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“My hot dates don’t start that early, they go until early.” But he didn’t have one, and hadn’t thought about it. Maybe after he’d showered off three or four inches of grime, he’d give it more thought.
“See you tomorrow then.” As Owen strolled off, Beckett looked back at the building. He and Ryder stood together like a couple of refugees from hell. “Flip you for who does the final check and locks up.”
Mostly because he remembered early-morning coffee in the kitchen with Clare, Ryder shrugged. “Go on home to the wife and kids. I’ll do it.”
“I’m already gone.”
Ryder went back in, grabbed his clipboard. He wanted to note a couple things down, after he could stand to be around himself again. He checked the door facing St. Paul, got his cooler.
Thought of lemonade.
No time for that, he told himself. And though he wouldn’t mind the pie, he wasn’t going into the inn in his current state. He’d have to rain check that, too.
He started out just as a truck pulled in.
Willy B’s, he noted, with his mother riding shotgun. He tried not to think of the fact that Avery’s father was sleeping with his mother. He’d rather just continue to think of Willy B as he always had: an old family friend—a hell of a nice guy who’d been Tommy Montgomery’s best pal since childhood.
If he thought of big, red-bearded Willy B as his mom’s lover, it just got sticky.
Justine hopped out. She wore those pants that stopped inches above the ankle and some sort of girly T-shirt with fancy work around the neck.
She’d fussed with herself some—the hair and face stuff—and looked damn pretty.
“Don’t get too close.” He held up a hand. “I’m not fit for close.”
“I’ve seen you worse, but this is a new shirt. So.” She blew him a kiss.
“Back atcha. How’s it going, Willy B?”
“Going good.” He stood six and a half feet. A big man with a big heart, and a full head of wild red hair that matched the beard he sported. He stood, thumbs tucked in pockets, eyeing the building. “Took the roof clean off.”
“There wasn’t anything clean about it. I guess you want to take a look inside.”
“Wouldn’t mind it. If you want to get on, I can lock it up for you.”
“It’s okay.” He led the way.
Willy B ducked in, swiveled his head side to side, up and down as he walked the space. “Justine, you got some imagination.”
“It’s going to be fabulous. My boys won’t settle for less.”
“She doesn’t give us a choice. We got material coming first thing in the morning so we can start on the new roof.”
He talked roofs and windows with Willy B, then let Justine drag Willy B around, pointing to the rough spaces that would be locker rooms, a little classroom, reception space.
“I expect you to join up.”
“Oh now, Justine.”
“Don’t ‘oh now’ me.” She wagged a finger, then patted Willy B’s arm. “I’m going to give you a discount since we’re going to be in-laws.”
He grinned at that. “That’s something, isn’t it? My girl and your boy. Wouldn’t Tommy do a dance over it?”
And that was it, Ryder thought. What made Willy B Willy B. He would think of his friend, always.
“He really would. And he’d’ve told me I was crazy for buying this place. Then he’d have strapped on his tools. Oh, I tell you we’re going to have such a pretty place here, nothing like it around. I’ve got big plans for the locker rooms.”
“Your mom mentioned the lockers and such,” Willy B said to Ryder. “I know a guy, they do good work there.”
“Owen’s been looking into it some. Maybe you can give him the name.”
“I’ll do that. We’re going over to Vesta in a bit. I’ll give it to Avery.”
“Owen’s there.”
“Perfect.” Justine nodded. “We want to go through the new restaurant space before we get some dinner.”
“Owen’s got the key. He’ll take you through.”
“Buy you a beer,” Willy B offered. “And pizza if you want.”
“Not like this.” Ryder spread his hands. “The Health Department might shut her down. But thanks.”
“When this place is finished, you can take a shower and a steam.” Justine smiled at him. “I hear you’re hitting on our innkeeper.”
“Oh now, Justine,” Willy B murmured as Ryder scowled.
“I am not.”
“Was it someone who just looked like you kissing her out in the lot yesterday?”
“That was just … nothing.”
“It looked like something to Mina Bowers, who was driving by, and who told Carolee, who told me.”
He’d known it would get around, but he hadn’t expected it to get around to his mother so quickly. “People should mind their own business.”
“Well, that never happens,” Justine said cheerfully. “And oddly enough I heard firsthand from Chrissy Abbot, who was walking her dog, the two of you had another ‘just nothing’ earlier. A little digging and I found out the man in the fancy suit who was here at the time was that Jonathan Wickham.”
“Yeah, he came by to try to steal her back for his hotel, and try to talk her into sleeping with him again.”
“I thought he got married,” Willy B began.
“Oh, Willy B, don’t be so naive. That bastard,” Justine said, with considerable heat. “Why do I hear about you kissing Hope and not knocking that bastard on his ass?”
Ryder’s smile covered his face, and came straight from the heart. “I love you, Mom. Seriously.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Because I didn’t know until he was out of range. She set him straight.”
“I’d expect no less. If that son of a bitch shows his face around here again, I want you to kick him right off our property. Or call me and I’ll do it myself. I’d like to do it. I should go in and talk to her.”
“She’s got people in there.”
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow then.” She took two long breaths to calm down. “If you want to hit on her and not have people talk about it, do it in private.”
“I’m not hitting on her.”
“If you’re not, I’m disappointed in you. Meanwhile, you go on and clean up, get some rest. I’ll talk to you later. And, Ry, it’s good work here. You can see it already.”
She could, he thought as they left. She always could see. Sometimes more than was comfortable.
“Hitting on her. Jesus. Disappointed if I’m not. You just can’t figure women, even mothers. Maybe especially mothers. Come on, Dumbass, let’s go take a shower.”
He knew the word, wiggled in anticipation, trotting out as Ryder followed.
After he locked up, he turned and saw Hope, with another pie plate, crossing to his truck.
Why the hell were they always meeting up in the damn parking lot?
“You just missed my mother and Willy B.”
“Oh. I wish they’d come in.”
“I thought you had people in there.”
“I do.” She gestured at the two cars in the lot beside hers and Carolee’s. “And I bet they’d have loved to meet her. Your pie.”
“Appreciate it.”
“Carolee’s serving wine and cheese to the guests, but I should get back in and help. I wanted to ask you something first.”
“Okay.”
“Are you considering the idea of having
sex with me?”
“What the hell am I supposed to say to that?”
“The truth would work. I’m very big on honesty in any sort of relationship, however casual. I’ve lived and learned on that one. So I’d like to know if you are while I’m considering it. Straightforward,” she continued, as he stood, scowling and speechless. “No strings, no complications. If you’re not, no problem. I’d just like to be on the same page.”
Talk about putting the cards on the table. “The same page. I don’t know what the hell page I’m on.”
He was tired, filthy, and she was hitting on him in the damn parking lot. Had he thought she needed more figuring out? Hell, there was no figuring her out.
“All right. When you do, just let me know.”
“Just let you know,” he repeated. “Yes or no.”
“It’s simpler, isn’t it? You look tired,” she observed. “You’ll feel better after you clean up and get something to eat. I have to go in. Good night.”
“Yeah.” He opened the door to let the dog jump in. After a debate, he decided to drive with the pie on his lap. D.A. wouldn’t be able to hold back from sticking his whole face in it otherwise.
He got behind the wheel, just sat there.
“No, you can’t figure women, Dumbass. You just can’t figure them.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
