Ross leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. Damn. He'd messed up big time. Elizabeth probably would come swooping down, ready to do battle. And he'd encouraged her.
He didn't want anyone to get hurt, but Susan already had been. His uncle, too, maybe. Elizabeth would heal George's wounds. But who would heal Susan's?
The sound of a toilet flushing made Ross turn. Garrett Hart stepped into the kitchen, his blue eyes on Ross as he entered.
"You heard?" Ross asked.
"It's none of my business," Garrett answered, opening the refrigerator. "But, yeah, I heard."
"I didn't want to hurt her. I did what I thought was best."
The tall man took out a tub of potato salad and a bottle of barbecue sauce. He shut the fridge, and then walked past Ross to the back door. "My wife once told me I was self-righteous jerk."
Ross raised an eyebrow. "And you're still married?"
