“Stop. Just stop.” She spoke to herself as much as him, gripping her hands in her hair as she turned. “None of that matters. None of that is the point! You took it on yourself, without a word to me, to drive to the Wickham, to tell Jonathan’s father all this sordid mess.”

“That’s right. I talked to him, and it’s handled.”

“You talk to him, but you don’t talk to me. You couldn’t spend five minutes talking to me, but you’d spend close to four hours driving round-trip to Georgetown and talking to Baxter Wickham. I don’t expect you to dry my tears, Ryder, or kiss it better, but I damn well expect you to talk to me, to take my thoughts, feelings, needs into account. And until you do, I’m done talking to you.”

“Wait a damn minute,” he said when she strode to the door.

She looked back. “I waited four hours. It’s your turn to wait. And thanks for the goddamn flowers.”

She sailed out, leaving him baffled and pissed off all over again.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CLIMBING UP AND DOWN HER STEPLADDER TO REMOVE, wash, and replace every vent filter in the inn kept Hope’s mind from wandering—very often—in Ryder’s direction. With that seemingly endless task accomplished, she dived into paperwork.

They’d made a mistake, obviously, believing they could maintain any sort of relationship with too much passion and too little common ground.

They didn’t think alike; their makeup diverged too sharply.

She couldn’t be involved with someone who didn’t respect her feelings, her needs, her capabilities.

It was best they’d taken a big step back before things became impossibly tangled.

Her work kept her busy and fulfilled enough. And if she finished everything on her list, she could put some time into Lizzy/Billy research that night. As she had the night before, and the night before that as Ryder continued to keep his distance.

Nice trick, she thought, when he worked every day within spitting distance.

She left her office to take delivery from the florist for the rooms booked that day, and happily carried the fresh arrangements upstairs. She came down just as Avery stepped in The Lobby door.

“I knocked first.” Avery pocketed her key.

“I was up in The Penthouse. It’s booked tonight.”

“Swank. Are you all clear now? Have you got a minute?”

“I have several if you need them. Is something up with MacT’s?”

“Not that. It’s still on to open two weeks from Thursday—or we’ll have our friends and family night then. Official opening that Friday.” Avery pressed a hand to her belly. “I feel a little sick when I say that, but not in a bad way. But today’s breaking news? I think I found my wedding dress.”

“Where? When?”

“Online. This morning when I was poking around before coming in.”