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Just the two of them. She glanced down to where D.A. snoozed on the floor.
Well, the three of them.
She got two glasses from the cupboard, was about to pour her own when she heard feet on the stairs.
Naturally, she thought, and put the glass down again.
Chip Barrow’s sandy hair stood up in mad spikes. Along with his tattered jeans he wore the faded Foo Fighters T-shirt he’d worn for check-in. Only now he wore it inside out. She doubted he realized it.
He gave her a sleepy, sex-drugged smile she envied bitterly.
“Hey.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry to bother you.”
“You’re not. What can I do for you?”
“Me and Marlie were wondering about maybe some dinner. Like I could get takeout so we could just …”
“Couldn’t be easier.” Though there would be one in their room packet, Hope opened a drawer for Vesta’s menu. “They’re right across the street, and they’ll deliver if you like.”
“Really? Awesome. Pizza’s like just right. It’s good, right?”
“It’s very good. I’d be happy to call the order in for you when you decide.”
“I know what Marlie likes.” His face shone as he said it. “We could do a large, with pepperoni and black olives. And some of this dessert here. This Chocolate Decadence. Sounds awesome, too.”
“I can tell you it is.”
“Um. Can they maybe bring it up to the room? Just like knock on the door?”
“No problem. Would you like a complimentary bottle of wine?”
“Seriously? Yeah, that’s great.”
“Red or white?”
“Um, why don’t you pick? Ah, could we get a couple of Cokes, too?”
“Give me one minute.”
She got a tray, an ice bucket, screwed two Cokes into the bed of ice. Added the wine she’d opened for herself, the two glasses.
“This is so cool. Marlie’s blown away by the room. We even turned on the fireplace. It got pretty warm, so we opened the windows, but it’s, you know, romantic with the fire going.”
She bit down on the inside of her cheek. “I’m sure it is. I’ll—Oh, Ryder. This is Chip.”
“Hey,” Chip said.
“How’s it going?”
“Awesome.”
“Would you like me to take that up for you?” Hope offered.
“No, thanks. I got it. And you’ll order the pizza and stuff?”
“Right away. Give it about twenty minutes.”
“Cool. Marlie’s going to dig on the wine. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
As he carted the tray out, Hope pressed her lips together to hold back the laugh. “Awesome,” she murmured.
“What is he, twelve?”
“Twenty-one, both of them. She had her birthday just last week. They looked so young I carded them.” She got out another bottle of wine. “Why don’t you open that wine while I call this order in? If you’d rather beer, there’s some in the fridge.”
“Wine’s okay.” A little change of pace, he decided. Like the woman. He poured a glass for each of them, sampled his own. And decided he could develop a taste for change of pace.
After she’d placed the order, he nodded toward the stove. “What’s cooking?”
“Warming, since I can’t take credit for the cooking. Beef medallions, roasted fingerlings, butter-glazed carrots and peas. And there’s a little scallop appetizer.”
“Sounds good.”
She got out the appetizer. “Try it and see.”
He took a sample. “It’s good. Red Hots has the touch.”
“She does. She worked in a pizza joint when we were in college. I always knew when she’d made the pie. It was just that much better.”
“She dove right into Vesta, and she makes it work.”
“She’s the dive-in type.” Deciding she might as well go with the first part of her evening plans, she added a dish of olives, slid onto a stool. Appetizers and conversation here, dinner in The Dining Room. Phase Three would have to wait until tomorrow.
The dog bellied under the stools.
“Were you surprised when Avery and Owen got together?”
“Not especially. He’s had a thing for her since we were kids.”
“And Beckett had one for Clare since high school, and carried that spark all those years.”
“He always knew she was with Clint. He never messed with that. Suffered in secret,” Ryder added. “Unless you lived with him. He used to write really crappy love-ripped-my-still-beating-heart-out-of-my-chest songs and sing them in his room till Owen and I threatened to beat him with bricks.”
“Really?” She laughed, trying to picture it. “That’s so sweet. The songwriting, not the bricks. Were you friends with Clint?”
“Yeah, not close, really. We played football together, got drunk together a time or two. Mostly he was centered on Clare, like she was on him, and looking to join the service.”
“So young, both of them. Like Chip and Marlie.”
“Who?”
“Wesley and Buttercup—the almost newlyweds. I didn’t meet Clare until she moved back to Boonsboro and Avery introduced us. After Clint died.”
“Hard time for her. She looked—”
“Go on,” she said when he broke off. “Tell me.”
“Delicate, I guess. Like you could shatter her with a hard look. The two kids, basically babies, the runt still in the oven. But she wasn’t. Delicate, I mean; not down into it. Clare’s got more spine than anyone I know.”
She thought it might be his longest single discourse on any one person since she’d met him. More, the bone-deep affection and admiration came through.
She’d seen that affection and admiration for her friends, but hearing it touched her.
“I’m lucky to have her and Avery in my life. If I didn’t, I’d probably be in Chicago now instead of here. That’s where I thought my compass would point after Jonathan. Here’s better.”
“Can’t figure what you saw in him.”
Hope sipped her wine, studied Ryder. “Do you want to know?”
“We’re sitting here.”
“All right. I don’t want to compare myself to Clint—his service, his sacrifice, but like him, I had a life plan. It runs in my family. My sister wanted to be a vet since she was eight, and my brother always wanted the law. I loved hotels, the drama, the puzzles, the people, the constancy and the flux. All of it. So my life plan was to manage a hotel. The right hotel, in the right spot. That was the Wickham. Jonathan was part of the Wickham, and as classy—so I thought—and elegant as it is.”
“That’d be your type.”
“Classy and elegant has its pull,” she qualified. “And he was charming, believe me. He knew art and music and wine and fashion. I learned, and I wanted to. He pursued me, and that was flattering and exciting. His family opened the doors for me, and that was heady. My life plan expanded. I’d manage the Wickham, marry Jonathan. We’d be one of D.C.’s power c
ouples. I’d entertain, brilliantly, manage the hotel, again brilliantly, eventually have two children we’d both adore, and so on … I know exactly how shallow all that sounds.”
“I don’t know about that. It’s a plan.”
“I thought I loved him, so that’s a factor. But I didn’t.” Realizing that had been both comfort and pain. “He didn’t break my heart, and he should have. He broke my spirit, and that’s lowering. He shattered my pride, and that’s hard to come back from. But he didn’t break my heart, so in some ways I understand, now, I used him, too.”
“Bullshit.”
His instant and terse opinion surprised her. “Really?”
“Really. He pursued you, your term. His family went right along with it. You had reason to believe things were going according to that plan. And you thought you loved him. Maybe you were stupid, but you didn’t use him.”
She considered. “I think I like the idea of using him more than being stupid.”
“It’s finished anyway.”
“Yes, it is. So. You. You have two brothers who hold long-term affection from a young age. Any torches held?”
“Me?” The idea amused him a little. “No. I leave that to Owen and Beck.”
“No broken hearts or spirits?”
“Cameron Diaz. She doesn’t know I exist. It’s tough to take.”
He made her laugh again. “I have that same problem with Bradley Cooper. What’s wrong with them?”
“Got me. We’re as hot as they are.”
“Absolutely. Plus, you probably look more natural in a tool belt than Bradley. Tool belts are also hot,” she explained. “They’re like gun belts—Old West cowboy gun belts. When a man’s wearing one—naturally—a woman knows he can handle himself.”
