“Budweiser?” Jake asked, turning his attention back to Max as the girl headed to the bar. “Seriously?”
Max rolled his muscular shoulders. “It’s a good American beer. And it doesn’t have a stupid name. Hell, I could’ve given you a fat lip for free.”
“And have, on more than one occasion. But it’s Fat Tire, philistine. I’m guessing you don’t get out of this burg very often.”
“Why would I want to? I’ve got everything I need right here.”
Jake shuddered. If he had to stay in Razor Bay a second longer than it took to make Austin trust him, he’d open a vein.
The waitress was back with their beer almost before their exchange ended, and he dug his wallet out of his hip pocket, paid for the order and dropped a hefty tip on her tray.
Max studied him. “It’s easy to tell you live in a big city.”
“Why? Because I tip?”
His half brother scowled. “I tip. Maybe not fivers for a four-dollar bottle of beer, but I tip. But I was talking about that metrosexual thing you’ve got going.”
“The hell you say!” He might like the amenities of a big city but, he’d never had a manicure or facial in his life.
“I do say.” Max gave him a feral grin. “You’re a pretty boy.”
“I’m ruggedly handsome.” He bounced a fist off his chest. “A manly man.” Then he shrugged. “Still, you’re right about the big city. I own a loft in Soho.”
“We talking New York City?” Max grimaced, then unknowingly echoed his own sentiments. “Christ. I’d open a vein if I had to live there.”
“How do you know? Have you ever been?”
“Nope. I’ve never had my balls waxed either, but I can tell you without a doubt that I wouldn’t like it.”
Unable to help himself, Jake laughed even as he hunched in a little over his own cajones. “Yeah, because the two things have so much in common. You ever been anywhere, Max?”
“Sure.” He hitched a shoulder. “California. North Carolina. Afghanistan. Iraq.”
“Of course. What else would a law-and-order type do but join the—what?” A laugh escaped him. “No, wait, this is a no-brainer. You couldn’t be anything but a jarhead. Or I suppose one of those Navy SEALS or Green Beret dudes.”
“Please. Like I’d join either of those pussy branches of the service. I was one of the few, the proud, boy.”
“And now you’re the sheriff of Nottingham.”
“Deputy of Nottingham. The sheriff’s about a hundred years old.”
But Jake was barely listening. Hearing a raunchy feminine laugh on the other side of the room, his head snapped up. That couldn’t possibly be...
His gaze cut through the crowd that was beginning to fill the watering hole, tracking the sound to its source. And discovered that—hell—not only could it be, it was. Jenny Salazar was at the bar, laughing with the bartender and another woman.
She looked different tonight. Not at all like the little girl he’d first mistaken her for. Her lips were red and soft looking. Her hair without those braids was longer than he’d realized, a shiny rippling curtain of dark against the red sweater she wore. And her—
“What the hell are you staring at?” Max twisted in his seat to look over his shoulder. Then with a nod he settled back. “Ah. Tasha. She has that effect on guys. Not sure why—it’s not like she’s drop-dead gorgeous. Still, she’s got a way of stopping the show.”
Jake tore his gaze away. Gave himself a mental smack to get his head back in the game. And discovered that even then he didn’t have any idea what Max was babbling about. “Who?”
“Tasha Riordan. The strawberry blonde? That’s not who you’re looking at? Who then—Jenny?” He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t want to go there.”
That got his full attention. “I don’t? That is, I really don’t—my interest in her isn’t like that.” At least not much. He gave his head a shake. “But just to clarify, why don’t I? Is she yours?” He didn’t question too closely why the idea bugged him.
But his half brother seemed almost appalled by the idea. “No!”
“Okay. Some other guy’s?”
He shook his head.
“She’s a nun, then.”
Max gave him a what-the-fuck? look. “Here’s a thought. How ’bout you try not to be any more of an idiot than you already are.”
“I’m groping in the dark here, bro. She a lesbian?”
“Jesus. No. She’s just...sweet. Loyal. A good friend to everyone. Not someone for a guy like you to be messing with.”
“Yeah? Does she roll over and wag her tail when you scratch behind her ears, too?”
Max scowled, but Jake was too familiar with the expression to be intimidated. “What? She’s a woman, big B. You make her sound like an old dog.”
“You don’t understand.”
“No shit. I thought she was a kid when I met her this afternoon, but she herself disabused me of that notion right from the get. I take it she’s single, so I don’t see the problem if some guy—not me, but someone—wanted to slap the moves on her. So if she’s none of the things I’ve already mentioned, what does that leave? Terminal?” He shook his head. “No, the conversation I had with her didn’t leave me with that impression—she’s not inward looking enough. Leper?” He was enjoying his brother’s disgust at his guessing game, until a sudden thought turned his blood to ice and drop-kicked the smile right off his face. “Christ. Rape victim?”
“No. Where do you come up with this shit?”
He shrugged. “I’m a journalist. I’ve seen things.”
“I thought you were some hotshot photographer for National Explorer.”
“I am. Well, a photographer anyway. The hotshot part’s still a work in progress. But just because most of my work is told through the lens of a camera, doesn’t mean I’m not a questioning kind of guy.” Jake glanced over at the woman under discussion once again. She and her friend had migrated to a table. The friend, who had taken a chair facing him, did have something, he admitted. But it was Jenny, sitting in profile to him, who commanded his attention.
Well, of course she did. She held considerable sway over any relationship he might forge with Austin.
He looked back at Max. “I talked to her for all of maybe fifteen minutes this afternoon. So tell me about her. How does she fit into Austin’s life?”
“She’s like his sister.”
“Yeah, I got that. What I don’t get is, how did that happen? No way in hell they’re related. Kathy was an only child, and Emmett had one older sister who never married.”
Max shrugged. “She came here when she was fifteen—” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Sixteen?” He shook his head. “The exact age doesn’t really matter. She came here as a teen in the midst of a huge scandal. I was home on leave when she hit town.”
That caught Jake’s attention, but his brother immediately gave the air a negligent swipe with one big-knuckled hand.
“Not her scandal. It was her old man’s. He’d been all over the news because of some big swindle that crashed down around his ears and landed him in Monroe. Jenny came here with her mother.” Max’s face hardened. “Who, as far as I could tell, planted her skinny socialite ass in bed from the shame of it all,