The Perfect Hope Part 62

"I don't have a problem. I'm waiting for you to finish."

"Fine. I ran into her, that's all, and she talked about getting together. Seeing the inn, and, you know, maybe we could rent a room."

"Oh." Hope folded her hands neatly. "That must have been awkward, as you're currently sleeping with the innkeeper."

With his scowl, his eyes held a fulminating green. "Awkward's a stupid word. It's a girl word. It was weird. I had to tell her I was seeing somebody because I didn't want it to be weird."

"Was she angry?"

"No. She's not like that. We're friends."

All reason, Hope nodded. "It's good, even commendable, you can stay friends with someone you've slept with. It says something about you."

"It's not about that." Something about her calm, G.o.dd.a.m.n reasonable responses put his back up. "It's about being clear. I'm not sleeping with anyone else, so you're not sleeping with anyone else. That's clear."

"It absolutely is."

"I'm not like that a.s.shole you were tangled up with."

"You're nothing like that a.s.shole," she agreed. "And, just as important to me, I'm not the same person I was when I was tangled up with that a.s.shole. Isn't it handy we are who we are, and maybe better, can be who we are with each other?"

"I guess it is." He hissed out a breath, and finally most of the frustration. "You throw me off," he admitted.

"How?"

"You don't ask questions."

"I ask plenty of questions. Otherwise I wouldn't know you got that scar on your b.u.t.t taking a tumble sledding when you were eight. Or you lost your virginity in the tree house your father built you-fortunately some years later. Or-"

"About where we're going," he interrupted. "Women always ask where we're going."

"I'm enjoying where we are so I don't need to know where we might be. I like being here. I'm happy being with you, and that's enough."

Relieved, he sat on the side of the bed, shifted to face her. "I've never known anybody like you. And I can't figure you out."

She lifted a hand to his cheek. "It's the same for me. I like that you'd come here tonight, to tell me all this. That it bothered you enough you'd need to tell me."

"Some women can't handle a guy being friends with another woman, or having a conversation with one he's had s.e.x with."

"I'm not the jealous type. Maybe if I had been, if I'd been less trusting, I wouldn't have been betrayed, but I'm not made that way. If I can't trust the man I'm with, I shouldn't be with him. I trusted Jonathan, and I was wrong. I trust you, and I know I'm right. You don't lie, and that matters to me. I won't lie to you, and we'll be fine."

"I've got more friends."

Laughing, she linked her hands around his neck. "I bet you do." She kissed him lightly, then lingered over it. "Are you going to stay?"

"Might as well."

"Good. Let me put this work away."

HE PUT EXTRA time in most evenings, sometimes alone, sometimes with one brother or with both. If she didn't have guests, they had dinner together, or went out somewhere, then stayed at his place.

She never left anything at his house, which he found strange. Women were always leaving little bits of themselves behind. But not Hope.

So maybe he picked up a bottle of the shower gel stuff she used to keep at his place. h.e.l.l, he liked the way she smelled, didn't he? And he sprang for a couple new towels since his were heading toward ratty.

It wasn't like he'd filled his place with flowers and smelly candles.

She stocked his beer, he stocked her shower stuff, and yeah, the wine she liked. No big deal. She didn't make an issue out of it.

She didn't b.i.t.c.h about the dog, and he'd been primed for that one. But she didn't-h.e.l.l, she'd bought Dumba.s.s a bed and a toy so he'd be at home when they stayed over in her apartment.

He thought about that more than he should-more than he liked-that she didn't do what he a.s.sumed she would.

The constant surprise of her kept him off-balance in a way he'd come to appreciate.

And he sure as h.e.l.l appreciated she wasn't the type who whined when work kept him tied up, as it did now.

He glanced around the bar side of MacT's, pleased with the lay of the land, the gleam of the hardwood, the symmetry of the lights.

"When we get this b.a.s.t.a.r.d done," he began as he and his brothers worked to finish the bar, "I want a Warrior's Pizza. It's Beckett's turn to buy."

"Can't do it." Beckett paused, swiped at his sweaty face. "I need to get home, give Clare a hand. She's so freaking tired by the end of the day."

"It's Ry's turn anyway," Owen said. "And I could eat. Avery's closing tonight, so it works out."

"How'd it get to be my turn?"

"That's how turns work. G.o.d, this b.i.t.c.h is big. And beautiful."

With the last piece in place, they stepped back, admired the dark, lush gleam of mahogany, the detail of the panels they'd built and installed.

It still lacked the rail, the top-and the taps-but Ryder saw it as d.a.m.n good work.

Owen ran his fingers over the side. "The way this is moving, we'll have this place punched out in a week, week and a half, tops. It's handy Ry's stuck on the innkeeper and has to keep himself busy right here."

"It's looking good," Beckett agreed. "Only downside is between all this work, and Ry keeping Hope so d.a.m.n busy, we haven't gotten as far on finding Billy as we thought we would."

"It's a lot to get through," Owen reminded him. "We're getting there. Lizzy's old man managed to expunge a h.e.l.l of a lot from official records. There are gaps. Jesus, what kind of father basically tries to erase his own kid?"

"The kind kids run away from," Ryder said. "Like she did."

"Owen? Are you in here? I saw the lights when ..." Avery walked through the opening from restaurant to bar side, stopped dead. "Oh! Oh! The bar. You finished the bar. You made my bar! You didn't tell me."

"If you hadn't been so nosy you'd have been surprised tomorrow. The top's going on tomorrow. The counter guys are scheduled to do the insert in the morning."