Jake raised skeptical brows. “Get real. You and I both know you’re too much of a hard-ass pragmatist—never mind that law-and-order thing you’re so wedded to—to ever choose such a permanent solution to a temporary problem.” He shot Max a cheerful smile. “And look on the bright side, bro—you can only improve.”
“Hell, yeah,” Max said sarcastically, heading for the door. “How can I not, with faithful encouragement like that to prop me up? Get to work. I’ve got stuff to do, too—I can’t hang around here all day. I’ll see you at Jenny’s at seven.”
But as he loped down the staircase to the first floor, he thought, From your lips to God’s ear. Because improvement couldn’t come quickly enough to suit him. He let himself out the front door of The Sand Dollar, allowing the screen door to bang shut behind him. Not nearly quickly enough.
For he was sure as hell tired of acting more tongue-tied than a horny thirteen-year-old with his first crush every time he stumbled across Harper Summerville.
CHAPTER TWO
MAX SLAMMED HIS car door and hotfooted it across the little parking lot to the back of Jenny’s cottage. He took the stubby flight of stairs up to her mudroom in two big steps.
He hadn’t deliberately been late for her dinner party. After leaving Jake’s he’d gone out to Cedar Village, the group home for at-risk boys a few miles out of town. And he’d ended up staying longer than he’d planned.
Which was hardly a surprise, considering it was the same thing he did every time he went out there. At one time he’d been an angry teen himself. He knew what it was to get into his share of trouble, knew about having anger he didn’t quite know how to manage. So he liked volunteering some of his free time to work with the kids. He understood where they were coming from.
But he’d let the time get away from him. The boys had roped him into a vigorous game of basketball, and the demand that he join them had been the first sign of softening he’d seen from a couple of the kids. If he’d blown off the opening they’d given him, he would’ve risked having them never give him another. That hadn’t been an option.
He was already running late when he’d finally pulled himself away, but he’d had no choice but to go home for a quick shower and a change. Jenny, bless her heart, threw reasonably casual parties, but he was pretty sure she’d expect him to at least shave and throw on something a bit less scruffy than his day-off knock-around clothes. Especially when Jake, the love of her life, was one of those GQ-type dressers. And he didn’t even want to think about what she’d have to say if he showed up smelling as ripe as only a guy who’d pounded up and down a court with boys who could run him into the ground could.
He smoothed his hand down the navy T-shirt he’d tucked tightly into his low-slung jeans to get the drawer wrinkles out. Straightened the button placket of the loose weave, sage-green short-sleeved shirt he’d worn open over it to dress things up a little. Shifting the six-pack of Fat Tire beer that Jake preferred to the Budweiser Max would have chosen were it just for him, he rapped on the mudroom door.
It whipped open, and the sound of dishes clattering and women laughing in the kitchen poured out at him. He looked down into the face of his nephew, Austin.
“Dude!” The fourteen-year-old, who was at that all shoulders, arms and legs stage, grinned at him. “Thank God—we need more guys here. Jenny invited way more chicks.”
“Oh, way more, my butt.” Jenny stuck her head into the room, her shiny brown hair catching the overhead light. “I invited a couple of women from work who didn’t have plans. Hey, Max.” She crossed the small space at the same time he stepped into the mudroom.
Having learned her ways, he obligingly bent so she could give him a hug. That was something new to him, and he always stood stiff as an oar in her embrace. Considering she kept doing it every time he arrived or left, however, Jenny apparently didn’t mind.
And he had to admit, there was something nice about it—even if it did make him feel awkward as a working girl at a revival.
Jenny was a tiny woman who somehow failed to realize it, and she gave him a quick, fierce squeeze before stepping back. “The men are out on the front porch doing the barbecue thing,” she said, patting his arm. “Why don’t you take your beer out there—we put a cooler with ice and soft drinks to the right of the door.”
She turned to Austin. “What are you doing this close to the kitchen if you’re so uncomfortable with all the women?”
The kid puffed up. “I’m not uncomfortable,” he protested. “I’m just saying there’s a bunch of ’em, and we guys are outnumbered. I only came out here ’cuz I’m lookin’ for the croquet set. Dad said maybe we could play a game after dinner.”
“Color me corrected.” Reaching up, she ruffled his dark hair. “Set’s in the shed.”
Austin grinned at her and loped out the door.
Not all that certain he was ready to face a kitchen full of females himself, Max took a step back. “Well, I’ll just head for the porch. Nice day, huh?”
She flashed him a smile he was pretty sure said, Yeah, right, like you’re fooling anyone. But she truly was the nice woman he’d always considered her, because she simply rubbed his arm again and said, “You bet.”
Jenny’s best friend poked her strawberry-blond head in the room. “Jen, where can I find— Oh, hi, Max.”
“Hey, Tasha. How’s it going?”
“Pretty darn good.” She eyed him where he stood with one foot in the door and the other out on the stoop. “You coming in?”
“I was just gonna duck around to the front and say hi to the guys.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Intimidated by the number of women in the kitchen, huh?”
“Completely—and that’s without even knowing exactly how many that is.” He got a sudden vision of how ludicrous he was being and smiled.
Tasha blinked. “Whoa,” she said. “You really oughtta do that more often.”
“What?”
“Smile,” Jenny filled in for her friend. “You’ve got a great one, but you hardly ever use it.”
“That’s because I save ’em up for the prettiest girls,” he said with rare flirtatiousness. “Annnd I really am going to the front now.”
He heard them laugh as he strode down the stairs.
Climbing the front porch stairs a moment later, he spotted Jake and Mark, Austin’s best bud’s dad. “Whoa. This is it? Austin wasn’t kidding when he said we were seriously outnumbered by chicks.”
“Wendy Chapman brought her new boyfriend,” Mark said, then shrugged. “But he’s in that shit-faced-in-new-love stage, so he’s hanging with the women in the kitchen.”
They all shook their heads at the mystery of that.
Jake looked at the six-pack in Max’s fist and laughed. “Hey, you brought the good stuff. There’s some Bud in the cooler for you.”
Refusing to acknowledge the blanket of warmth his half brother’s thoughtfulness wrapped around his heart, Max made room in the cooler for the Fat Tire bottles, then fished out a Budweiser. He drank the beer, stuck his two cents in on how best to barbecue the steaks—because, really, what guy could keep his opinions to himself when fire, sharp utensils and red meat were involved?—and jawed with Jake and Mark.
He set up a long table when Jenny asked for a volunteer and Jake refused to relinquish the barbecue fork—then