“Kiss ass. Avery found it, showed me. So, he dumps her for the blonde, has his big, splashy society wedding, then he comes up here to our place and tries to poach our innkeeper? Makes you want to kick his ass and mess up his five-thousand-dollar suit.”

“He added a perk. She’d hook back up with him and he’d set her up.”

Owen sat up now. “What the fuck did you say?”

“You heard me. He’d set her up as his side piece. Buy her a house, toss in some spending money and a trip to Paris or some shit.”

“And yet he lives,” Beckett murmured. “Why didn’t you beat the shit out of him?”

“Because I didn’t know about it until he’d left. Besides, she handled it, handled him. She was telling him to stick it when I walked by. And check this.” He dug for more chips. “She sashays right up, tells me to go with it, and plants a long, steamy one on me.”

“I didn’t hear about that.” Owen looked from one brother to the other. “Why didn’t I hear about that? I hear about everything.”

“It was just yesterday, and we’ve been busy since. Word’s probably inching along the grapevine now, which I figure she didn’t think about at the time.”

“You went with it?” Beckett asked.

“Sure. Why not? I got the picture, and I didn’t like the look of him. Or his suit. I figured she just wanted to give him the business, make him jealous. No skin off mine. Then after he left . . . She was shaking.”

“Goddamn it,” Beckett muttered.

“Most of it was mad. She was plenty mad. Insulted. But she was shaken up, too.”

Owen pulled out his phone. “Did you see his car?”

“This year’s Mercedes C63 sedan, black.” Ryder rattled off the license plate. “I don’t think he’ll be back—she hit him where it hurts—but it doesn’t hurt to keep an eye out.”

“Exactly. Son of a bitch just got married and he’s trying to make Hope his . . . He did her a favor when he dumped her.”

“Yeah, she seems to get that.”

Beckett shot out a finger. “She made you the pie.”

Ryder grinned. “Good pie. She wanted to even the score, I guess. So I took it, then I put a move back on her. I like to be ahead in the game.”

“You kissed her again?” Owen demanded.

“The other times she started it. I was starting to feel cheap and used.”

When Beckett laughed, Owen punched his arm. “Hey.”

“It may not be funny. Are you starting a thing with Hope?”

Ryder took a lazy slug of beer. “That would come under the heading of none of your damn business.”

“She’s the innkeeper.”

“Avery’s a tenant. It didn’t stop you.”

“Yeah, but . . .” While Owen tried to work that out, Ryder shrugged.