Page 30 of The Havenport Collection

Liam

F amily dinner with the Quinn family was not a normal affair.

I had been stressing about this for the past week.

I had finally found a cool woman who I wanted to spend time with.

Someone who understood me and understood my business.

I didn’t want to share her. I wanted to spend every spare moment I had with her in my bed, or my shower, or on my sofa.

Anyway, the last place on earth I wanted to be was on a goddamn vintage sailboat with my parents and brothers.

Making matters worse, I had acted like a total dick a few days ago, shooting down Cece’s admittedly good idea and making her feel shitty. I don’t know why I did it. She was just trying to help, and honestly, doing her job.

Her idea was great, but impractical. In my wildest dreams I could never grow a distribution operation.

I would have to bring on a lot of help and lessen my ownership and control.

I couldn’t do that again. I couldn’t expose myself to that kind of risk.

She also had a point about Declan. He might be a grumpy bastard, but he was a shrewd businessman and knew the ins and outs of this type of business. Beer and fish were not that different.

I loved that she wanted to help. I loved her creativity and enthusiasm. But she didn’t know she was picking at an open wound. She poked at my insecurities, and I reacted badly. I didn’t want to argue. I wanted to gather her in my arms and kiss her until everything was better.

Fortunately, she wasn’t much of a grudge holder and allowed me to do just that.

I apologized and begged her forgiveness and she obliged.

It helped that I gave her two orgasms first, so she was in a forgiving mood.

But things felt weird, off-balance somehow.

I knew I liked her, and I wanted to see as much of her as possible, but there were other things going on too.

Instead of just enjoying this casual fling, I found myself anxious and unmoored.

An afternoon stuck in the middle of the ocean with my family was certainly not going to help matters.

My mother stood on the dock, wearing an enormous hat and shouting orders at everyone. I picked up a large cooler and carried it on board. “Mom, I really don’t think we should force Cecelia to come with us.”

“Put that in the stern between the seats. What? Why? We have known her since she was a child, Liam.”

“Mom. You know what I mean.”

She leveled me with one of her mom looks. “I certainly do not. You are dating. And she is a family friend. Why not take her sailing?”

“Mom, we’re not dating. We are casually seeing each other, and she works for me. We didn’t go out for a sail with Callum’s ex-wife until after they got engaged.”

“And look how that turned out!” My mom was still very salty about the divorce. She composed herself. “We will have a lovely day. You really need to relax.”

She patted my cheek and smiled at me. “You know, Liam, in my day, when a man wanted to impress a pretty girl, he shaved and put on a collared shirt.” She looked down at my jeans, T- shirt, and fleece. “It wouldn’t kill you to make an effort.” My mom loves to twist the knife.

I ignored my mother and hauled the rest of the gear on board and said a silent prayer that my family would not traumatize Cece.

I had texted both my brothers and told them they’d better be on their best behavior or I would cut off their free beer supply.

In our family, that was like threatening death or dismemberment, so I felt moderately confident they would at least try to behave.

My mother, on the other hand, was a different story.

Annie Quinn was a very tiny, but very terrifying woman.

She had to be, raising the three of us. It was because of her we grew up to be marginally productive members of society.

She took no shit and gave no fucks. She was bluntly honest and never hesitated to tell us when we were acting like idiots.

I loved these things about her, but she had a tendency to be very intense when it came to the girls we brought home.

Turns out I had nothing to worry about. Having grown up in Havenport, Cece was comfortable on the water and completely charmed my parents.

She showed up wearing proper footwear and layers and bearing a container of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her freckles shone in the sunlight.

She let the Captain give her a historic tour of the downtown from the water, droning on about significant moments in the Revolutionary War.

Most importantly, she gushed over the boat, a Sparkman & Stephens from the 1960s, which the Captain had painstakingly restored over the course of the last decade.

This boat was his passion project and the one thing that kept him out of my mom’s hair during retirement.

He lectured Cece about the type of varnish he used, and she was polite and engaged.

I felt bad for subjecting her to this, but she seemed to actually be having a nice time.

She chatted with both my brothers and asked insightful questions about their businesses, complimented my mother on raising such entrepreneurial and hardworking men, and raved about the food my mom brought.

She also talked up the brewery, bragging about my beer and management style, while proudly smiling at me.

She was relaxed and happy and looked like a beautiful sea goddess, with her wild hair blowing in the wind.

I, on the other hand, spent the entire time in the throes of a minor anxiety attack.

My mother kept shooting me meaningful glances, basically trying to telepathically say “Propose to this woman and give me grandbabies.” I did my best to ignore her, studying the water and contemplating if I could jump ship and swim to shore.

It helped that the weather was beautiful.

Cool and sunny with a strong breeze. We were able to get the sails out and really enjoy the day on the water before motoring back to the dock.

We were able to catch a spectacular sunset.

I took the opportunity to wrap my arms around her and hold her tight.

“Thank you,” I whispered into her ear. She turned and smiled at me and my heart soared.

It did not escape my notice that she fit in perfectly with my family.

I had never really cared about what my family thought about someone I was dating before.

I loved my family, and we were, by most standards, pretty close.

But seeing Cece with them, having fun on the boat, made me realize how much I wanted to be with someone who loved my family and enjoyed spending time with them.

Her mom was my mom’s best friend. Holidays would be a blast. We would never have to fight about where we were going or stress about the rude relatives.

Our kids could play with Callum’s kids—I sincerely doubted Declan would ever procreate—and go to the same school.

I could see a future with her, backyard barbecues, Sunday dinners on the boat, strolling arm in arm at the town festivals.

Pump the brakes. Why am I thinking about kids? I have never given any thought to kids before. I am clearly having some kind of breakdown.

Cece was unlocking all kinds of new thoughts and feelings within me.

She was forcing me to confront what I wanted and needed, and I was a better man for it.

For so long, I believed that I had to put my life on hold for the brewery.

But it was becoming more clear every day that I didn’t.

That I could be focused on my business and make room for someone special.

I needed to tell her everything, get all the truth out. Lay myself bare and make my intentions known. I wanted something real with her. And in order to earn that, I had to be honest with her and myself.

I was ready. Ready to get serious. Ready to take this to the next level. But was I ready to take a chance and tell her I wanted more? And was she even interested?