Chapter 8

After Gus and the girl left, Quinn went for a good long run. Hard strenuous exercise was his go to cure-all for everything. He came back, showered and prepared to beard the dragon in her cave.

According to Gus, Katherine Keenan was doing some sort of financial auditing with an accounting firm located in the forest of high rises in downtown Seattle.

After Quinn treated himself to a snack at Sweet Iron Waffles on 3rd street, he took a walk down to the Chocolate Market at Pike Place Market to pick up some Belgian chocolate for Gus’s partner Saria and her sisters. The sprites were serious chocoholics.

Then he walked to the high rise on 4th and Columbia. Even though he was dressed country-formal: Levis, Tecova boots, tan corduroy sport coat and a starched white shirt, Quinn was amused to think that he was as out of place in three-piece suit country as a pig in church.

“I’d like to see Katherine Keenan please,” Quinn said to the expensive looking blue-eyed blond receptionist whose name plate said she was Amber Morici.

“Who shall I say is calling? Or should I just say it’s a tall, dark and handsome man?” She asked with a big cheerful smile.

“Lachlan Quinn, I’m a friend of hers from back home.”

“I never would have guessed. You sure don’t look like the usual pretty-boy guys she dates, Mr. Quinn.”

“Just Lachlan, please. And I’m a long way from a pretty boy. I pound nails for a living.”

“Well Just Lachlan, I think you’re gorgeous. Anyone ever tell you that you have the deepest green eyes.”

“Not a single person,” Quinn gave her a grin.

“What the HELL are you doing here?”

And here we go.

“Hello to you, Peaches,” Quinn said. “Long time, no see.”

Katheryn Keenan was heading his way, high-heeled pumps click-clacking on the white marble floor. Dressed in a green suit with a skirt that came to her knees and a white silk blouse, she was magnificent. Quinn was struck with a bittersweet memory of dancing with her— the smell of apple blossoms in her hair dizzying his bumbling sixteen-year-old self. She looked like she belonged on a runway in New York. The sight of her took his breath away—literally. It’s true, he thought, first loves never really go away.

Too bad it turned out that the attraction was one-sided. He had written her a long letter a week the entire time he was in the Navy telling her about things that had happened. He hadn’t mailed a single one of them, kept them stuffed in his seabag until someone reminded him that if he bought it, they would send them all back home. So, he burned them. He didn’t stop writing, though. He burned the last week’s letter as soon as he finished the current week’s one.

Bobby Durant called it posting by campfire.

What set Katie Keenan apart from all the women in the world were her eyes. You could look into the windows of her sea-glass green eyes and see that somebody special lived there. Scary-smart, sassy and occasionally, if you were particularly clever, you could tease out a giggle fit from the little girl she kept hidden away—the one who had a huge mischievous grin and who looooved peaches.

Quinn smiled as he remembered her eight-year-old self at her aunt’s kitchen table with a big spoon in her hand singing “Peaches lots of peaches ... I love my peaches and creams...”

Now though, she was well on her way into a right Irish snit.

His glyphs prickled. Her powerful magic swirled and coiled around her like a deadly serpent.

Quinn knew this mood. She always went there when she was embarrassed or caught off guard. She was fragile like a bomb is fragile.

So he said, “shame how you’ve let yourself go, Peaches.”

Saying her old nickname was like poking a tiger with a stick.

Amber giggled. Katie shot her a death glare.

“Surely you have something to do Ms. Morici.

“I’m doing it, Ms. Keenan,” Amber said sweetly.

“Take it easy, Peaches,” Quinn said.

“Lan,” she snarled, “If you don’t stop calling me Peaches, I’m gonna snap your neck.”

Well, Gus had warned him. Apparently, you can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl.

Quinn wondered what was wrong with him that he fell for dangerous women. There wasn’t an ounce of difference between her and Niamh except for the color of their hair.

Another woman, an equally attractive brunette, came around the corner.

He was starting to wonder about the hiring practices of this place.

“Katherine,” she said, “they’re looking for you up on twelve—whoa, who’s the cowboy.”

“Julie,” said Amber, “meet Lachlan Quinn. He’s a friend of Peaches here. I’m kinda hoping he’s gonna be my friend too.”

“Well, howdy there, Mr. Quinn,” Julie drawled. “Glad to meet you. What brings you to this neck of the woods?”

“What do you want, Lan.” Katie said through clenched teeth. “We’re very busy here.”

Okaaaay.

“Well,” Quinn said, keeping his voice mild as milk, “Apparently, there are some issues going on back home. Gus suggested you might have some insight into things. Give me fifteen minutes of your time and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Okay.” She had no more give in her than a stone had, “Give me a half hour to get out of a meeting.”

“No problem, Katie,” said Amber. “I can keep him entertained. You go off to your meeting. Lachlan and I will be fine.”

Katie shot Amber another laser-like glare.

“I’ll meet you,” Katie said, her voice almost a shout, “at the Starbucks across the street in 30 minutes. Why don’t you head over right now and wait for me?”

“Okay, Peaches. But it’s way more professional if you remember to use your indoor voice at work.”

Quinn escaped before she did him damage. He hadn’t had this much fun in ages.

As always, Quinn picked a seat with his back to the wall and close to the exit in Starbucks. As he sipped on a venti double-shot Americano, he casually watched the serious men and women hurrying up and down the street. He wondered, not for the first time at the practicality of the women who were dressed to the nines, wearing colorful high top converse sneakers as they hurried along.

When Katie showed up. He smiled; she hadn’t changed a bit. When Katherine Keenan said 30 minutes, she was serious about it—she showed up exactly 30 minutes after he’d left her.

Katie was all about precision in action and thought.

When she walked up, he said. “Katie, do you wear sneakers when you come to work?”

She looked at him like he was a moron.

“Of course, I do.” She pointed to her shoes. “These are Louboutin’s. These babies cost six hundred bucks. You think I’m going to walk in the rain in them.”

“I remember, when you liked to run around in bare feet in the rain.”

“That was then, this is now.” She stalked up to the counter and came back with a cup of tea.

“What do you want, Lan? I can’t believe my sisters told you where I work and never told me you were coming,”

“First of all, your sisters didn’t send me here. Except for Charming, The Irritating, I haven’t talked to them in years.

She switched topics, “I heard all about you dating the skanky super model. Last year I think it was. What happened there?” She pronounced ‘skanky super model’ with a disdainful sniff.