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“Never too busy. Sit down,” Clare told her. “You look frazzled, and you never do.”
“I’m not. Exactly. Just …” With a shake of her head, Hope sat. “I’ve been having trouble with a couple of the lights,” she began, and ran them through the story.
“It’s like what she did with Owen and me. It’s kind of sweet, in a weird way.”
“It’s not sweet. It’s infuriating. And he actually opened the window, considered climbing out.”
“Of course he did.”
Hope goggled at Clare. “Of course?”
“Not of course that was the answer, but of course he considered it. It’s a guy thing.” Amused, but supportive, Clare patted Hope’s arm. “I have three sons, I know guy things.”
“She really does,” Avery confirmed.
“It’s just stupid, especially since we both had our phones. I wanted to call Owen or Beckett, or the fire department.”
“Which is sensible, and a girl thing—and a last resort, probably when starvation threatened, for a guy.”
“Well, it’s just stupid,” Hope repeated. “Anyway, I’d just had it, and I gave him a piece of my mind.”
“Now it’s getting good.” Avery rubbed her hands together.
“He’s rude and surly, never uses my actual name. He treats me like I’m a pain in his ass, and I’m not.”
“Of course you’re not,” Clare soothed.
“I do my job and keep out of his way. And what do I get? A curled lip and insults, when he bothers to acknowledge I exist.”
“Maybe he’s got a thing for you,” Avery suggested. “So he gives you grief or ignores you.”
“Oh.” Hope sat back, nodded. “That could be it. If we were eight. I said he was snotty, which he is—to me. And he said I was snooty. I am not snooty.”
“You’re anything but. But …”
Hope narrowed her eyes at Clare. “But?”
“I think some people, wrongly, assume really beautiful women are. Snooty.”
“That’s snotty and snobby. But thanks. Oh! And he snarked on my shoes.”
“Dangerous territory,” Avery murmured.
“It sounds like you needed to clear the air,” Clare began.
“Well, we didn’t clear it, unless you equate that with both of us knowing just where we stand.”
“How did you get out?” Avery wondered.
“That’s the rest.” Hope pointed a finger. “I thought of just what you said before. How she pulled this on you and Owen. So I said he should kiss me, and he got snotty about that. I mean, honestly, what’s the big deal? He did it before and managed to survive, so—”
“Wait a minute, wait.” Avery twirled her fingers in the air. “Rewind. Ryder kissed you?”
“It was nothing.”
“We’ll be the judge of that. When did this happen?”
“It was just a … nothing. New Year’s Eve. We happened to run into each other in Owen’s kitchen right at the countdown. It was awkward, and I guess we both felt it would be more awkward if we didn’t. So we did. It was nothing.”
“You keep saying it was nothing.” Clare considered. “Which makes it sound like something. Especially since you didn’t tell us before.”
“Because it was no—” Hope caught herself. “It didn’t matter. I forgot about it. My point is, it was just a device, like New Year’s Eve. We’re dealing with a romantically inclined ghost, which sounds enormously silly, but it is what it is. So we did, and the door opened. Then the bell rang, I had guests arriving. I went down, he went out.”
“I must repeat. Rewind. You kissed Ryder, again.”
“I might have murdered him if we hadn’t gotten out of that room. Kissing seemed less bloody.”
“So how was it?”
Hope pushed up, circled around. “He’s got skills. And I’m in a dry spell. I’m in a desert. I’m fine with the desert, but it’s a desert nonetheless.”
“You felt something for him,” Clare prompted.
“I felt something,” Hope qualified. “He’s good at it, and the desert is dry. Now I’ve kissed him, twice. We can barely have a civil conversation—scratch that—we can’t have one, and I’ve kissed him twice. So now it’s a situation. Isn’t it?”
“I’m going to let Clare take this one,” Avery decided, “except for saying the only situation I see is two healthy, unencumbered adults who are both more attractive than they have a right to be engaging in a little enjoyable physical contact.”
“But we don’t even like each other. And he’s one of my employers.”
“You’d like each other fine if you’d give each other a chance. And he’s not your boss. Justine’s your boss. And I still say you’re edgy around each other because you’re attracted to each other.”
Clare poked Avery in the arm. “I thought you were going to let me take this one.”
“Oh yeah. Take it away.”
“Thank you.” Clare looked over at Hope. “Ditto. More or less.”
Hope sat again. “I agree Justine’s my boss, but don’t you think Ryder considers himself my boss, too?”
“No, and I think he’d be annoyed if you did.”
Avery furrowed her brow, gruffed up her voice. “I’ve got enough to deal with, for Christ’s sake, without being the boss of you. You’re my mother’s problem.”
Hope laughed, felt the tension at the back of her neck dissolve. “That sounds just like him, in content anyway. So what am I worried about? It wasn’t a way into a situation. It was a way out of a situation.”
“Let’s focus on that a minute.” Avery wiggled down in her chair. “During the way out of the situation, were tongues involved?”
“Avery.” Laughing, Clare shook her head, then reconsidered. “Actually … were there?”
With a cat-in-the-cream smile, Hope tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’ve both known me long enough to know if I’m going to do something, I do it right.”
“I admire that about you,” Avery said. “Where were his hands?”
“On the door, he kept them off me. I was against the door, so—”
“Mmmmm. Don’t you love against the door?” Avery asked Clare.
“A personal favorite. Too bad about the hands, though. I bet he’s got good ones. I think it runs in the family.”
Hope let out a sigh. “Despite your mutual obsession with tongues and hands, I feel better. Thanks.”
“Anytime.” Grinning, Avery gave Hope’s hand a squeeze. “And I do mean anytime. Ry’s going to be working on two sides of you for the next however. The odds of further situations are excellent.”
The tension settled into the back of her neck again. “I’m not looking for further situations.”
“That doesn’t mean you won’t walk into one.”
“Or open the door and let one in,” Clare added.
“The two of you think that way because your current life punch is spiked with weddings and babies. Mine is a crystal-clear bowl of career.”
“We’ve got careers,” Avery pointed out.
“And excellent ones. We should all get back to them.”
Even as she started to rise, the door opened. Justine Montgomery walked in.
Her appealing wild mass of dark brown hair tumbled out of a messy tail. She pulled off sunglasses with vivid green frames and grinned. “Hello, girls.”
Nothing to feel guilty about, Hope reminded herself. Nothing at all.
“Powwow?”
“We were just catching up,” Clare began.
Justine walked over, laid a hand on Clare’s shoulder. “How are we doing?”
In answer, Clare rubbed a hand over her belly. “We’re doing good.”
“I was going to run down to see you, and see if I can steal the boys from the sitter later today. I’ve got a yen for a picnic.”
“They’d love it.”
“Then it’s a date. And you.” She pointed at Avery. “I’m hoping we can do another walk-through of the new space, and snag a l
ittle time for wedding talk.”
“I’m all over it. I ordered the lights from the site you sent me. They’re perfect. I can go over as soon as Dave gets here.”
“Works for me. Actually, Hope, I came by to see you. I found some furniture for the upper porch I think will work.” Justine opened her huge bag, as vivid a green as her frames, fished out a cut sheet. “What do you think?”
“Perfect. Casual, looks comfortable, and the tones and textures are right.”
“I thought so. Go ahead and order. And I want to hook up with you at some point about how we’re going to handle the guest passes for the gym, and what we could include in a package for guests. It’s a ways off, but—”
“It’s never too soon to plan,” Hope finished.
“Exactly. Staff’s going to be key, and I’ll need to find a good manager. I’ve got some feelers out.”
“Speaking of managers, I was thinking we might start having a managers’ meeting, maybe every four to six weeks. Just to coordinate events, ideas, marketing plans.”
