The Perfect Hope

“It’s not my first rodeo, Ry.” He pulled out his phone as it signaled. “Owen’s in The Courtyard with food.”

“What’s he doing over there?”

“You want to eat, let’s find out.”

He did want to eat, and he’d be within sight if the steel arrived. And since the plans were burned in his brain, he didn’t need the blueprints to bug Beckett about them.

“About the bamboo floors,” he began as they started out.

“Mom’s set on bamboo; so am I for that matter. Don’t even go there.”

“It would save time and money, and look fine if we ran the padded gym flooring throughout.”

“It’d look boring and pedestrian. Bamboo’s got a nice give to it for the classroom, the interior steps and hallways.”

“The steps are going to be a pain in my ass if we use wood.”

“Not budging on it,” Beckett told him. “And you can bet your ass, pain or not, Mom’s not either.”

They stepped into The Courtyard where Owen sat under a cheerful umbrella with three take-out containers and a stack of papers.

“Hope caught me as I was going by and said to eat out here. Nice.”

“What’d I get?” Ryder flipped back the lid of the container, nodded at the panini and fries. “That works.”

“I’ve been going over the paint system for the exterior of the fitness center. It’s a lot of steps, a big process, to get those cinder blocks looking like anything but cinder blocks.”

“Don’t you start,” Beckett warned, and grabbed his own panini. “No way we’re just slapping on some paint and calling it a day. It’ll still be ugly.”

“It’s already less ugly,” Ryder pointed out. “But I’m on your side of this one.”

“Who said I’m not?” Owen stretched out his legs, circled his tired neck. “I’m saying we could do it, but we should go ahead and hire a sub who knows how to do it. It’d take us too long, and there’s too much room for screwups.”

Before Ryder could argue about that, Hope came out with a tray. A big pitcher, glasses, and a plate of cookies.

“Iced tea,” she announced. “And there’s more where that came from. I swear, the calendar turned over to July, and the furnace revved up. They’re calling for triple digits by Sunday.”

“Thanks. You didn’t have to bother,” Owen told her. “Avery said you’re slammed this weekend.”

“Boy, are we. All the guests are off doing something right now, so I’ve got a minute. There’s a lot of interest in the fitness center and the new restaurant. Everybody wants opening dates.”

“Everybody’s going to have to wait,” Ryder muttered.

“I’m telling them to watch Facebook and the web pages. Let me know if you want anything else.”

Ryder downed half a glass of tea when she went inside. “Be right back,” he said, and followed her.

“Does he know he’s hooked?” Owen wondered.

“Ry? Hell no.”

“That was a rhetorical question. Mid-August for MacT’s,” Owen added with his mouth full. “It’s moving good, and I know how Ry is about deadlines, but it’s not going to be a problem. I figure it’ll take about the same time for him to realize he’s hooked.”

Hope started to turn into her office when she heard the door open and close. Walking back toward the kitchen, she smiled as she saw Ryder.

“I told Owen you could eat inside where it’s cool. If you want I can—”

He grabbed—he always seemed to be grabbing her as if she might get away. And the kiss was hot as July.

“Just wanted to get that done,” he told her. “Now, I won’t be so distracted.”

“Funny, it works just the opposite on me.”

“Well, everybody’s out, so—”

“No.” She laughed, nudged him back. “Appealing, but no. I’m swamped.”

“Carolee—”

“Is getting a root canal.”

His wince was knee-jerk and heartfelt. “I didn’t hear about that.”

“She just went in this morning because I nagged her. She was going to pump Advil and tough it out until Monday. Laurie from the bookstore’s going to come over and give me a hand later.”

“You need any help until? I can spare Beck.”

“No, I should be fine.”

He had an idea now just what went into her day—and a weekend with sixteen guests meant that day would be jam-packed. “You could probably use a vacation, a long weekend. Something.”

“I think I’ll have a couple days clear in September. I intend to be a sloth.”

“Block it out. Mom would be okay with it.”

“I’ll think about that.” She gestured back as her office phone rang. “But we’re a popular place.”

“Block it out,” he repeated, and left her to work.

Ryder dropped back into his chair, picked up his sandwich. “Carolee’s getting a root canal, and we’re overworking the innkeeper.”

“You can call her Hope,” Owen pointed out. “You’re sleeping with her.”

“Root canal?” As his brother had, Beckett winced. “Does she need more help? Hope?”

“I don’t know. Not my area. But when she doesn’t have people in there, she’s doing stuff to get ready for having people in there, or that marketing crap. Whatever. She needs some time off.”

“There wouldn’t be any self-interest wound through there?” Owen suggested.

“Sex isn’t the problem. If she runs herself into the ground, we’re in trouble.”

“Okay, that’s a point. Plus, none of us wants her overworked. So—”

Owen broke off as she burst out the door. “I’ve got documents,” she announced. “My cousin came through. There’s a load of them. I don’t know when I’m going to get to them, but—”

“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