The Perfect Hope Part 48

"We must look ridiculous," she murmured.

"Don't look."

"I won't if you won't. Are you hungry?"

"That's a loaded question, considering."

She smiled as she worked her bra back into place. "Why don't we go down and eat, pretend we're civilized adults."

"Too late for the second part."

"It's never too late to be civilized."

"You're starting to think about the kids in W&B."

"Avery made us a beautiful meal, and we should eat it. And it gives me the opportunity to be available in case. Then we can bring the wine-should there be any left-back up here. You can appreciate my new underwear."

"It's a good plan." He levered up enough to pull up his shorts, his jeans. "And maybe next time I'll manage to get my boots off before you jump me."

She wiggled back into her dress, smiled. "No promises."

CHAPTER TWELVE

RYDER COULDN'T QUITE DEFINE THE SITUATION WITH Hope. They weren't exactly dating. They weren't exactly friends. They weren't exactly what his aunt Carolee called An Item.

But however he angled to consider the situation, he liked it.

Maybe it included a few elements of strange, the way he parked his truck behind Vesta or over by the fitness center job site rather than right behind the inn.

It wasn't as if someone couldn't figure out what was going on if they paid attention. Someone always paid attention. Still, it didn't sit right with him to be blatant about it.

And maybe it added more strange the way he went up The Courtyard stairs to the third floor, and into the building that way.

Some evenings he heard voices from below, and just let himself and D.A. into her place until she knocked off for the night.

And maybe he found himself taking more of an interest in the workings of the inn than he'd expected to, but he was in it more than he'd imagined, so that followed.

And those workings struck him as pretty well oiled. No surprise, since in a lot of ways she was Owen in a skirt.

She emailed herself, doing room checks with her phone, using the phone to email herself notes she turned into lists on her office desktop. Fresh batteries for the remote in N&N, more TP in W&B, fresh room packets or menus or lightbulbs wherever. Saved steps, he imagined, as she'd be up and down countless times a day-stocking the coffee supply in The Library, hauling up wine, sodas, water from the bas.e.m.e.nt storage.

She lived and died by lists, to his way of thinking. And, again like his brother, by the sticky note.

He'd invariably find a few whenever he'd go into her place while she handled guests. Beer in the fridge-stuck on the fridge door as if he couldn't open it and see for himself. Leftover pasta on warm if you're hungry-stuck on the oven, as if ditto.

But he had to admit it was nice to have her bother.

He supposed he'd figured she'd be rigid-live and die by the schedule as much as her lists and sticky notes. But she flexed, and plenty, when things called for it, giving here, adjusting there, shoring up or letting go.

He could admit he'd expected her to start laying down rules or making demands about their ... situation. Instead she rolled with it-and rolled plenty with him, he thought as he set the next replacement window in the fitness center.

Even as he thought of her she came out, helping the laundry service haul away a load of linens and towels.

She looked so d.a.m.n fresh and pretty. He'd seen her mussed now-and done the mussing up himself-but she still managed to grab a man by the throat and the b.a.l.l.s.

She turned as someone came out of The Lobby doors. She had a houseful, he knew, for the July Fourth weekend. He couldn't hear her, but he could see her laugh and engage fully with the three women who came out.

"Problem with the window?"

"Huh?" He glanced around as Beckett came up behind him.

"Oh yeah, nice view. Clare said she's got sixteen people in there, through the weekend."

"It's a holiday," Ryder said and went back to installing the window.

"Yeah, the boys can't wait to hit the park tomorrow. We're going early so they can eat and run off some steam before the fireworks. And we can claim enough territory for everybody. It's too bad Hope can't make it."

"She'll be able to see the fireworks from the top porch of the inn." But it was a p.i.s.ser, he admitted. He couldn't think of the last time he'd hung out on the Fourth without a date. Not that he couldn't ask somebody else-technically.

"Don't you have something to do?" Ryder asked him.

"I've been doing it. You're on the last windows. Roofers are on the s.h.i.+ngles; looking good, too. Owen texted from MacT's. The steel's on its way here. Looks like we're getting those beams up today."

"Place'll be full of subs next week." Finished, Ryder stepped back from the window. "You sit on Mom until she picks out the style and finish of the rails for this place."

"Why do I have to sit on her?"

"Because I thought of it first." He checked the time. Close enough to lunch to take the break, but he didn't want to leave the site if the steel was en route.

"And you can go get us some lunch."

"I can?"

"I've got too much going on to leave, and I want to go over a couple things on the plans with you."

Beckett's jaw set. "Changes, you mean."

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, sweetheart. Just some adjustments, some clarification. If we're going to have the bones of this place in, I want to nail down the lighting."

"We'll do it now. I'll call in an order. What do you want?"

"Food." When one of the men hailed him, Ryder left Beckett to figure it out.