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“Forward them to me,” Owen told her. “I’ll start combing through.”
“I will, and I’ll carve out time to do the same. It feels like progress.” Unconsciously, she laid a hand on Ryder’s shoulder as she spoke. “I have to believe we’ll find something.”
“Why don’t you sit down a minute?” Before she could respond, Ryder just pulled her down on his lap. When she tried to push away, he grinned at his brothers and tightened his hold. “Screws with her dignity.”
“My dignity remains unbowed. You’re sweaty.”
“It’s hot. Eat some fries.”
“I just had a yogurt, so—”
“Then you definitely need some fries.”
She knew full well he’d keep her pinned in his lap until she did. She plucked one out of his container. “There. Now—”
“Wash it down.” He picked up his glass, put it in her hand.
“Fine, fine.” She drank, put the glass down again.
“Ry was saying you could use more help,” Owen began.
Her back went stiff as a two-by-four. “Have there been complaints?”
“No, but—”
“Have I complained? No,” she answered for herself. “I know what I can handle and what I can’t. Keep that in mind,” she told Ryder, poking her elbow into his gut and pushing to her feet. “I need to get back to work.”
“You’ve got a big fucking mouth, Owen.”
“You just said she—”
“A big fucking mouth. There’s the steel.” He took his sandwich with him as he walked away.
“Definitely hooked,” Beckett observed.
“He’s the one who said she was overworked.”
“Yeah, ’cause he’s the one who’s hooked.”
HE SENT HER flowers. Ryder’s working theory had always been if a woman was pissed off, no matter the cause or the blame, a guy sent flowers. Mostly that smoothed things out again. Then he forgot it in the sweat and effort of work until he was locking up for the night and she walked over.
“The flowers are beautiful. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’ve only got a minute, which doesn’t mean I’m overworked. It means I’m working.”
Damn Owen, he thought. “Okay.”
“I don’t want you telling your family I can’t handle this job.”
“I didn’t.”
“If I need more help, I’ll talk to Justine. I can speak for myself.”
“Got it.”
A man could always hope that would cap that, but as he expected she—like most women—gnawed on it.
“Ryder, I appreciate your concern. It’s nice, and it’s unexpected. Sometimes there’s a lot of stress and pressure involved. I’m sure it’s the same with your work.”
“Can’t argue there.”
“You could probably use a vacation, a long weekend or something.”
He laughed at having his own words tossed at him. “Yeah, probably. The thing is, I’ve got the next two days off.”
“How much time will you spend in the shop, or working out next week’s plan of attack, or talking to your mother about this job?”
She had him there. “Some.”
D.A. waddled over, nudged his nose at her hand. “He thinks I’m mad at you. I’m not.”
“Good to know.”
She stepped up, kissed his cheek. “Maybe you could come by after the fireworks tomorrow.”
“I can do that.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Hey,” he called when she walked away. “You want to go to the movies? Not tonight,” he added at the puzzled look on her face. “Next week, your night off.”
“Ah … I can make that work. Sure. I’d like that.”
“Set it up. Let me know.”
“All right.” She smiled, but the puzzled look stayed in her eyes. “Do you buy a ticket for your dog?”
“I would, but they won’t let him in.”
“Do you have a DVD player?”
“Sure.”
“A microwave?”
“How else would I cook?”
“Then why don’t I come over to your place? We can watch a movie there—all three of us.”
It was his turn to be puzzled. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
“Wednesday night?”
“Fine. You want dinner?”
“Not if you’re cooking it in the microwave.”
“I can toss something on the grill.”
“Then yes. I’ll come by about six, give you a hand. I have to get back. Laurie’s on her own.”
“See you later.”
Ryder stuffed his hands in his pockets, watched her walk away. “Every time I think I get her,” he said to D.A., “I don’t.”
THE NEXT NIGHT, as the sun lowered, Ryder gave the second half of his second steamer to Murphy.
“You’re a bottomless pit.”
“They’re good. And they ran out of ice cream.”
“Ought to be illegal.”
“We can put them in jail.” With a smile and steamer-sticky hands, Murphy climbed into Ryder’s lap. “Mom says we can go by the Creamery if they’re still open when we get there. You wanna come?”
A hot July night. Ice cream. “Maybe.”
“Mom says Hope couldn’t come ’cause she has to work.” Devouring the sandwich, Murphy licked steamer juice off the heels of his hands. “Is Hope your girlfriend?”
“No.” Was she? Jesus.
“How come? She’s really pretty, and she mostly always has cookies.”
Considering, Ryder thought the combination was as much a no-brainer as ice cream on a hot night in July.
“Those are excellent points.”
“My girlfriend’s pretty. Her name’s India.”
God, the kid just killed him. “What kind of a name is India?”
“It’s India’s name. She has blue eyes, and she likes Captain America.” He pulled Ryder’s head down, whispered. “I kissed her, on the mouth. It was good. You kissed Hope on the mouth, so she’s your girlfriend.”
“I’m going to kiss you on the mouth in a minute if it’ll shut it up.”
Murphy’s gut laugh rolled out, dragged a smile out of Ryder.
“They’re gonna start soon, right? Right?”
“As soon as it’s dark.”
“It takes forever to get dark, except when you don’t want it to.”
“You’re wise, young Jedi.”
“I’m going to play with my light saber.” He wriggled down, grabbed up the toy light-up sword Beckett had bought him, swished it through the air.
His brothers immediately launched an attack.
“That used to be you,” Justine told him.
“Which one?”
“All three of them. Why don’t you go on up to the inn? You can see the fireworks from there.”
Ryder stretched out in his sling chair. “Montgomery family tradition.”
“I’m giving you dispensation.”
He laid a hand over hers. “It’s okay. She’s busy.”
