A Fare To Remember_ Just Whistle_Driven - Vicki Lewis Thompson [111]
“We were sitting right over there at that table by the window,” Marcus added.
Ian and Declan both looked at him, as if surprised by his entrance into the conversation. Marcus had always been known as the quiet Quinn, the only one in a family of seven children who didn’t engage in the boisterous family arguments that took place over Sunday supper at their parents’ house. If there was ever a disagreement, Marcus could be counted on to remain neutral. Declan was usually the one to start the argument, then sit back and watch as Ian did everything he could to win the argument.
Marcus just didn’t see the point in arguing unless the subject was important to him. And there was very little he found to arouse either his ire or his passion. He reached out for his own beer and took a long drink. “Do you ever wonder if we’re maybe in a wee bit of rut?”
“Jaysus, maybe we are,” Ian said, allowing his Irish accent to tinge his words. “We’ve done this same bloody thing so many times, we’ve begun to repeat ourselves, like those old men down at the docks who tell the same stories over and over again.”
“At least we still have our own teeth,” Marcus commented.
“We go out, we look for women, we drink a little too much and then we go home,” Ian added. “If we get lucky, we hook up with a pretty girl. If not, we wake up alone the next morning with a blazing headache.”
“Predictable,” Marcus murmured. As much as he wanted to deny it, it was true. He loved hanging with his brothers. But lately, he was beginning to feel restless, as if there were something better he ought to be doing with his time, some elusive goal he ought to pursue.
“Most of the guys our age are married,” Ian said. “Our older brothers, the Quinn cousins, nearly all my friends done it. I haven’t dated one woman that I’d consider marrying.”
“What happened to Caroline?” Declan asked, reaching for the bowl of pretzels. “I thought you two were in love.”
“She went back to her old boyfriend,” Ian said morosely. “Said I was a great guy, but he was ready to make a commitment.” Ian shuddered. “God, I hate that word.”
“Well, there’s your problem,” Marcus muttered.
“I’m not interested in getting married, either,” Dec offered. “And I make that very clear from the start. It’s all about the sex. Most women appreciate my honesty.”
“Yeah, right,” Ian said. “Most women think they can change your mind. It’s only after they realize they can’t, they move on.”
Dec groaned. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Why? Women spend most of their time talking about us,” Marcus said.
Ian nodded in agreement, popping a pretzel into his mouth. “If we spent more time trying to figure women out, we’d probably have better luck. I’ll wager I could have a five-minute conversation with any woman in this bar and she’d have me figured out, head to toe.”
“You’re just about as deep a mud puddle,” Dec said. “It doesn’t take a major intellect to figure you out.” He glanced over at Marcus. “Now our baby brother, he’s a different story. The girls like him because he has an air of mystery about him. He never speaks, so they don’t know where he stands. And he’s not all that interested in figuring them out, so they’re even more intrigued.”
“He’s quiet because he can’t think of anything intelligent to say,” Ian teased.
“I know what your problem is,” Marcus said after a long silence. “Instant gratification.”
“What?” Dec and Ian said in tandem.
“That’s all you look for. You find a girl, hook up and never call her again. The next weekend, you’re right back out there looking for someone new.”
“I’m not looking for a wife,” Dec insisted.
“Neither was Conor or Dylan or Brendan,” Marcus said. “Or Brian or Sean or Liam. They didn’t want to get married until they found a woman they wanted to marry. And then they got married.”
Dec took a moment to digest his brother’s words then shook his head. “Wonky reasoning, that is,” he said.
“I think finding a woman is a lot like fishing,” Ian declared, leaning back in his chair and linking his hands behind his head. “You just keep hauling ’em into the boat until you get a keeper.