They used a back corner, what would eventually be the circuit-training area, to bargain over the plans. Ryder always wanted changes, Beckett knew, just as Ryder knew Beckett only held the line against them if they messed with the vision or didn't make architectural sense.

"I'm making Mom a list," Beckett began. "Number of lights, types, areas. She knows the look she wants."

"Don't let her order until you check the wattage."

"It's not my first rodeo, Ry." He pulled out his phone as it signaled. "Owen's in The Courtyard with food."

"What's he doing over there?"

"You want to eat, let's find out."

He did want to eat, and he'd be within sight if the steel arrived. And since the plans were burned in his brain, he didn't need the blueprints to bug Beckett about them.

"About the bamboo floors," he began as they started out.

"Mom's set on bamboo; so am I for that matter. Don't even go there."

"It would save time and money, and look fine if we ran the padded gym flooring throughout."

"It'd look boring and pedestrian. Bamboo's got a nice give to it for the cla.s.sroom, the interior steps and hallways."

"The steps are going to be a pain in my a.s.s if we use wood."

"Not budging on it," Beckett told him. "And you can bet your a.s.s, pain or not, Mom's not either."

They stepped into The Courtyard where Owen sat under a cheerful umbrella with three take-out containers and a stack of papers.

"Hope caught me as I was going by and said to eat out here. Nice."

"What'd I get?" Ryder flipped back the lid of the container, nodded at the panini and fries. "That works."

"I've been going over the paint system for the exterior of the fitness center. It's a lot of steps, a big process, to get those cinder blocks looking like anything but cinder blocks."

"Don't you start," Beckett warned, and grabbed his own panini. "No way we're just slapping on some paint and calling it a day. It'll still be ugly."

"It's already less ugly," Ryder pointed out. "But I'm on your side of this one."

"Who said I'm not?" Owen stretched out his legs, circled his tired neck. "I'm saying we could do it, but we should go ahead and hire a sub who knows how to do it. It'd take us too long, and there's too much room for screwups."

Before Ryder could argue about that, Hope came out with a tray. A big pitcher, gla.s.ses, and a plate of cookies.

"Iced tea," she announced. "And there's more where that came from. I swear, the calendar turned over to July, and the furnace revved up. They're calling for triple digits by Sunday."

"Thanks. You didn't have to bother," Owen told her. "Avery said you're slammed this weekend."

"Boy, are we. All the guests are off doing something right now, so I've got a minute. There's a lot of interest in the fitness center and the new restaurant. Everybody wants opening dates."

"Everybody's going to have to wait," Ryder muttered.

"I'm telling them to watch Facebook and the web pages. Let me know if you want anything else."

Ryder downed half a gla.s.s of tea when she went inside. "Be right back," he said, and followed her.

"Does he know he's hooked?" Owen wondered.

"Ry? h.e.l.l no."

"That was a rhetorical question. Mid-August for MacT's," Owen added with his mouth full. "It's moving good, and I know how Ry is about deadlines, but it's not going to be a problem. I figure it'll take about the same time for him to realize he's hooked."

Hope started to turn into her office when she heard the door open and close. Walking back toward the kitchen, she smiled as she saw Ryder.

"I told Owen you could eat inside where it's cool. If you want I can-"

He grabbed-he always seemed to be grabbing her as if she might get away. And the kiss was hot as July.

"Just wanted to get that done," he told her. "Now, I won't be so distracted."

"Funny, it works just the opposite on me."

"Well, everybody's out, so-"

"No." She laughed, nudged him back. "Appealing, but no. I'm swamped."

"Carolee-"

"Is getting a root ca.n.a.l."

His wince was knee-jerk and heartfelt. "I didn't hear about that."

"She just went in this morning because I nagged her. She was going to pump Advil and tough it out until Monday. Laurie from the bookstore's going to come over and give me a hand later."

"You need any help until? I can spare Beck."

"No, I should be fine."

He had an idea now just what went into her day-and a weekend with sixteen guests meant that day would be jam-packed. "You could probably use a vacation, a long weekend. Something."

"I think I'll have a couple days clear in September. I intend to be a sloth."

"Block it out. Mom would be okay with it."

"I'll think about that." She gestured back as her office phone rang. "But we're a popular place."

"Block it out," he repeated, and left her to work.

Ryder dropped back into his chair, picked up his sandwich. "Carolee's getting a root ca.n.a.l, and we're overworking the innkeeper."

"You can call her Hope," Owen pointed out. "You're sleeping with her."