Hope let out a sigh. “Despite your mutual obsession with tongues and hands, I feel better. Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Grinning, Avery gave Hope’s hand a squeeze. “And I do mean anytime. Ry’s going to be working on two sides of you for the next however. The odds of further situations are excellent.”

The tension settled into the back of her neck again. “I’m not looking for further situations.”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t walk into one.”

“Or open the door and let one in,” Clare added.

“The two of you think that way because your current life punch is spiked with weddings and babies. Mine is a crystal-clear bowl of career.”

“We’ve got careers,” Avery pointed out.

“And excellent ones. We should all get back to them.”

Even as she started to rise, the door opened. Justine Montgomery walked in.

Her appealing wild mass of dark brown hair tumbled out of a messy tail. She pulled off sunglasses with vivid green frames and grinned. “Hello, girls.”

Nothing to feel guilty about, Hope reminded herself. Nothing at all.

“Powwow?”

“We were just catching up,” Clare began.

Justine walked over, laid a hand on Clare’s shoulder. “How are we doing?”

In answer, Clare rubbed a hand over her belly. “We’re doing good.”

“I was going to run down to see you, and see if I can steal the boys from the sitter later today. I’ve got a yen for a picnic.”

“They’d love it.”

“Then it’s a date. And you.” She pointed at Avery. “I’m hoping we can do another walk-through of the new space, and snag a little time for wedding talk.”

“I’m all over it. I ordered the lights from the site you sent me. They’re perfect. I can go over as soon as Dave gets here.”

“Works for me. Actually, Hope, I came by to see you. I found some furniture for the upper porch I think will work.” Justine opened her huge bag, as vivid a green as her frames, fished out a cut sheet. “What do you think?”

“Perfect. Casual, looks comfortable, and the tones and textures are right.”

“I thought so. Go ahead and order. And I want to hook up with you at some point about how we’re going to handle the guest passes for the gym, and what we could include in a package for guests. It’s a ways off, but—”

“It’s never too soon to plan,” Hope finished.

“Exactly. Staff’s going to be key, and I’ll need to find a good manager. I’ve got some feelers out.”

“Speaking of managers, I was thinking we might start having a managers’ meeting, maybe every four to six weeks. Just to coordinate events, ideas, marketing plans.”

Justine beamed at Hope. “I like it.”

“I’ll send an email out to everyone then, so we can work out the best time. If we go with early afternoons, we can use The Dining Room at the inn. And I should get back.”

“I don’t want to break up the party.”

“We’re caught up.” Hope got to her feet.

“Then I’ll walk over with you, before I go harass my boys. I’ll see the two of you later. What do you say to a nice soft, slatey blue to replace that green on the fitness center?” she asked Hope as they walked to the door.

“I say you’re my hero.”

Avery waited until the door closed. “There’s a thing going on.”

Content, Clare folded her hands on her belly. “Oh yes, there’s a definite thing going on.”

“How do we feel about that?”

“They’re not each other’s usual type. Not even close.”

“Absolutely not,” Avery agreed.

“Maybe that’s why I feel so good about it.”

“Me, too!” Avery popped up, grabbed a Coke and a ginger ale out of the cooler. “Part of it could be we’re in love with two of the brothers. There’s one of us, and one of them left.”

“It’s the kind of symmetry Hope would appreciate. If she wasn’t so annoyed and resistant. But it’s not the big part of why. We love them, so we want them to be happy. To have someone in their lives who makes them happy.”

“Ryder dates a lot, but …”

“He’s never involved,” Clare finished. “And Hope’s not dating at all. Hasn’t dated since—”

“Jonathan,” Avery said with loathing.

“He hurt her more than she’ll admit, even to herself. And over and above that, she’s pushed herself into this mind-set that she doesn’t want or need to date or have a relationship.”

“You had the same mind-set,” Avery pointed out.

“That was different, and I did date a little.”

“Very little.”

“Very little. But I had three children to think of, and a business to run. Plus, and most important, there wasn’t anyone until Beckett.” Clare sipped slowly. “And there’s another thing, and it sounds a little crazy.”

“I’m okay with crazy.”

“Lizzy. She, in a way, gave Beckett and me, and you and Owen, that little push—that springboard, so to speak. And look at us.”

Avery turned her hand, palm up to Clare. “Married, pregnant with twins.”

Clare mirrored the gesture. “Wedding planning. Do you think she, somehow, knows something, or sees something, senses something we don’t? About feelings or potential feelings?”

“Maybe. And that’s no crazier than having her in residence at the inn while she waits for somebody named Billy.”

“I guess it’s not. I wish we could find out who he was, what he was to her.”

“I’m banking on Hope and Owen. It may take a while, but they’ll dig it out.” Avery smiled at Clare over her soda. “So, how much about all this do we tell Owen and Beckett?”

“Oh, everything.”

“Good. They’ll rag on him, which will piss Ryder off. There’s a better chance of further situations if he’s a little pissed off. And, you know, after that asshole Jonathan, Hope could use somebody a little more real.”

“Ryder’s real.” Clare broke out with a grin. “She called him snotty.”

“I know.” Delighted, Avery tipped back and howled with laughter. “And he comes back with snooty. Snotty and snooty. It’s probably wrong, but I love it.”

“If it’s wrong, I’m right there with you.” She lifted her can, tapped Avery’s. “Here’s to the promise of an interesting summer.”


SHE MANAGED TO avoid him for the better part of a week. She saw him—not that she was looking—but it was hard to miss Ryder Montgomery swaggering from one job site to another in a town the size of Boonsboro.

Into MacT’s, down to the bakery, around to Fit. She’d catch sight of him chatting with Dick the barber outside of Sherry’s, or stopping for a word with one of the Crawfords.

Here, there, everywhere, she thought with some resentment. And to avoid running into him she’d all but put herself under house arrest.

It was ridiculous.

Not that she hadn’t been busy. The inn proved popular for its first summer. She’d tended to two out-of-town authors Clare hosted for a book signing. Then there’d been the sweet couple who’d come into the area for their fiftieth high school reunion—and the young couple who’d gotten engaged in Titania and Oberon, and already talked of spending their wedding night in the same room.

So far she’d had charming guests, strange guests, demanding guests, and delightful guests. Probably everything in between, she mused as she hauled out the hose to water the flowers and shrubs.

At the moment she had six rooms booked—two sisters, their mother, and the three daughters they had between them. They’d had a fun—and rowdy—time the night before. She expected they’d sleep in before they headed out for their facials and massages.

She’d definitely plan a Girls’ Night of her own. Clare and Avery, Justine and Carolee, Clare’s mom, Carolee’s daughter. She’d have her own mother and sister come down from Philadelphia.

Some fun food, some wine, plenty of wedding and baby talk.

Just what she needed.

She soaked the mulch, pleased the Knock-Out Roses bloomed and the arching wisteria showed so prettily green. Its flowers had sweetened the air in May—and she imagined them blooming for Avery’s wedding the next spring.

She hummed to herself, soothed by the homey task, ignoring the banging and sawing from the building across the lot. In her mind she flipped through her list of morning chores, into the afternoon, the evening, and ended her day’s plans with a little research on Billy.

Perfect.

The sound behind her made her jump, spin around.

“Hey!” was all Ryder managed before reflex had her jerking the spray of water up from his crotch. She hit him square in the face.

“Oh God.” She shot the spray to the side, fumbled it off.

Slowly, very slowly, he pulled off his sunglasses. He stood, hair and clothes dripping, eyes steaming.

D.A. obligingly lapped at the pool of water on the pavers.

“What the fuck?”

“Shh!” Instinctively, she glanced up at the porch. “I have guests. A lot of female guests.”

“So you’re hosing down any male who comes on the property?”

“I didn’t mean … I’m sorry. So sorry. You startled me, and I just …”

“You think it’s funny?” he demanded as a choked laugh snuck out of her throat.

“No. Yes. Yes, it’s funny, but that doesn’t mean I’m not sorry. Really sorry,” she added, whipping the hose behind her back as he stepped forward. “You shouldn’t sneak up on a woman with a loaded hose.”

“I wasn’t sneaking anywhere. I was walking.” He shoved the dripping hair out of his face. “Let me see that hose.”

“Absolutely not. It was an accident. What you’d do with it would be deliberate. If you wait here I’ll get you a towel.”

“I don’t want a towel. I want some damn coffee, which was why I was walking—like a normal person—from the job site there, to the kitchen there.”

“I’ll get you coffee, and a towel.” Wary, she gave him a wide berth—turned off the hose at the source—then dashed inside.

She giggled, snickered, chuckled her way to the laundry room, grabbed a towel from the shelf, hurried back to the kitchen to pour coffee into a go-cup. Added the two sugars she knew he used, fit on the top.