The Next Always by Nora Roberts Page A

hugely. “Thanks for the quarters and the pizza and stuff.”
    “I’ll take you down in Space Crusader next time around, shortie,” Ryder told him, and Liam brightened with the challenge.
    “No way! I’m taking you down.”
    “Come on, troops.” Avery pushed to her feet. “I’ll walk out with you.”
    After a chorus of ’byes and thanks, and some foot dragging, Clare wrangled the boys to the stairwell door.
    When the noise level dropped, Owen reached for his briefcase, where he’d stashed the files again.
    “Hold on,” Ryder told him. “Let’s take this up to Beck’s. God knows who else might drop by and challenge us to a few rounds of Monster Bash.”
    “Good idea.” Owen rose, pointed at Beckett. “Go pay the tab.”
    “Hey.”
    “I called it first. We’ll meet you up there.”
    By the time he made it up, his brothers—both had keys—had raided his kitchen for beer and chips before making themselves comfortable in his living room.
    D.A. lounged on the floor enjoying leftover pizza.
    Ryder sent Beckett a slow smile. “So, you’re hitting on Clare the Fair.”
    “I’m not hitting on her. I’m exploring the possibility of seeing her on social terms.”
    “He’s hitting on her,” Owen said around a mouthful of chips. “You’ve still got that thing you had for her back in high school. Are you still writing bad song lyrics about heartbreak?”
    “Suck me. And they weren’t that bad.”
    “Yeah, they were,” Ryder disagreed. “But at least now we don’t have to listen to you playing your keyboard and howling them out down the hall. You have noticed she comes with three additions.”
    “It’s come to my attention. So what?”
    “Just checking. I like them. They’re not brats or robots.”
    Beckett dropped down in a chair, picked up the beer his brothers had set out for him. “I’m taking her out next week. I figure dinner and maybe a movie.”
    “Old school,” was Ryder’s opinion. “Predictable.”
    “Maybe, but I think old school and predictable may be what’s called for. I get the feeling she hasn’t dated much since she came back to Boonsboro.”
    “Ask Avery. They’re tight as spandex.”
    Beckett gave Owen a considering nod. “Maybe I will.”
    “I’d skip the movie and just go for dinner, the kind of place where they’re not looking to turn your table in an hour. More face time.”
    “Might be better,” Beckett agreed.
    “Now that we’ve helped launch Beck’s love life, can we get down to it?”
    In response to Ryder, Owen pulled out the files on Hope again. “You can check her out whenever, get a little background before we meet with her. If she lives up to the hype, she’d be a real asset. Next deal.” He tossed out brochures. “We have to settle on the gas logs for Reception, and the gas fireplaces for J&R, W&B and The Library. Thompson’s is going to come in, take another look, and we’ll talk about where to bury the tank, how to run the lines. That’s set for Monday. We’re going to meet about The Courtyard—the pavers, the design, and how to deal with accessing the tank, the fencing, the plantings, the whole shot. That’s for Tuesday.”
    “I’ve been working on that some,” Beckett said.
    “Which is why you need to be there. Tuesday, four o’clock. Mom and Carolee are in on that, too.”
    “We’ve got to deal with some practicalities,” Ryder put in. “Like how we’re going to set all the HVAC units, and getting them in, set, inspected, and passed before cold weather sets in.”
    “Yeah, we do. And that’s why you need to meet with Mike at Care Services next week. We’ve got down-the-line details to start. And I’ll be meeting with Luther about the railings. But we have to settle on the design and the finish. Then there’s the design for the entrance doors,” Owen continued.
    They divvied up work areas, merged some. Then got into a long, protracted argument over mechanics, which required shifting to Beckett’s office and