Нора Робертс - The Last Boyfriend

He’d backed out again, and the next time he’d seen Avery, she’d been dry-eyed and steady.

She was rarely otherwise.

But Willy B was right. There had to be places that bruised easily, and he should be careful.

Other boyfriends. Other, which made him—by Willy B’s gauge—her new boyfriend. Or current. Or . . .

He hadn’t really thought about it. To joke, sure—about being her first. Now the one-two punch of Franny, then Willy B made him consider the big picture.

He’d never taken her out on a date. To the movies, a concert, to dinner.

He’d never bought her flowers.

Okay, he bought her a present, so he got some points there. If he was keeping score, which, of course, he wasn’t. Exactly.

She usually ended up cooking for him. Sure, she liked to cook, but that wasn’t right, was it?

If he wanted this to be a real relationship, and he did, he had to start putting more effort into it.

“I haven’t put any effort into it,” he admitted. “Major fail.”

Fresh start, he decided, and turned to go in.

He spotted the bottle of Heineken on the table between the doors.

“How the hell did you do that?” Though a chill ran up his spine, he picked up the bottle, took a drink. “I don’t know whether it’s spooky or handy. But thanks.”

He took another drink. “Now I’m standing here, freezing to death, drinking a beer served by a ghost and talking to myself.”

Shaking his head, he went back in, secured the door. He took his beer, headed downstairs to find Avery.

He should’ve known she’d be doing something useful. He found her in The Lounge, passing champagne to guests.

“Where’s yours?” he demanded.

“There you are. My what?”

“Champagne.”

“Oh, I had some. I think I set it down in the kitchen when I was switching trays.”

“You’re not here to work.” He took the bottle, then her hand, and drew her toward the empty flutes. “You’re here to enjoy yourself.” And he poured her a glass of champagne.

“I’m enjoying. Your hands are freezing.”

“I was outside for a while. Let’s find a place to sit. You should get off your feet.”

“You need to mingle.”

“I’ve been mingling. Now I want to sit down with you, spend some time with you.” Leaning down, he laid his lips on hers.

She blinked up at him. It wasn’t as if they were having a clandestine affair, but it was the first time he’d kissed her—like that—in a public setting.

New Year’s, she recalled, but people traditionally kissed at midnight, so it didn’t really count.

She could actually feel speculative eyes on them.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m great.” He draped an arm over her shoulders to steer her out, then toward the stairs. “How are you?”

“I’m absolutely fine. I just wanted to check on the—”

“Avery, you don’t have to check on anything. There’s plenty of everything, and people are enjoying themselves. You get to relax.”

“I don’t relax at parties unless I’m doing something. My hands start itching.”

“Scratch them,” he suggested.

“Hey, Owen.”

Charlie Reeder, old friend and town cop, crossed their path. “Could use a hand a minute.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Your cousin, Spence? He’s getting ready to go. He was pounding them back pretty good tonight. He won’t give up the car keys. I tried talking to him, but he got belligerent. I don’t want to have to arrest him. Maybe you can talk him down before it comes to that.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be back.”

It took him twenty minutes, much of which he spent with his cousin draped around him in drunken sentiment, or hee-hawing as he tried to walk a straight line to prove his competency.

When he fell on his ass a third time, Spence finally gave up his keys.

“I’ll drive him home, Owen,” Charlie told him. “We’ve got to get going anyway. Kids are with a sitter. Charlene’ll follow me, and we’ll pour him through his front door.”

“Appreciate it, Charlie.”

“All in a day’s work.” He paused a moment, hands on his skinny hips as he looked over The Courtyard, up to the porches. “She’s a beauty. I booked a night for our anniversary next May. A surprise for Charlene.”

“Which room?”

“She seems to favor the one with the drapes on the bed and the ginormous tub.”

“Titania and Oberon. Good choice.”

“Hope talked me into the package that comes with a bottle of champagne, and dinner for two and whatnot. It’ll be ten years, so we ought to do something special.”

“Hope will make sure it is.”

“Well, I’ll help you get Spence into the car.”

“I’ve got it. Go ahead and get Charlene. Thanks for the assist.”

“Not a problem.”

By the time he got back inside, the crowd had thinned out. His fresh hunt for Avery was hampered by other guests preparing to leave, stopping him with thanks for the evening, compliments on the inn, and good-luck wishes.

He appreciated it, he really did, but it occurred to him they’d just had their second party as a couple where he’d spent more time without Avery than with her.

And she’d spent more time serving than being served.

He found her in The Dining Room, bussing tables.

“Don’t you know how to be a guest?”

“Not really. And I promised Hope and Carolee I’d help them clean up after. It’s pretty much after. It was great, Owen. Everyone had a good time, and really loved seeing the inn. Racked up some bookings, too.”

“So I hear.” He took the plates from her. “Where’s your champagne?”

“I set it down somewhere, but I drank most of it this time. I just scooted your mom up to The Library. We’re going to bring up a fruit and cheese tray, some crackers. Most of you didn’t get much food.” Insistent, she took the plates back from him. “Go on up. I’ll be up there soon. I’ll finish up with Hope, then I have to get my bag out of her apartment.”

“I’ll get it. Where is it?”

“Just inside the door, but her apartment’s locked.”

“I’ll get the key.”

He got her bag, put a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, added two flutes, and pocketed the key to Nick and Nora. After setting the ice bucket in his room for the night, he found his family, including Clare’s parents, sprawled in The Library and already diving into food trays.

“I didn’t think I was hungry till right now.” Justine grabbed some crackers. “There’s my missing son.”

“Spence,” he said. “Car keys. It took some persuading.”

“You should’ve found me,” Justine told him. “Spence listens to me.”

“It’s all good.” He realized he hadn’t had much to eat, just as Avery had suggested, and took a handful of olives before sitting on the floor. “They came, they saw, we conquered.”

“And then some,” Beckett agreed, snuggled with Clare on the sofa they shared with his mother and Willy B.

“It’s really done.” Justine sighed. “When I think of the past two years . . .”

“Would you do it again?” Clare’s mom, Rosie, asked her.

“Don’t give her any ideas.” Ryder cast his eyes to the ceiling.

“I wouldn’t, not this. This was a once-in-a-lifetime.”

“Thank you, God.”

But she laughed as she booted Ryder’s foot. “I have other ideas. For later. For tonight?” She lifted her glass. “Here’s to my boys. Ryder, Owen, and Beckett. You made my dream come true.”

Ryder reached over, laid a hand on hers.

“You dream good,” he said after a moment. “Just do me a favor and sleep quiet for a while.”

From the gleam in her eye as she sipped her champagne, Owen suspected she already had another dream going.

Good nights came late and lazily. Avery calculated Justine and her father had some sort of signal to make the sleeping arrangements a bit less awkward for their children.

Or at least the male children, she thought, as she didn’t feel awkward at all.

Her father lumbered out while Justine remained. A few minutes later, Justine wished them all sweet dreams.

By tacit agreement no one mentioned the fact Justine and Willy B were spending the night together just down the hall.

Maybe, if she thought about it, the fact she and Owen would be spending the night together at the other end of that same hall, awkwardness—or more likely amusement in her case—would ensue.

So she didn’t think about it.

Instead, inside the Deco flair of Nick and Nora, Avery stretched her arms high. Everything felt good, she decided. Everything felt just exactly right.

To please herself, she turned in a circle to take in the room, and saw the champagne on ice.

“You copped a bottle!”

“Hey, I prefer the term liberated.” On her grin, he walked over to pop the cork.

“This is like dreamscape—or some beautifully produced play, and I get a starring role. A beautiful and downright snazzy room after a lovely, happy party, with champagne provided by a sexy guy. I’d check my list if I had one, but I think I currently have it all.”

He offered her a glass. “Now you do.”

“To having it all then.” She tapped her glass to his, sipped as she wandered.

“It really went well, didn’t it?” she said to Owen. “Lots of happy faces, lots of happy talk.”

“All of that, and you had to see and hear most of it. You seemed to be everywhere at once.”

“I can’t sit still at a party.” She set the shoes she carried beside the dresser. “Gotta keep moving or I might miss something. You disappeared for a while.”

He took off the tie he’d already loosened. “I toured some people through, then had to close the doors in E&D.”