That Thing Called Love. Susan Andersen

      It only drummed harder when she saw Jake’s uptown SUV parked in the lot they shared with the most luxurious cottage on The Brothers’ grounds. Then she spied the man himself packing a big cardboard box up onto the covered front porch and through the open doorway into the dwelling.

      The next thing she knew, Austin was charging out the back door. “Great,” she whispered and, tossing the tea towel aside, drew a couple of calming breaths before heading for the cottage across the way.

      She climbed its three porch stairs in time to hear the anger infusing the teen’s every word as he yelled, “What are you doing here?” Walking into the Sand Dollar living room, she found him standing nose to nose with his father amid a plethora of boxes.

      Found Jake placing his fingertips against his son’s chest and stepping back to put some space between them. Austin swiped them away with more force than was warranted, but the older man didn’t respond to his aggression. He merely glanced over at her, then directed his attention right back on the boy, his voice quiet when he replied equably, “Moving in.”

      “Dude, I can see that! Why this cottage?”

      “Because it’s the largest one available and I’m going to be here for a while. I need space to work—I left Indonesia in a hurry, and I’ve got close to a thousand photographs I need to download and go through so I can winnow out the best hundred. And whether I develop them or keep them digital, they’ll all need cleaning up before they’re ready for the National Explorer’s July issue.”

      Austin snorted, but to Jenny’s relief, the explanation seemed to defuse some of his anger. “Big deal, how long can that take? You’ve got two friggin’ months.”

      “No, I’ve got a hair over two weeks. They’re due the first week of May so the editors can select the ones they need for the edition. The exact number will change a dozen times while the layout’s being put together.” He stabbed a finger toward the ceiling. “There’s a little bathroom upstairs that I can use as a darkroom. I do less developing these days, but it’ll be handy for the ones that I do. And with the addition of some portable tables, the bedroom up there can be converted into a work space.”

      “Whatever,” the boy said. “As long as you stay out of my way.”

      “Yeah, well, about that.” Jake looked his son straight in the eye. “Not gonna happen.”

      “Say what?” Austin started to bristle again.

      Jake was contrastingly calm. “Like it or not, Austin, I’m your father.”

      “I don’t like it!”

      “Yet it doesn’t change the facts, any more than your displeasure would affect our green eyes or your ability as a shortstop, which you got from both me and your uncle Max.”

      “Who?”

      “Deputy Bradshaw.” Looking at the confusion on the teen’s face, Jake frowned. “Annnd...crap. You didn’t know he’s my half brother.”