“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.