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her as much as the fact that her headache had disappeared.

      Betsy glanced down at her wrinkled clothes. She thought about leaving them on. After all, she could change into something more comfortable after she kicked Ryan, and whoever it was he was talking with, out of her apartment.

      But her closet doors were open and comfy clothes beckoned. She slipped on a pair of yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt advertising a Kansas City 5K fun run.

      Even though dressing nice usually gave her some measure of confidence, right now comfort mattered more. She stuck on a pair of bunny slippers that Adrianna had once given her as a gag gift and ambled into the kitchen.

      Mr. Marstand looked up and smiled. He sat at the table with Ryan, an almost-empty plate of Stroganoff and a glass of wine before him. Ryan must have already eaten because he’d pushed his chair back and held Puffy in his lap.

      When the dog saw Betsy, Puffy jumped down and ran to greet her. Betsy leaned over and patted her soft fur, her heart warmed by the welcome.

      “Ryan said you were a bit under the weather.” Concern filled Mr. Marstand’s eyes. “Are you feeling better?”

      Betsy nodded and dropped into a chair at the table. “I’m not sure if it was the nap or the ibuprofen-cola mix that made the difference, but my headache is gone.”

      “Good news.” Ryan rose to his feet and squeezed her shoulder as he walked past. “We saved you some dinner. And a glass of wine.”

      “Ryan wanted to drink it all, but I told him because it was your place, a gentleman should save you at least one glass.” The old man laughed as if he’d said something uproariously funny.

      Betsy glanced at Ryan and they shared a smile before she realized that she shouldn’t be sharing anything with him. Not a smile. Certainly not dinner. But how could she kick him out now? Not when he’d gone to all the trouble of making her a fine meal. And not with Mr. Marstand watching her every move.

      “I am hungry,” she said. “And wine sounds lovely.”

      In a matter of seconds the plate of food that had been warming in the oven was on the table and a glass of wine was sitting before her.

      Betsy had just taken her first bite when Mr. Marstand squinted behind his spectacles. “Have you been crying?”

      Betsy started to choke on the Stroganoff but quickly washed it down with a sip of wine. “I have a little headache, that’s all.”

      Neither the older man nor the younger one looked convinced, but neither pursued the topic further. Instead they talked about the weather, the upcoming bowl games and Puffy’s penchant for Greenies. Then silence descended over the table.

      Oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, Mr. Marstand broke the silence first. “I hear you finally got the furnace installed in your aunt’s house.”

      Betsy looked up from the absolutely delicious Stroganoff in surprise. “Where’d you hear that?”

      “Well, actually we saw the billing statement on your counter.” Ryan had the grace to look slightly abashed.

      Mr. Marstand waved a hand. “It was sitting right there in plain sight.”

      Betsy didn’t care. It wasn’t as if the furnace was a big secret. “Yes, it’s been installed. And the city inspector has been out and removed the red tag from the house. I’m going over there tomorrow to start cleaning.”

      “Don’t you have to work?” Mr. Marstand asked.

      Betsy shook her head, hoping Ryan hadn’t said anything about her quitting. Even though her elderly neighbor liked to present a tough-as-nails image, if he knew she was unemployed, he’d worry.

      Thankfully Ryan simply took another sip of his wine.

      “What kind of cleaning will you be doing?” The old man sounded surprisingly interested.

      “Aunt Agatha was something of a pack rat, so I had a Dumpster delivered today. I’m going to get there early tomorrow and start tossing things. Until I get all the junk out of there, it will be hard to clean.”

      And impossible to sell, she thought with a sigh.

      At one time Betsy had envisioned her and Ryan working together to renovate the house. Even though the place was a mess right now, it had potential. In fact, since she and Ryan had become involved, each time Betsy had thought about the house, she’d pictured the two of them sitting together before the fireplace, eating breakfast in the little nook off the kitchen and making love in the large master bedroom.

      Now she’d be getting the house ready to sell. Another couple or family would be the ones building memories in the home, not she and Ryan.

      “Tomorrow? Well, this is your lucky day, missy,” Mr. Marstand said. “I usually go to bingo on Tuesdays, but it got cancelled. Which means I’m available. What time do you want to start? I can be ready by six. Is that too late?”

      Six? Was he kidding? “Er, I was thinking of starting around nine.”

      “That’ll work.” The older man shifted his gaze to Ryan. “What about you, son? Will that time work for you?”

      Betsy tightened her hand around her wineglass. Nonono. This situation was rapidly getting out of control.

      “I don’t have any appointments tomorrow, so I’m available.” Ryan kept his gaze focused on Mr. Marstand. “I’ll have my truck if we need to haul any cleaning supplies, ladders, stuff like that.”

      “Good thinking.” The older man nodded his approval before pushing back his chair and standing. “I hate to eat and run, but my favorite show will be on the tube in five minutes.”

      “I’ll walk you out.” Ryan stood. “I’ve got a few things I need to do yet this evening, too.”

      Mr. Marstand cocked his head. “Don’t you want to stay and keep Betsy company while she eats?”

      “I’d love to, but I have an, er, an appointment.” Ryan edged toward the door.

      “Ryan, honey,” Betsy said in a sugary sweet tone. “Please stay. There are a couple things we need to discuss.”

      She needed to make it clear that while she appreciated his efforts tonight, this was not happening again. He was out of her life. It might not make sense now, but one day he would thank her for it.

      “Sorry, can’t.” His hand curved around the doorknob. “My, er, my mom is expecting me.”

      “In that case you have to go,” Mr. Marstand said before Betsy could say a word. “A man can’t keep his mother waiting. Isn’t that right, Betsy?”

      Betsy tried to meet Ryan’s eyes, to say in a glance what she couldn’t say with Mr. Marstand standing there hanging on to every word. But Ryan looked everywhere except at her.

      “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He opened the door and stepped aside to allow Mr. Marstand to pass, reaching out to steady the older man when he started to wobble.

      Betsy rushed toward the door. The fact that he was out of her life had to be made clear before he got out of her sight.

      “Ryan,” she called out, her slippers’ bunny ears flopping up and down with each step, “I want you—”

      He reached out a hand and pulled her to him, his lips closing over hers. Her head told her not to respond. Her body had different ideas. By the time he broke off the kiss, she was swaying and her thoughts were a tangled mess.

      Her head was still spinning when he headed down the steps. When he reached the bottom he turned and smiled. “I want you, too, sweetheart.”

      No, she wanted to call out, I want you out of my life. But she remained mute as he jumped into his truck and drove away.

      She wanted him. That hadn’t changed. But getting him out of her life? She touched her