“It’s just stupid, especially since we both had our phones. I wanted to call Owen or Beckett, or the fire department.”

“Which is sensible, and a girl thing—and a last resort, probably when starvation threatened, for a guy.”

“Well, it’s just stupid,” Hope repeated. “Anyway, I’d just had it, and I gave him a piece of my mind.”

“Now it’s getting good.” Avery rubbed her hands together.

“He’s rude and surly, never uses my actual name. He treats me like I’m a pain in his ass, and I’m not.”

“Of course you’re not,” Clare soothed.

“I do my job and keep out of his way. And what do I get? A curled lip and insults, when he bothers to acknowledge I exist.”

“Maybe he’s got a thing for you,” Avery suggested. “So he gives you grief or ignores you.”

“Oh.” Hope sat back, nodded. “That could be it. If we were eight. I said he was snotty, which he is—to me. And he said I was snooty. I am not snooty.”

“You’re anything but. But . . .”

Hope narrowed her eyes at Clare. “But?”

“I think some people, wrongly, assume really beautiful women are. Snooty.”

“That’s snotty and snobby. But thanks. Oh! And he snarked on my shoes.”

“Dangerous territory,” Avery murmured.

“It sounds like you needed to clear the air,” Clare began.

“Well, we didn’t clear it, unless you equate that with both of us knowing just where we stand.”

“How did you get out?” Avery wondered.

“That’s the rest.” Hope pointed a finger. “I thought of just what you said before. How she pulled this on you and Owen. So I said he should kiss me, and he got snotty about that. I mean, honestly, what’s the big deal? He did it before and managed to survive, so—”

“Wait a minute, wait.” Avery twirled her fingers in the air. “Rewind. Ryder kissed you?”

“It was nothing.”

“We’ll be the judge of that. When did this happen?”

“It was just a . . . nothing. New Year’s Eve. We happened to run into each other in Owen’s kitchen right at the countdown. It was awkward, and I guess we both felt it would be more awkward if we didn’t. So we did. It was nothing.”

“You keep saying it was nothing.” Clare considered. “Which makes it sound like something. Especially since you didn’t tell us before.”

“Because it was no—” Hope caught herself. “It didn’t matter. I forgot about it. My point is, it was just a device, like New Year’s Eve. We’re dealing with a romantically inclined ghost, which sounds enormously silly, but it is what it is. So we did, and the door opened. Then the bell rang, I had guests arriving. I went down, he went out.”

“I must repeat. Rewind. You kissed Ryder, again.”