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Justine beamed at Hope. “I like it.”
“I’ll send an email out to everyone then, so we can work out the best time. If we go with early afternoons, we can use The Dining Room at the inn. And I should get back.”
“I don’t want to break up the party.”
“We’re caught up.” Hope got to her feet.
“Then I’ll walk over with you, before I go harass my boys. I’ll see the two of you later. What do you say to a nice soft, slatey blue to replace that green on the fitness center?” she asked Hope as they walked to the door.
“I say you’re my hero.”
Avery waited until the door closed. “There’s a thing going on.”
Content, Clare folded her hands on her belly. “Oh yes, there’s a definite thing going on.”
“How do we feel about that?”
“They’re not each other’s usual type. Not even close.”
“Absolutely not,” Avery agreed.
“Maybe that’s why I feel so good about it.”
“Me, too!” Avery popped up, grabbed a Coke and a ginger ale out of the cooler. “Part of it could be we’re in love with two of the brothers. There’s one of us, and one of them left.”
“It’s the kind of symmetry Hope would appreciate. If she wasn’t so annoyed and resistant. But it’s not the big part of why. We love them, so we want them to be happy. To have someone in their lives who makes them happy.”
“Ryder dates a lot, but …”
“He’s never involved,” Clare finished. “And Hope’s not dating at all. Hasn’t dated since—”
“Jonathan,” Avery said with loathing.
“He hurt her more than she’ll admit, even to herself. And over and above that, she’s pushed herself into this mind-set that she doesn’t want or need to date or have a relationship.”
“You had the same mind-set,” Avery pointed out.
“That was different, and I did date a little.”
“Very little.”
“Very little. But I had three children to think of, and a business to run. Plus, and most important, there wasn’t anyone until Beckett.” Clare sipped slowly. “And there’s another thing, and it sounds a little crazy.”
“I’m okay with crazy.”
“Lizzy. She, in a way, gave Beckett and me, and you and Owen, that little push—that springboard, so to speak. And look at us.”
Avery turned her hand, palm up to Clare. “Married, pregnant with twins.”
Clare mirrored the gesture. “Wedding planning. Do you think she, somehow, knows something, or sees something, senses something we don’t? About feelings or potential feelings?”
“Maybe. And that’s no crazier than having her in residence at the inn while she waits for somebody named Billy.”
“I guess it’s not. I wish we could find out who he was, what he was to her.”
“I’m banking on Hope and Owen. It may take a while, but they’ll dig it out.” Avery smiled at Clare over her soda. “So, how much about all this do we tell Owen and Beckett?”
“Oh, everything.”
“Good. They’ll rag on him, which will piss Ryder off. There’s a better chance of further situations if he’s a little pissed off. And, you know, after that asshole Jonathan, Hope could use somebody a little more real.”
“Ryder’s real.” Clare broke out with a grin. “She called him snotty.”
“I know.” Delighted, Avery tipped back and howled with laughter. “And he comes back with snooty. Snotty and snooty. It’s probably wrong, but I love it.”
“If it’s wrong, I’m right there with you.” She lifted her can, tapped Avery’s. “Here’s to the promise of an interesting summer.”
SHE MANAGED TO avoid him for the better part of a week. She saw him—not that she was looking—but it was hard to miss Ryder Montgomery swaggering from one job site to another in a town the size of Boonsboro.
Into MacT’s, down to the bakery, around to Fit. She’d catch sight of him chatting with Dick the barber outside of Sherry’s, or stopping for a word with one of the Crawfords.
Here, there, everywhere, she thought with some resentment. And to avoid running into him she’d all but put herself under house arrest.
It was ridiculous.
Not that she hadn’t been busy. The inn proved popular for its first summer. She’d tended to two out-of-town authors Clare hosted for a book signing. Then there’d been the sweet couple who’d come into the area for their fiftieth high school reunion—and the young couple who’d gotten engaged in Titania and Oberon, and already talked of spending their wedding night in the same room.
So far she’d had charming guests, strange guests, demanding guests, and delightful guests. Probably everything in between, she mused as she hauled out the hose to water the flowers and shrubs.
At the moment she had six rooms booked—two sisters, their mother, and the three daughters they had between them. They’d had a fun—and rowdy—time the night before. She expected they’d sleep in before they headed out for their facials and massages.
She’d definitely plan a Girls’ Night of her own. Clare and Avery, Justine and Carolee, Clare’s mom, Carolee’s daughter. She’d have her own mother and sister come down from Philadelphia.
Some fun food, some wine, plenty of wedding and baby talk.
Just what she needed.
She soaked the mulch, pleased the Knock-Out Roses bloomed and the arching wisteria showed so prettily green. Its flowers had sweetened the air in May—and she imagined them blooming for Avery’s wedding the next spring.
She hummed to herself, soothed by the homey task, ignoring the banging and sawing from the building across the lot. In her mind she flipped through her list of morning chores, into the afternoon, the evening, and ended her day’s plans with a little research on Billy.
Perfect.
The sound behind her made her jump, spin around.
“Hey!” was all Ryder managed before reflex had her jerking the spray of water up from his crotch. She hit him square in the face.
“Oh God.” She shot the spray to the side, fumbled it off.
Slowly, very slowly, he pulled off his sunglasses. He stood, hair and clothes dripping, eyes steaming.
D.A. obligingly lapped at the pool of water on the pavers.
“What the fuck?”
“Shh!” Instinctively, she glanced up at the porch. “I have guests. A lot of female guests.”
“So you’re hosing down any male who comes on the property?”
“I didn’t mean … I’m sorry. So sorry. You startled me, and I just …”
“You think it’s funny?” he demanded as a choked laugh snuck out of her throat.
“No. Yes. Yes, it’s funny, but that doesn’t mean I’m not sorry. Really sorry,” she added, whipping the hose behind her back as he stepped forward. “You shouldn’t sneak up on a woman with a loaded hose.”
“I wasn’t sneaking anywhere. I was walking.
” He shoved the dripping hair out of his face. “Let me see that hose.”
“Absolutely not. It was an accident. What you’d do with it would be deliberate. If you wait here I’ll get you a towel.”
“I don’t want a towel. I want some damn coffee, which was why I was walking—like a normal person—from the job site there, to the kitchen there.”
“I’ll get you coffee, and a towel.” Wary, she gave him a wide berth—turned off the hose at the source—then dashed inside.
She giggled, snickered, chuckled her way to the laundry room, grabbed a towel from the shelf, hurried back to the kitchen to pour coffee into a go-cup. Added the two sugars she knew he used, fit on the top.
She put a chocolate chip muffin in a napkin to sweeten the deal, and dug out a dog biscuit from her supply.
She dashed back through The Lobby, but paused to look out, make certain he wasn’t armed. She had a brother, knew how it worked.
Composed, with her features in contrite lines, she stepped out.
And tried not to notice the man looked damn good wet.
“Sorry.”
“Yeah, you said.” Still watching her, he took the towel, scrubbed it roughly over his dark, wet, unruly hair.
Because she wanted, badly, to laugh again, she pumped a little more contrite into her voice. “I brought you a muffin.”
He eyed it, the towel slung over his shoulder. “What kind of muffin?”
“Chocolate chip.”
“Okay.” He took it, and the coffee while she gave the dog his treat. “Is there a reason you’re watering that stuff, and me, at seven thirty in the morning?”
“It hasn’t rained in a few days, and I have guests so I need to start breakfast soon. They’re family, and they were up late, so they’ll sleep in a bit. I had some time, so—” She broke off, wondering why she felt compelled to explain everything. “Is there a reason you’re coming here for coffee at seven thirty in the morning?”
“I forgot Owen wasn’t coming in till later. He gets the coffee. I figured Carolee was dealing with the kitchen stuff. I need her key so I can get into her place and check her kitchen sink. It’s not draining right.”
She couldn’t claim he wasn’t a good nephew—or son, or brother. “She’ll be here by eight. You can wait if you want. I could … throw your clothes in the dryer.”
“Your female guests wouldn’t have a problem with a naked man hanging around?”
With this group? she thought. Probably not. “They might consider it a nice perk, but no one’s in M&P. You could wait in there.”
