The Perfect Hope

“I’m going to build them a tree house. I haven’t gotten past the design stage yet. Too much going on.”

“Nothing like a tree house,” Owen said. “Man, we spent hours in ours. Stockpiled candy, comic books. Remember,” he said to Ryder, “you bought that skin mag off Denny. I saw my first porn in that tree house. Good times.”

“I got laid the first time up there. Tiffany Carvell. Excellent times.”

“Christ.” Beckett closed his eyes. “Don’t mention porn or getting laid to Clare. She’ll never let me build it.”

“Pussy.”

Beckett sneered right back at Ryder. “Say that to me again when you’re married.”

“The two of you can drive that train for a while. The women of the world need at least one Montgomery brother free and clear.”

“I’m going to like being married,” Owen commented.

“You might as well be already.”

“Yeah. And I like it. I like knowing she’ll be there when I get home, or she’ll be coming home. And it is weird,” he said to Beckett, “that she won’t be tonight.”

“They must be having a good time. Clare only called in once to check on the boys. And she said Hope needed some girl time. Speaking of which, what’s the deal with this Wickham guy? Clare didn’t have the whole story.”

“He thought he could poach her.”

“Fucker.”

“Fucker in a five-thousand-dollar suit.”

“He dumped her, right?” Owen lazily sipped at his beer. “For some blonde. Pretty hot blonde if you like the type. Avery showed me her picture in the Style section of the Post.”

“The Style section?” Ryder snorted. “Seriously?”

“Kiss ass. Avery found it, showed me. So, he dumps her for the blonde, has his big, splashy society wedding, then he comes up here to our place and tries to poach our innkeeper? Makes you want to kick his ass and mess up his five-thousand-dollar suit.”

“He added a perk. She’d hook back up with him and he’d set her up.”

Owen sat up now. “What the fuck did you say?”

“You heard me. He’d set her up as his side piece. Buy her a house, toss in some spending money and a trip to Paris or some shit.”

“And yet he lives,” Beckett murmured. “Why didn’t you beat the shit out of him?”

“Because I didn’t know about it until he’d left. Besides, she handled it, handled him. She was telling him to stick it when I walked by. And check this.” He dug for more chips. “She sashays right up, tells me to go with it, and plants a long, steamy one on me.”

“I didn’t hear about that.” Owen looked from one brother to the other. “Why didn’t I hear about that? I hear about everything.”

“It was just yesterday, and we’ve been busy since. Word’s probably inching along the grapevine now, which I figure she didn’t think about at the time.”

“You went with it?” Beckett asked.

“Sure. Why not? I got the picture, and I didn’t like the look of him. Or his suit. I figured she just wanted to give him the business, make him jealous. No skin off mine. Then after he left … She was shaking.”

“Goddamn it,” Beckett muttered.

“Most of it was mad. She was plenty mad. Insulted. But she was shaken up, too.”

Owen pulled out his phone. “Did you see his car?”

“This year’s Mercedes C63 sedan, black.” Ryder rattled off the license plate. “I don’t think he’ll be back—she hit him where it hurts—but it doesn’t hurt to keep an eye out.”

“Exactly. Son of a bitch just got married and he’s trying to make Hope his … He did her a favor when he dumped her.”

“Yeah, she seems to get that.”

Beckett shot out a finger. “She made you the pie.”

Ryder grinned. “Good pie. She wanted to even the score, I guess. So I took it, then I put a move back on her. I like to be ahead in the game.”

“You kissed her again?” Owen demanded.

“The other times she started it. I was starting to feel cheap and used.”

When Beckett laughed, Owen punched his arm. “Hey.”

“It may not be funny. Are you starting a thing with Hope?”

Ryder took a lazy slug of beer. “That would come under the heading of none of your damn business.”

“She’s the innkeeper.”

“Avery’s a tenant. It didn’t stop you.”

“Yeah, but …” While Owen tried to work that out, Ryder shrugged.

“Relax. Jesus. Kissing a woman—an available, willing woman—is a man’s God-given right. It doesn’t mean I’m looking at bassinets. Plus, she kissed me first.”

“And she’s smokin’,” Beckett added.

“Married, father of three with two in the oven,” Ryder pointed out.

“I could be the father of twenty, I’d still have eyes. She’s smart, smokin’—former beauty queen, remember— and bakes pies. Nice job.”

“She’s got nice moves, too.”

Owen put his head in his hands and made Beckett laugh again. “He’s just got to worry about something.”

“She’s the innkeeper. She’s Avery’s and Clare’s best friend. She got dumped by the son of her boss.”

“You don’t want to put me in the same class as Wickham, bro.”

“I’m not. I’m just stating facts. Add one more. Mom’s crazy about her. So if you want to have sex with her, and she wants to have sex with you, great. Just don’t screw things up.”

“You’re starting to piss me off,” Ryder said mildly—always a dangerous sign. “Why don’t you give me the name of a woman I’ve screwed things up with?”

“She’s not just a woman. She’s Hope. And I feel sort of—”

“You’ve got a thing for her?” Ryder asked.

“Oh, just suck me,” Owen snapped back. “I’ve spent more time with her than either of you, dealing with the setup of the inn, and researching for our resident ghost. She’s sort of like a sister.”

“You’re sort of like my brother.”

“Yeah, so it’s weird. And Avery’s given me the down and dirty on the Wickham thing. He really did a number on her, Ry. The whole frigging family did. So, she’s, you know, maybe still a little tender.”

“What do you mean, the whole frigging family?”

“They knew. Wickham’s old man, his mother. He’s got a sister, too. They all knew he was stringing her, and whether they thought it was okay or not, they let it slide. She was managing their hotel, and she handled a lot of their personal event planning. They had her over to their house for dinner, had her up to their place in the Hamptons. Avery said they treated her like one of the family, so she felt like one of the family. So it was like getting dumped by the whole damn family and getting screwed over by Wickham, and being used by her employers. They fucked her over good.”

It spelled things out, clearly. Ryder decided the whole Wickham clan could go to hell. “I don’t fuck women over. Neither does my family.”

“No, you don’t. We don’t. But now you’ve got a better picture.”

“Yeah, I got the picture. If anything moves between us, and I’m not saying it will, I’ll be sure she’s got a clear one of her own. Satisfied?”

“Yeah.”

“And don’t go running to Mom.”

“Jesus, why would I? I’m no tattletale.”

“You told her I broke her cut-glass vase throwing the ball in the house, and hid the pieces,” Beckett reminded him.

“I was eight!” Genuine grief and insult vibrated in Owen’s voice. “How long are you going to hold that over me?”