And that wasn’t being stubborn or sulky.
“And so what if it is,” she mumbled.
Restless and annoyed, she pulled out the bag of kitchen trash to take out to the shed. Once out, she pulled a few weeds, deadheaded her roses. And yes, she looked over toward Fit to see what was going on.
She didn’t spot Ryder, which she told herself was just as well. She’d think about the best route out of this stalemate they were in.
Walking back, she started to let herself in The Lobby door, found it closed and locked when she
“Stop this,” she muttered. “Let me back in.”
The lever wouldn’t budge.
Nor would it budge on the other door, or the second-floor access door.
“For God’s sake! You’re being ridiculous.”
Hope stormed down the steps again. Fine, she’d just go get Avery’s key. And if that failed, she’d call Carolee and ask her to come in early.
With a full head of steam, she started down the sidewalk beside the building, and stopped short a foot from Ryder as he came in her direction.
He took one long look at her face. “Problem?”
“No. Yes, damn it. She’s locked me out.”
“Carolee?”
“No, not Carolee. My key won’t work on any of the doors back here.”
He simply held out a hand for it, and taking it, walked around to the first door.
The key slid in, turned.
“Works now.”
“I can see that.”
“What did you do to piss her off?”
“I didn’t do anything.” She snatched her key out, started to step inside.
The fireplace came on with a whoosh of flame. Every light began to flash and blink. From where she stood, Hope heard the refrigerator door slam repeatedly.
“Looks like pissed off to me.” Ryder nudged Hope aside.
The minute he stepped inside, all the activity stopped.
“Did this just start up?”
“Yes, just this minute. I don’t know why she’s upset. I’ve put a solid five hours in on the search over the last couple of nights.”
“She’s settled down now.” He started to turn back to the door, and it started again.
He picked up the remote and again switched off the fire. “Cut it out!”
The answer was an audible click of the lock on the door.
“Maybe she’s upset you haven’t been around the last couple of days,” Hope suggested.
Ryder set the remote down. “I got the impression the innkeeper didn’t want me around.”
“You got the wrong impression. I didn’t like you doing something that involved me without talking to me.”
“I didn’t like seeing you get slapped.” He shrugged. “You can’t like everything.”
“I’m not wrong to want you to talk to me.”
“I’m not wrong to stand up for you.”
She started to argue, realized she couldn’t. And didn’t want to. “Tell me I’m not wrong about wanting you to talk to me, and I’ll tell you you’re not wrong to stand up for me.”
“Okay. You first.”
Her laugh snuck through about the same time as his quick, cocky grin. “All right. You’re not wrong.”
“Neither are you. Are we finished with it?”
“No, we’re not. I need to know you’ll consider how I feel.”
Frustration flashed back on his face. “Hope, I considered nothing but. I considered your hurt and your embarrassment. I wasn’t going to let it slide.”
“If you’d just talked to me first—”
“You wouldn’t have talked me out of it. We’d’ve had the fight sooner than we had it, but I’d’ve still gone and said what I had to say.”
“I wouldn’t have talked you out of it,” she agreed. “I would have tried, at first. Then I’d have gone with you.”
He stopped, frowned. “You’d have gone down there?”
“Yes. In fact, before I knew you had, I’d calmed down enough to think it through. I was going to handle it by letter—a letter listing the details—to Baxter Wickham. Because I realized I couldn’t, and shouldn’t, let it slide either.”
“Face-to-face is better. But I didn’t consider that part—the part where you’d have wanted to go. You were crying.”
“I stopped. I needed to cry, then I stopped, and I started to think. There were things I needed to say, and I intended to write them down. I admit I would have done several drafts, taken a few days to perfect the tone and language.”
“I bet.”
“But if you’d told me, and I’d realized I couldn’t talk you out of going, I’d have gone, Ryder. I’d have had that face-to-face.”
“Okay.” His shoulders relaxed as he nodded. “Okay. I can say I’m sorry I cheated you out of that.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate you standing up for me the way I should have.”
“Good enough. Now are we done with it?”
“No.”
“Oh, man.”
“I’ll get you a cold drink, then you’ll tell me what you said to Baxter, and what he said to you. Reverse the situation. You know damn well you’d want to know.”
“You want me to replay the back-and-forth?”
“I absolutely do.”
“Crap.” Details, he thought. Women always wanted them. “Okay, but if I do, I want makeup sex.”
She got him a cold Coke from the refrigerator, smiled. “That’s a deal.”
He could take the time, he calculated as he dropped down on a stool. It felt good to get off his feet for five minutes. It felt good to look at her, up close, to catch her scent, to hear her voice. He could tell her about the deal with Wickham. He didn’t see why he needed to tell her they’d run into each other right outside because he’d dropped what he’d been doing with the intention of coming just where he’d ended up—with her—and having it out.
He’d had enough, that’s all, enough of giving her time to cool off and the space to do it in. Enough of thinking about her all the goddamn time to the point he’d lost sleep.
He never lost sleep over a woman.
And he’d had enough of trying to figure out what the hell she wanted him to do since his ever-reliable flower gambit had gone down in flames.
So he owed Lizzy a favor for maneuvering things so he was where he wanted to be. Better than, he admitted, because he was sitting down with a cold Coke and Hope was sitting beside him, waiting. Watching.
And there was a bout of makeup sex in his future.
“Well?” she said at length.
“I’m thinking. How long do you figure before the blonde blasts the asshole she married, tossing you in his face?”
“I don’t know her that well. Probably not long,” Hope admitted.
“And being a gutless asshole, how long would it take him to turn it around so you made the moves, came onto him, that kind of thing.”
“Immediately.”
