Нора Робертс - The Last Boyfriend

“Same thing,” he complained.

But he threw an arm around Owen’s shoulders, the other around Beckett’s. “Son of a bitch. We did it.”

Justine’s eyes filled, spilled over. “My boys,” she murmured. She spread her arms wide to embrace all three of her sons. She held tight there a moment, just held as Dumbass tried to nose into the hug.

“All right.” Stepping back, she nodded as she brushed tears away. “Lunch, here. On me. Beckett, see if Clare can come over. Owen, call Avery, order us up some food, have her bring it over—and join us if she can. Hope, break out one—no two—of the bottles of champagne we’re stocking for guests.”

“Oh, you bet.”

“I haven’t washed all the glassware!” Carolee made a dash for the kitchen.

“Champagne?” Ryder commented. “At lunch?”

“Damn right, champagne.”

“Speaking of champagne, sort of.” Owen scratched his jaw. “Ry, do you have a date for New Year’s Eve?”

“Yeah. The Giggler. But I’m going to bail.”

“On New Year’s Eve?” his mother demanded.

“Believe me, if you heard the giggle, you’d understand. Why?” he asked Owen. “You want to take me dancing?”

“I’m having a party.”

“ This New Year’s?” his mother said, eyes wide.

“Yeah, yeah, this one.” Jeez! “It’s no big deal. Just a party. A holiday get-together. A thing with food and drink. You can come, right?”

Puffing out her cheeks, Justine continued to study him. “Sure.”

“Ry?”

“Why not?”

“Clare’s on her way up,” Beckett announced as he pocketed his phone.

“New Year’s Eve party, my place. Okay?”

“What year?” Beckett asked.

“Okay, that joke’s old now. You in or not?”

“We were going to stay home. The boys want to watch the ball drop, but Murphy’s the only one with a prayer of making it. I’ll ask Clare if she wants to get a sitter.”

“Good enough.” Owen pulled out his notebook. “Lunch,” he said, and D.A. thumped his tail in anticipation. “Give me the orders. I’ll call them in.”

As he started the list, he heard champagne pop from the kitchen. “That makes it official.” He grinned at his family. “Welcome to Inn BoonsBoro.”

As Hope trusted her—and would likely change things around anyway—Avery organized her friend’s new kitchen. She liked the tidy, efficient space, and everything new, new, new.

“How much fun is this?” Still in her work jeans and Vesta tee, Avery happily arranged flatware in Hope’s drawer organizer. “Clare’s missing out.”

“You’ll have this with kids,” Hope called out from the bath as she put away makeup.

“Yeah, you will. Ever think about having them?”

“Sure. One day. Do you?”

“Sure. Especially when I’m around Clare’s boys for a while. They’re seriously addicting.” She shut the drawer, started on the next. “But having them is most traditionally preceded by marriage—and that’s the sticker.”

“You’ve got too wide a romantic streak to really think of marriage as a sticker.”

“It’s easy to be romantic for other people—it’s no risk, no fail—personally. Anyway, you’re starting a whole new adventure—and this is your first night. You’re not nervous about staying here alone, are you?”

“No.” Hope poked her head out. “But I thought you might like to stay. Pick a room.”

“Hot damn!” Hands fisted around forks and spoons pumped jubilantly in the air. “I thought you’d never ask. Are you sure it’s okay?”

“More than. Justine asked if I’d use each room over the next couple weeks. That way I can check for any glitches with plumbing, electric, even just the flow of the rooms. And I’d actually like to stay in my apartment here tonight—first night. So you can be my first guest.”

“T&O. I’d be the first to sink to my ears in that big copper tub. No, wait. J&R. I’d have the fireplace and a copper tub. Or . . .”

Laughing, Hope came out. “It’s a problem, isn’t it?”

“A really good one. Maybe I should pick one out of a hat. Couldn’t go wrong. Has Owen picked his room for opening night?”

“He’s in Nick and Nora.”

“Okay, I’ll take that out of the hat since I’ll probably be sleeping with him by then, and get my chance at that room opening night.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. We’re taking a few days to make sure it’s not just crazy.” After closing the next drawer, she turned. “It doesn’t feel crazy.”

“Why would it? He’s a great guy, gorgeous, smart, sweet. The two of you have a nice rhythm.”

“That’s part of the ‘is this crazy.’ We do have a nice rhythm. Sex changes the beat.”

“I think both of you will adjust very well.”

“I hope so, and along those lines I have to ask you for a big favor. See, last night he lent me some Scotch tape, and one thing led to another.”

Now Hope fisted hands on her hips. “You’ve already slept with him, and you’re just getting around to telling me?”

“No. Almost, but no. But while we were deciding to wait a few days, I asked him if he had a date for New Year’s Eve. Mostly I wanted to know if he was seeing—okay, sleeping—with anybody else.”

“Reasonable.”

“I should’ve just asked him, but I caged around it, and he asked me if I had one, and I told him you and I were going to hang out.”

“Avery, if you want to go out with Owen on a major date night, I’m fine with it. Absolutely, one hundred percent. You should know that.”

“I do, just like you should know I’d hate myself if I ditched you. You wouldn’t do it to me.”

“I might if Owen asked me out.” Hope fluttered her eyelashes.

“Get your own Montgomery boy. There’s one left.”

“Maybe I could just borrow Owen. Test him out for you.”

“Aw, you’re such a good friend.” Miming wiping a tear aside, she gave Hope a hug. “No. Anyway, Owen popped up with this idea of having a party at his place, which is very un-Owenish as he can’t plan and plot it out for weeks, preferably months. So we’re all going to ring in the new at Owen’s.”

Thoughtful, Hope opened cupboards to check Avery’s kitchen organization. “Avery, I don’t have a date. I don’t want a date, but not having a date on New Year’s at a party is just embarrassing.”

“Not when you look like you do. Besides, not everybody’s going to be coupled. I could practically recite Owen’s most likely guest list, so I can guarantee other singles of both varieties. He throws a really good party when he throws one. You’ll meet more people,” Avery wheedled. “And that’s good community relations for an innkeeper.”

Hope turned the handle of a cup a fraction to the left. “Now you’re digging.”

“Yeah, but it’s still true. Clare and Beck are getting a sitter, I checked with her. And they can bring you home. Unless you get wild and crazy and hook up.”

“I won’t be wild and crazy, that’s a promise.” Hope blew out a breath. “But I probably shouldn’t decline an invitation from one of the bosses, at least this early on.”

“You’ll have fun. I promise.” Delighted, Avery threw her arms around Hope. “Thanks.”

With her arm still around Hope’s shoulders, she turned, scanned the living room. “It was really nice of Ryder to bring your tree over.”

“He griped about the decorations.”

“But he bagged it up, brought it over, set it up here.”

“Okay, it was nice of him, even though Justine probably told him to do it.”

“Either way, you’ve got your Christmas tree in your new apartment. It already looks like you in here. It looks like Hope. Are you happy?”