This is a prime piece of property. Could be real
commercial." Quinn froze, then shoved the tap back in place as he set the
beer on the counter. "Last time I checked, this place
was commercial, Mayor Crawford." "You know what I mean," the other man said
impatiently. "Piece of property this size, we could get
a big national retailer in here. Really put Otter Tail on
the map. If the new owner is smart, she'll sell the
place. She'd make a bucket of money." "And so would you," Quinn said. "It's
killing you that you can't get in touch with her,
isn't it? I bet you're dying to sign her up with
your real estate office." "I just want to do what's best for the town,"
Gordon protested. Another man, thin and wiry, with dark blond hair brushing
his collar, turned and scowled at Gordon. "Give me a
break, you old windbag. You want to make a bucket of money
on a commission." On her property. Maddie took another drink as
Gordon shrugged, apparently not offended. "I'm
trying to take care of my town, Paul," he said. "If
I can earn a living at the same time, so much the better." Quinn slid a beer to another customer. "Give it up,
Gordon. No one wants to hear your campaign speech. We know
all we need to." "And we know all we need to know about you," Gordon
retorted, all the joviality gone from his expression.
"Temple didn't think enough of you to keep his word
about selling you this place." Quinn's knuckles whitened as he busied himself refilling
the bowls of pretzels on the bar. "Careful, Gordon,"
he said quietly. "People might realize you're not
Mr. Nice Guy. And then where would you be?" Without waiting for an answer, he moved away, talking to
customers and refilling drinks. The conversation with the
mayor was clearly over. Maddie leaned against the bar, suddenly dizzy. David had
promised to sell the pub to Quinn? She'd be negotiating
with him? The knot in her stomach tightened. It didn't matter who she negotiated with. She had to
sell this place, and fast. Her friend Hollis couldn't
afford to lose the money she'd given Maddie, and the
contractors were waiting to be paid. If she didn't give
them all some money soon, there would be liens on the houses
she was trying to sell. Making them that much harder to market. As Quinn poured drinks, Gordon stared at him for a moment,
then moved away. The man they'd called Paul watched him
go as he sipped his beer. Quinn said something to one of the customers, then turned
away, smiling. Maddie needed to talk to him. But this
wasn't the time or place, she realized with a
coward's relief. She'd wait until they could speak
privately. Before she could set her pint down and leave, a rough voice
said into her ear, "Hey there, beautiful. Can I buy you
a drink?" Maddie jumped, sloshing some of her Guinness onto the floor,
and turned to find a tall, beefy man standing too close. He
had a blond buzz cut and his thick neck topped a body that
had once been athletic but was now running to fat. She
stepped back. She remembered J. D. Stroger, too. "No, thanks," she said. "I'm fine." "Then how about a dance?" He leaned closer and his
beery breath washed over her. "Not interested." She moved away. "I can make you interested," he said as he followed
her, slurring his words. "Pretty girl like you
shouldn't be alone on a Thursday night. It's Thirsty
Thursday, you know." He swayed a little as he loomed
over her. Great. Not only did she have to deal with J.D., but he was
drunk. She glanced over her shoulder. "I like being
alone. I don't want a beer, I don't want to dance
with you, and I don't want to get to know you." J.D.'s smile twisted into an ugly sneer. "Now
that's downright unfriendly, city girl. Why don't I
show you how things are done in the country?" "Go away." Maddie tried to evade him, but he clamped
a hand on her shoulder. "I'm not done talking to you," he said. The
people standing close froze to look at them. "Too bad. I'm done talking to you." Maddie
shoved his hand off her shoulder. "Don't touch me
again." The crowd went silent. A man called, "Back off, J.D.
Don't give her the wrong idea about Otter Tail." J.D.'s face got red and he grabbed her wrist.
"You're gonna dance with me." Maddie twisted her arm and jerked it upward, breaking his
hold on her. She dodged out of his reach as he stumbled
backward. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Murphy
hurrying toward them. Two men behind J.D. tried to grab his
arms, but he shook them off as he lunged at her with a roar
of anger. She sidestepped him easily. "Now that's just plain
pitiful," she said as he lurched into the wall. "Go
home and sleep it off, J.D. No one likes a man who can't
hold his liquor." As she set the glass on the bar, Murphy grabbed J.D. from
behind. The bartender glanced over his shoulder and said,
"Rusty? Willis? Get him out of here." Without waiting to see what happened, Maddie left. She'd
almost made it to her car when she heard footsteps behind
her. "Hold on," Quinn Murphy said. She turned around slowly, trying to gather her composure.
"Yes?" "Are you all right?" he asked. "I'm fine." Some of the tension drained out of
her shoulders. "But thanks for stepping in." "Sorry I had to." He watched as two men half carried
J.D. from the bar. "You want to press charges?" "For what?" "He grabbed you. More than once." J.D.'s friends
helped him stagger toward a pickup. "Want me to call the
sheriff?" One side of Quinn's mouth turned up and
Maddie's pulse jumped. "It wouldn't be the first
time J.D. spent the night as a guest of the county." "No, thanks." The two men stuffed J.D. into the
passenger seat of the truck, and he sprawled on the bench
seat, his eyes closed, listing toward the window. "He
didn't hurt me." "Your call," Quinn said, frowning. "You look
familiar. Have we met before?" She wasn't about to remind him. "I'm from
Chicago," she said. "I doubt it." He crossed his arms over his chest without taking his eyes
off her face. "You just passing through, or are you
staying in Otter Tail?" "I'm staying here. For a while, anyway." "On vacation?" "A combination of business and vacation." She
hesitated. This wasn't the time to do business. He had
people waiting for him inside. "I'm a… writer."
She would be, if she could find another newspaper job.
"I'm working on a story." It was called "How
to Dig Yourself Out of a Huge Hole." "Yeah?" He gave her another of those mouthwatering
grins. "What do you write? I'm a big reader." Quinn Murphy a reader? That was unexpected—and intriguing.
"Nonfiction," she said. "I'm trying to get
published." It seemed like forever since she'd been laid off from
her job as an investigative reporter for the Chicago
Herald and started buying houses to rehab. In reality,
it had been less than a year. Who knew you could get into so
much trouble with real estate in such a short time? "Can I buy you another beer to make up for J.D.,
Ms.…?" He stuck his hand out and waited expectantly. "Maddie," she said. "Quinn Murphy." He engulfed her hand in his much
larger one. Maddie was not a small woman, but she felt
dwarfed by Quinn. He was a head taller than her and solidly
built. "Welcome to Otter Tail." He held on to her a
heartbeat longer than necessary. "Thank you, Mr. Murphy," she said, tugging slightly. "Call me Quinn." He smiled as he slid his fingers
away from hers. Too slowly. Her skin tingled, and she swallowed. This wasn't the way
she'd wanted to spend her first evening in town.
Our Past Week of Fresh Picks
|