Нора Робертс - The Last Boyfriend

“Or he just let her down. Didn’t come. Could’ve been married, not interested.”

She snatched the plate of bread away before he could grab another piece. “That’s not romantic. Stick with romantic, or no more for you.”

“I’m just considering possibilities.” When she continued to hold the bread out of reach, he rolled his eyes. “Okay, they were the Civil War version of Romeo and Juliet. Star-crossed lovers.”

“I don’t like teenage suicide. Think of another.”

“I’m too hungry to think.”

Relenting, she set the plate back down. “Either way, or any way, it doesn’t seem like it helps find Billy.”

“I’m going to see what else I can find out about Lizzy. Stage one.” He broke the bread in two, offered her half. “You could call it Crack Bread. For the sound when you break it, and because it’s addicting.”

“Ha-ha. Maybe Snap Bread. I’m thinking of putting it and breadsticks in a kind of glass tube on each table.”

“We should be able to start the demo next week.”

“Next week? Really? Seriously?”

He loved watching her light right up. “Just the demo, but yeah. I checked on the permit status. I should be able to pick it up tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh boy!” She swung around the counter, jumped in his lap. “Oh boy, oh boy!”

When his mouth was free again, he grinned. “Can’t wait to see what you do when I get the building permit.”

“It may include costumes. Oh boy.”

“What kind of costumes?”

“Owen.” On a sigh, she nuzzled in. “It’s probably going to be crazy for a while. The planning, the prep, the execution. I’m probably going to be crazy for a while.”

“And that’s different from usual how?”

She got a pinch in before she slid off his lap. “I just want you to know it won’t be because I’m avoiding you or pulling back.”

“Okay.” Since she’d opened the door a little, he stepped through. “Did your mother send any contact information to your dad?”

“No.” She lifted her shoulders, let them fall. But she couldn’t shrug it off when he took her hands, held her gaze, just waited her out.

“Okay, I’m not holding my breath, but maybe she’s not settled yet. Or, face up, maybe she’s never going to send anything. He gave her money, and it’s possible that was the bottom line. I don’t know how I feel about it, or her, exactly,” Avery continued. “It’s like thinking Billy wasn’t with Lizzy, on purpose. It’s harsh. There’s enough harsh in the world. I’m going to try a little optimism for a change.”

“Then we’ll go with he’d have been with her if he could.”

“I like that better. If Traci never sends anything, I’m going to have to be okay with it. I don’t know, honestly, why I’d contact her anyway. She’s not a part of my life, and that was her choice.”

“I hate that it hurts you.”

“So do I. It’s hard knowing anyone has that kind of power over my feelings. So, I’m going to get over it. Enough about her.”

Avery waved her hands in the air as if erasing. “Welcome to MacT’s Testing Kitchen. I’m going to be your server, your chef, and your sommelier this evening.”

“All that?”

“And more, after—if you’re lucky.”

“I’m feeling lucky.”

“Tonight we’re presenting seared, pepper-crusted tuna over a bed of field greens and julienne vegetables, finished with a champagne vinaigrette.”

“Luckier and luckier.”

“To start, our hopefully soon-to-be-famous Crab and Artichoke Heart appetizer. All served with our recommendation of a crisp sauvignon blanc.”

“Sign me up.”

“Honest feedback,” she said.

“You can count on me.”

She got out a pan for the tuna, smiled. “I do.”

To make up the time spent on his search for Billy and his evenings with Avery, Owen put himself at Ryder’s disposal. At the rate they were going, he calculated they’d have the bakery ready by June, and the apartments above it ready for tenants.

He’d gathered a little more information on Eliza Ford, but wanted to let it settle in his mind awhile.

As promised, demo began on the pub side of Avery’s new restaurant, and the two projects moved forward as February raced toward March.

As the April wedding drew closer, the brothers—and some of the crew—devoted weekends to Beckett’s house.

On a Sunday afternoon, the sudden rise in temperatures melted the snow cover, and turned the ground into a muddy mess. But inside the house, the floors gleamed around the trails of muddy cardboard as the three brothers stood scanning the nearly finished kitchen.

“It looks good,” Beckett pronounced. “Damn good. Counter guys are coming in tomorrow to start the install, here and in the bathrooms. We may just make it.”

“You’ll make it.” Owen had the schedule, and refused to be daunted.

“If you hadn’t let it sit here, half finished—less,” Ryder pointed out, “we wouldn’t be busting ass now.”

“Live and learn. Anyway, this way Clare gets to put her own stamp on it. It’s ours instead of mine.”

“So speaks the man already prepared to be whipped.”

“So speaks the man marrying the love of his life.” Beckett turned. “Good light, good space. It’ll be great to spread out again. There’s not an inch of room left at Clare’s place. I’m always stepping over a kid or a dog.”

“And you think that’s going to change?” Owen asked.

“No.” Beckett thought about it, and laughed. “I’m okay with that, and looking forward to stepping over kids and dogs right here. Barely a month to go till the wedding.”

“It’s cool they’re using the inn for the bridal shower thing,” Owen commented. “It may be another area of revenue down the road.”

“More important. Bachelor party.” Ryder hooked his thumbs in his tool belt. “We’ve gotta send you off to the great unknown right.”

“I’m working on it,” Owen reminded him.

“Yeah, yeah. Why all the work and fuss? Why can’t we just go to a titty bar? It’s a classic for a reason.”

“Poker, cigars, and whiskey—groom’s choice.”

“No strippers,” Beckett confirmed. “It’s just too weird.”

“Man, you’re breaking my heart.”

“When it’s your turn, we’ll have strippers.”

“I’ll be too old to appreciate them. No plans to walk into the great unknown until I’m eligible for Social Security. On second thought, a man’s never too old to appreciate naked women. Make a note.”

Justine, arms full, used her elbow to tap on the glass atrium door.

Owen opened it, took the big insulated bag, the enormous thermos.

“Oh, look at this! Beckett, it’s wonderful.”

“He didn’t do it alone,” Ryder reminded her.

“All for one,” she murmured. “You’re going to have a beautiful home. You’ve all done so much since I was here a few weeks ago.”

“I’ll give you the full tour.”

“I’ll take it. First, I brought lunch. Minestrone, grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, apple crisp.”

“Best mom ever.” Ryder opened the insulated bag.

“I’ll stick with the soup.” Owen laid a hand on his stomach. “I’ve been eating more since Avery’s using me as a tester, and working out less with Beck’s place on the schedule.”

“Interesting you should mention working out.” Justine took paper plates, bowls, spoons out of her enormous purse. “That’s something I want to talk to you all about.”

She set everything out on the plywood currently covering the base cabinets. “I’ve got cold drinks out in the car.”

“We got you covered.” Beckett opened a cooler.

“Any diet in there?”