cream?”
Mimi pushed her chair back. “I’ll help clear the dishes. I can certainly use the practice before the reception,” she said icily, her nostrils flaring with fury.
Quinn grinned at her and winked for effect. “That’s a good sport.”
CHAPTER FIVE
After dinner, Quinn, Bailey and her parents retreated to the formal living room while Kaitlyn and Mark took the children for a walk on the beach.
“Can I get anyone anything?” Bailey asked, wringing her hands together, clearly growing more uncomfortable as the evening wore on. “Coffee? An after dinner drink?”
“I’d like an Irish whiskey,” Doyle said. “How about you, Stanley? You like a toot once in awhile? Or do you just sip on sissy wines?”
It was a direct challenge, Quinn thought. “I’ll have a toot with you, old man.”
“I’ll get it,” Bailey offered.
Doyle lifted a hand to stop her. “No, allow me. You go sit down with your fiancé,” he said, stressing the word fiancé as if it were a dirty word.
While Quinn had been cleaning the kitchen mess, Kaitlyn had dragged Bailey off to have another private chat. When they were through, Bailey had dragged Quinn off to relay what Kaitlyn had told her. Apparently Mrs. Maguire decided Bailey must be pregnant, otherwise her daughter would never agree to marry someone as awful as him, or Stanley rather. She and Mr. Maguire had also decided not to voice their disapproval of their daughter’s fiancé for fear it would only encourage Bailey to defend him.
“Let Bailey wait on us,” Quinn said, giving her butt a pat. “She needs the exercise.”
Bailey shot him a look over her shoulder as she made her way to the bar. A look that said she was embarrassed by his outward display of affection. Hadn’t she been the one who’d said they should kiss and touch beforehand so they’d look comfortable with one another?
“Yep,” Quinn said, carrying on the charade. “That’s what happened to old Bambi. Too much sitting around. She got the middle-age spread when she was only seventeen. That’s one of the reasons I insisted she should work. The other was so that she didn’t become a leech. I hate when women think that men should support them.”
“ Seventeen? You married a seventeen-year-old ?” Bailey asked, looking furiously at him. If Quinn didn’t know better, he’d swear she was jealous.
“Well, not really. Bambi was sixteen when I married her. We got divorced when she was seventeen.”
“How old were you ?” she asked.
“Well, that was a year ago so I was . . . thirty-three,” he said wiggling his fingers and pretending to subtract.
“That’s disgusting.”
“Yeah, that’s what her mom said. In fact, it should have been Bambi’s mom and me tying the knot, but I took a liking to the kid.” Quinn looked at Doyle and winked. “You know what I mean?”
Mimi fell into a Queen Anne chair and fanned her crimson face with her hand. “I think I’ll have a whiskey too, dear.”
Doyle helped Bailey distribute the drinks and came to stand next to Quinn by the piano. Holding up his glass, he clinked the edge against Quinn’s glass and said, “Here’s to you and Bailey.” He lifted his glass and took a good belt, watching Quinn over the top of his glass, assessing him. “Do you golf?”
Golf? Quinn stared at the man. What the hell was wrong with this guy? Why didn’t Doyle Maguire just punch him in the nose and throw him out? How much of Quinn’s insolence was this guy going to take? Didn’t he have any respect for his daughter?
“No, I don’t golf,” he lied. Well, it wasn’t a total lie. He hadn’t golfed in over two years. Who had time?
“Hmmm. I thought Bailey said you golfed. My mistake. Why don’t you play something for us?” Doyle suggested, nodding at the white baby grand.
Uh, oh. Now he was in trouble. He hadn’t touched a piano
Mimi pushed her chair back. “I’ll help clear the dishes. I can certainly use the practice before the reception,” she said icily, her nostrils flaring with fury.
Quinn grinned at her and winked for effect. “That’s a good sport.”
CHAPTER FIVE
After dinner, Quinn, Bailey and her parents retreated to the formal living room while Kaitlyn and Mark took the children for a walk on the beach.
“Can I get anyone anything?” Bailey asked, wringing her hands together, clearly growing more uncomfortable as the evening wore on. “Coffee? An after dinner drink?”
“I’d like an Irish whiskey,” Doyle said. “How about you, Stanley? You like a toot once in awhile? Or do you just sip on sissy wines?”
It was a direct challenge, Quinn thought. “I’ll have a toot with you, old man.”
“I’ll get it,” Bailey offered.
Doyle lifted a hand to stop her. “No, allow me. You go sit down with your fiancé,” he said, stressing the word fiancé as if it were a dirty word.
While Quinn had been cleaning the kitchen mess, Kaitlyn had dragged Bailey off to have another private chat. When they were through, Bailey had dragged Quinn off to relay what Kaitlyn had told her. Apparently Mrs. Maguire decided Bailey must be pregnant, otherwise her daughter would never agree to marry someone as awful as him, or Stanley rather. She and Mr. Maguire had also decided not to voice their disapproval of their daughter’s fiancé for fear it would only encourage Bailey to defend him.
“Let Bailey wait on us,” Quinn said, giving her butt a pat. “She needs the exercise.”
Bailey shot him a look over her shoulder as she made her way to the bar. A look that said she was embarrassed by his outward display of affection. Hadn’t she been the one who’d said they should kiss and touch beforehand so they’d look comfortable with one another?
“Yep,” Quinn said, carrying on the charade. “That’s what happened to old Bambi. Too much sitting around. She got the middle-age spread when she was only seventeen. That’s one of the reasons I insisted she should work. The other was so that she didn’t become a leech. I hate when women think that men should support them.”
“ Seventeen? You married a seventeen-year-old ?” Bailey asked, looking furiously at him. If Quinn didn’t know better, he’d swear she was jealous.
“Well, not really. Bambi was sixteen when I married her. We got divorced when she was seventeen.”
“How old were you ?” she asked.
“Well, that was a year ago so I was . . . thirty-three,” he said wiggling his fingers and pretending to subtract.
“That’s disgusting.”
“Yeah, that’s what her mom said. In fact, it should have been Bambi’s mom and me tying the knot, but I took a liking to the kid.” Quinn looked at Doyle and winked. “You know what I mean?”
Mimi fell into a Queen Anne chair and fanned her crimson face with her hand. “I think I’ll have a whiskey too, dear.”
Doyle helped Bailey distribute the drinks and came to stand next to Quinn by the piano. Holding up his glass, he clinked the edge against Quinn’s glass and said, “Here’s to you and Bailey.” He lifted his glass and took a good belt, watching Quinn over the top of his glass, assessing him. “Do you golf?”
Golf? Quinn stared at the man. What the hell was wrong with this guy? Why didn’t Doyle Maguire just punch him in the nose and throw him out? How much of Quinn’s insolence was this guy going to take? Didn’t he have any respect for his daughter?
“No, I don’t golf,” he lied. Well, it wasn’t a total lie. He hadn’t golfed in over two years. Who had time?
“Hmmm. I thought Bailey said you golfed. My mistake. Why don’t you play something for us?” Doyle suggested, nodding at the white baby grand.
Uh, oh. Now he was in trouble. He hadn’t touched a piano
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