Some Like It Hot. Susan Andersen

for sure he’d been to enough dos put on by Jake and Jenny that he likely needed to reciprocate. He simply didn’t have any idea how to go about pulling together anything more complicated than putting out beer and chips. Swallowing his discomfort at the mere thought, however, he said, “Yeah. Maybe.”

      Jake snorted and shot him a fist to the shoulder, along with a knowing smile, as if he could somehow look right into his mind. But before Max could respond—or even decide how he should—his brother turned to look at the house again. “What were you doing when I got here?”

      And just like that, Max’s discomfort disappeared. He loved his place and, unlike a lot of other subjects, could always discuss it without having to dig for conversation. “This is the original stain job,” he said. “Or at least the one that was on the house when I bought it. I’ve been waiting for both a spate of nice weather like we’ve been having and time off to spruce it up. Today I’m washing the shakes and scrubbing out mildew on the north side, getting it ready to restain.”

      “Handy guy. Need a hand?”

      Max laughed and eyeballed Jake’s designer T-shirt and shorts. “Yeah, right. And screw up your GQ look?” He indicated the muck splattering his own chin and neck and shoulders, smeared in the hair on his chest and down his abs and spackling his cutoffs. “Your duds probably cost more than my mortgage payment.”

      “Please.” Jake made a rude noise. “That’s an easy fix.” Reaching over his back, he pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Then he unzipped his shorts and let them drop to the ground, stepping out of them and kicking them toward the discarded shirt. He turned back to Max wearing nothing but a tan, a pair of boxers and his Tevas. “I’m good to go.”

      “Jesus.” Max shook his head. “You must be wicked bored.”

      “Yeah.” Jake gave him a sheepish smile. “Jenny’s at work, and Austin went out on his boat with Nolan and Bailey. I’ve cleaned up all my photo files and have been a fucking Suzie Spotless around my place. I need man work.”

      Max laughed and led his brother around the corner of the house where he showed him how to scour the shakes. Once Jake started attacking the siding, Max went to the garage to scrounge up another scraper.

      With two people working, they finished the north wall in record time. Max found sharing the chore and jawing with his brother a nice change to his usual solitary dig-in-and-just-get-it-done routine. So, after cleaning the brushes and putting them away along with the ladder, he invited Jake into his house to clean up. Then he showed him around, pointing out the improvements he’d made in his spare time over the past couple of years.

      “This is really going to be something when you’re done,” Jake said with clear appreciation as they came back downstairs after viewing the still unfinished bedrooms. “Jenny and I have to start looking for something that’s big enough for the three of us and an office and darkroom. I’m tired of living in separate houses.”

      “I bet. You gave her the ring—you got any concrete plans on tying the knot?”

      Before Jake could answer, the phone rang. Max unearthed his cell from beneath a short stack of Law Officer magazines on the coffee table in the living room and checked the readout. Seeing the caller’s name, he felt his usual combination of enjoyment and tension.

      He looked over at Jake. “I’ve gotta get this. There’s beer in the fridge and some chips in the cupboard above it.”

      When his brother walked into the kitchen, Max hit the talk button. “Hey, Ma. How’s London?”

      “Rainy,” she said, and Max exhaled softly.

      So it was going to be one of those calls. Ignoring the discontentment of her tone, he said cheerfully, “We’ve had a pretty good run of weather here for the past couple weeks. I look at it as our reward for the crappy wet winter.”

      “Well, I suppose we did have a pretty nice spring here,” his mother allowed.

      “There you go. How’s Nigel?” he asked, naming his stepfather.

      “He’s doing great.” Her voice perked up, and Max smiled to himself.

      He’d been shocked to come home after mustering out of the Marines to discover his mother had packed up and moved to London to marry the man. She hadn’t given him so much as a heads-up.

      But Nigel Shevington had turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to Angie Bradshaw. She’d met him while waiting tables at the restaurant in The Brothers Inn. Nigel had proven himself a fast worker, sweeping Angie off her feet and getting her to agree to move halfway across the globe with him practically before she’d even presented him with the check for dinner. Nigel thought she hung the moon, and since meeting him, Angie was probably the happiest she’d ever been.

      Happier than he’d ever seen her, at any rate.

      Old habits were hard to break, however, and sometimes when they talked she fell back into her old churlish ways. He was content to have diverted her now.

      “So what are you doing with yourself in the nice weather?” she asked him. “Are you working today?”

      “No, I have a rare Saturday off. I spent some time scraping the shingles on my house to get it ready to stain and thought I might hit the beach in a bit.”

      “You and that canal,” she said, her voice half indulgent, half exasperated. “Never in my life have I met anyone else so drawn to the beach and the water as you. I’m surprised you didn’t buy yourself a house on the canal.”

      “The sheriff’s department pays a pretty decent salary. But not that decent.”

      “I bet that little shit Jake—”

      “Ma,” he said with flat-toned warning.

      “All right, all right.” She was silent for a heartbeat, then asked, “So, what color are you going to paint your place?”

      “I haven’t quite made up my mind yet. I thought I’d ask—” Shit. Jake, he’d almost said, because his brother had a much more artistic eye than he did. And wouldn’t that go over like a fart in church? “—a friend I know who’s good with that sorta thing.”