“Yeah, right.”
She slugged his arm. “It’s true!” Then she studied him for a moment before asking, “So, how did you handle your mom’s issues?”
He grimaced. “I didn’t, at least not in any constructive way—that was kinda what landed me at Cedar Village. Which in the end turned out to be the best place for me, so I can’t say that was such a bad thing.” Dude. She’s not the only one who’s suddenly chatty. What’s up with that?
He waved the mental reservation away. She had no agenda as far as he could tell and apparently was genuinely interested in what he had to say. So he blew out a quiet breath and added, “They helped me learn how to deal.”
“Hey,” Tiffany suddenly called from the counter separating the kitchen from the dining area, and he started, so focused had he been on Peyton. “We have tables that need clearing out here.”
“Whoops.” Peyton gave him a smile that was surprisingly sweet for someone who nine times out of ten came off as a chick far above all the crap that the rest of them slogged through on a daily basis. Then she turned away. And raising her voice as she headed back out into the restaurant, she called, “Sorry, Tiff. I’m on my way.”
As Jeremy turned back to assembling pizzas, he wondered what he was thinking getting so relaxed with her. As a general rule he kept to himself, particularly when it came to the town kids. And yet...
By the end of the week, he supposed he could be considered a town kid himself. And he already worked here. He wasn’t just a Cedar Village boy anymore—this Sunday he was moving out of his room at the Village and into a tiny rental on Henderson Road.
He was a little nervous about it. He’d have to look around for a cheap bike to buy, because his new house was a couple of miles from work. And except for a fairly decent bed and a few shabby pieces of furniture in the postage-stamp-sized living room, plus a pot or pan or two in the kitchen, he needed...well, everything.
But for the most part, he was pumped, because, dude, this would be the first place that was his alone. And once he had his very own address...well. He, too, would be an official Razor Bay citizen.
Maybe then he’d feel on more equal footing with Peyton, who, it appeared, was a whole lot more than just some rich girl from the bluff.
He never would have guessed it, but her I’m-above-the-mess-the-rest-of-you-call-life exterior was apparently a front, because the girl he’d thought she was, the one who observed everyone through shuttered, amused eyes and said little, turned out to be a chatterer. Hell, a chatterbox squared. She started talking the minute she hit the entry her next trip through the kitchen.
“This is your first time being in charge of the kitchen on your own, right?” she asked as she started unloading the dishwasher and shelving its contents.
“Yep.”
“Does it make you nervous to be totally responsible for everything?”
He wanted to be cool and deny it. Somehow, though, the truth just sort of jumped out of his mouth. “A little.”
She shot him a smile over her shoulder. “Yeah, it’d make me nervous, too. You’re doing great, though, so that’s pretty sweet, right?”
His mouth quirked up. “Yeah. It is. Damn sweet.”
She gave the last plate she’d stacked on the shelf a little pat, then reached for her tub and started unloading it into the now-empty washing racks. “Tiffany says Tasha went on a date tonight.”
It took him a second to catch up with the change of subject. Then he nodded, because he actually knew something about it. “Yeah, she mentioned that. With some dude named Axel Someone-or-another.”
Peyton turned to face him, the dirty glass she held clearly forgotten as she stared at him. “You’re kidding me. She didn’t go out with the new Bradshaw guy? The way those two look at each other, I thought for sure—”
“Nope. Axel. You don’t forget a name like that.”
She laughed. “No, I guess not.” She fell quiet for a whole minute while she finished transferring the contents of her tub into the machine.
Tiffany came by with two new orders and a large Mountain Dew in a cup of ice, which she carried into the kitchen. Impeccably made up as usual, she handed him the drink. “Thought you might be getting thirsty.”
“Thanks,” he said, surprised and gratified that she’d thought about him. He guessed they really were starting to work as a team.
“Not a problem.” She flipped him an acknowledging wave over her shoulder as she strode back into the dining room.
“She’s nice,” Peyton said and closed the appliance door. “And the girl knows makeup. Even the biggest snobs in school ask her advice on cosmetics. She can take one look at a girl and tell her exactly what color lipstick or eye shadow will do the most for her complexion—right down to the brand.” She turned to him. “It’s a—” Breaking off midsentence, she simply stared, apparently struck by the way he chugged down half his drink in one long gulp. Then she gave her head a shake. “—um, gift.”
“Sorry,” he said, using the side of his hand to blot the drip he felt on his bottom lip. “Is knocking it back bad manners? Sorry ’bout that, but Tiff was right. I was thirsty.”
“I don’t blame you. It’s hot work.” She shook herself. “Speaking of which, I better get back to mine. It seems busier than usual for a Thursday night.”
“Tell me about it.”
She laughed and strode back out into the restaurant.
Jeremy returned to work, as well. But as he assembled the new orders Tiff delivered, he found himself with a big—and he was pretty sure goofy-ass—grin on his face.
* * *
ARRIVING AT HER front door, Tasha turned to her date. “Thanks for dinner, Axel. I had a great time.” The Good Night ritual was upon her, that awkward moment she had...well, not dreaded, exactly, but had not been looking forward to. Would he try to kiss her? Would she let him? They’d agreed they were having dinner as friends, but she knew he’d like more.
And sure enough, he braced one hand on the lintel next to her head and leaned down. She didn’t protest but merely looked up at him. And he kissed her.
It was nice. Very nice, actually. He was a...really excellent kisser. But no matter how good he was—
The door to the studio apartment next door suddenly opened. Axel took his time raising his head, and both of them slowly turned their heads to look down the hallway at Luc, who had stepped out and was locking up behind him.
His jaw was tight, and although he held a garbage bag in one hand, he seemed to forget it as he looked back at them. “Getting back kind of late from dinner, aren’tcha?”
She stiffened. “What are you, the dating police? We had a nice time and got to talking.” Which was all true enough, but perhaps she sounded just the slightest bit defensive.
“Just saying,” he said easily. “When I helped you into your clothes before your friend there picked you up, I—”
“Oh!” She pushed Axel back, stalked down the few yards that separated her apartment from Luc’s and gave him a shot to the chest that didn’t budge him an inch. “Helped me into my clothes, my ass. You are so full of it!”
Belatedly, it hit her that she’d left her date standing by her door, and, silently cursing herself, she turned on her heel and hurried back to him.
“I’m sorry, Axel. That was inexcusably rude of me.” She appealed to him with her sincerest look—and she truly was sorry that she’d allowed Luc to draw her attention away from where it belonged—on her date. “It’s just—I hate that he’s trying to make it sound as if something happened between us that most certainly didn’t.” Or mostly hadn’t, anyway. She had gone to his apartment to have him fasten a dress she could have zipped herself into with a modicum of contortion because she was tired of having him mess with her emotions.
Thinking about how effective his messing tended to be made her glance away from Axel again to glare at Luc. Truth was, she still thought he could stand a little of his own medicine. “Don’t you have a bag to take out to the Dumpst
er?” she demanded, and, okay, that was weak.
But then she really looked at the drawstring kitchen sack hanging limply from his hand—and gave him a knowing little smile. The thing wasn’t even half-full. “After all,” she said smoothly, “it would be a shame if you missed next Monday’s pickup. Not when you’re so weighed down with. All. That. Garbage.”
A satisfying hint of color washed his cheekbones, and he stalked past them and banged through the exterior door. It slammed closed behind him, and Tasha could hear the heavy thud of his feet pounding down the wooden treads of the exterior staircase.
For a second she felt exultant—until she turned back to Axel, who regarded her with blank-faced neutrality. That was when it sank in that her rudeness had been beyond inexcusable. She’d said she was sorry, then just turned right around and gone back to one-upping Luc, making her apology little more than lip service.
“Oh, crap,” she said miserably. “I really, truly am sorry. I know better than to get into it with Luc, but I can never seem to help myself.” Axel’s expression didn’t change, and she offered tentatively, “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee? Or I have some wine if you prefer. I promise to be better company.”
He simply looked at her for a silence-filled moment. Then one big hand abruptly slashed to indicate first her and then himself. “You and me,” he said slowly. “There’s not even a spark of chemistry for you, is there?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, but she felt abjectly guilty all the same. Because—
“No,” she admitted. “I’m afraid there isn’t. I like you immensely, Axel. I— Just not in that way.”
“I’ve kind of known that since the sixth grade,” he said gravely. “I suppose I thought that if I didn’t admit it, things might change.” He drilled her with Nordic blue eyes. “But that’s never going to happen, is it?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. I really wish I could say otherwise.” Lord, did she!
“So do I. But it is what it is.” He bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then straightened once more to his full height and gave her a long unsmiling inspection. It ended with a terse nod. “Good night, Tash.”
“’Bye, Axel.” She longed to apologize once more but doubted he was interested in hearing her abject regret yet again. The last thing he needed was to be forced to make conversation to make her feel better.
She watched him walk away, knowing that for all she prided herself on being a decent person, she hadn’t been in this instance. Now she had to live with the knowledge that she had treated a really good guy very poorly.
Dammit, she was more like her mother than she cared to admit. Because like Nola, she’d rejected someone perfectly nice to play stupid unproductive games with a man whose time in town was limited to say the least.
The Riordan women really did suck when it came to romance.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“THROW IT TO ME, Uncle Luc!”
Luc grinned and winged the Frisbee in a low, fast arc to Jake’s son, Austin. He watched the kid catch it and snap it off to Max. He was unaccountably tickled when Max then sent it diagonally back to him instead of tossing it to Jake.
The four of them had been throwing the disc around Max’s backyard while they waited for the briquettes to reach their optimum cooking temperature. Max didn’t believe in gas grills—according to him, only a pussy would use one. Luc’s two half siblings had trash-talked each other’s choice in barbecues for a good ten minutes. No quarter was given on either side, but the bottom line today was Max’s house, Max’s rules. He had a plate stacked with truly excellent-looking steaks, and he was grilling them old school.
Luc rolled his shoulders. The barbecue his half brothers preferred wasn’t the real issue here—although you had to appreciate how invested they could get in the subject. The real issue was how blown away he still felt knowing he was somebody’s uncle. He had a nephew, for crissake. And not just any nephew, either, but this dark-haired, pale green–eyed awesome kid.
He had seen Austin on other occasions since he’d been in town, of course, but when Luc first came to Razor Bay it had been the tag end of the kid’s summer vacation. He was fourteen, and as with teenagers everywhere, his waning vacation equated to hanging with friends and trying to cram in every last entertainment he could before school started up again.
Now that it was back in session, Austin stayed a bit closer to home, although he still spent as much time as Jake and Jenny allowed with his girl, Bailey, and best friend, Nolan. Little by little, however, he and Luc were getting to know one another.
“Wait!” the kid called now. “You gotta see this one!” He flung the Frisbee at an angle that flew parallel to the back of the house, before moving close enough to actually touch its wall. It skimmed along the cedar shingles for a few feet, then skipped away to sail within a foot of Luc, who snatched it out of the air.
All three Bradshaw brothers whooped their enthusiasm over the successful trick shot and Austin grinned in delight.
“How did you do that?” Luc demanded. Because, truly, it was brilliant. And looked damned difficult.
“I’ve watched the Brodie Smith YouTube videos, like, a million times,” his nephew said. “And I’ve been practicing.” Then he smiled sheepishly and admitted, “I only get it right about every third or fourth time.”
“Which is a hundred times better than I’d ever get it.” Having children of his own had never even been a blip on Luc’s radar, but he could see why Jake was crazy proud of Austin. He really was a great kid.
“Tasha!” Harper exclaimed at the same time that Jenny said, “You made it!”
It jerked Luc’s attention away from Austin, and after winging the disc he still held to Max, he stopped to watch Tasha as she strolled around the corner of the garage into the backyard.
“I did,” she replied with a grin. “And unlike the last time I was here, I even remembered to slap on a little makeup.”
The weather had dropped a good fifteen degrees since Thursday, and she had on skinny jeans and ankle boots. She’d topped them with a patterned blouse in autumn colors that was almost entirely covered by the rust-colored tunic-length sweater fastened over it with oversized bone buttons. Her hair was loose, the long mass of curls shifting with every movement.
He vaguely heard Jake’s murmured, “Heads up, bro.” But it was Austin’s “Look out, dude!” that caught his attention. He was just turning his head to see what had put the alarm in his nephew’s voice when the Frisbee caught him in the chest. It stung, but refusing to let it show, he slapped a hand to the plastic disc to keep it from bouncing off.
He felt stupid enough getting caught gawking at Tasha without the ignominy of having it smack him, then roll away to flop at her feet.
“Good reflexes,” Max said. “You must’ve got ’em from my part of the family. Jake never would’ve caught it.”
“Dude,” Austin said without heat. “That’s my father you’re dissin’.”
“Sorry, kid. But better you accept now that your old man’s got certain failings that can’t be worked around. If you don’t expect much from him in the way of physical prowess, you won’t be constantly disappointed. You clearly got yours from your uncle Luc and me.”
Austin laughed. “Don’t listen to him, Dad,” he said, patting Jake on the arm. Then, in the way of teenage boys, his thought processes immediately skipped on to the next thing that popped into his mind. “I’m hungry—I’m gonna go check the coals.” He raced off.
Luc turned to Jake with a grin. “You sure raised a great kid. You must be really proud.”
His brother nodded. “I am proud. But I can’t take credit for raising him. That was all on Jenny.”
“Huh? I thought Jenny was your girlfriend. Is she Austin’s mother?”
“No,” Jake said. He hesitated for an instant, then shook his head. “Look, I need a beer if I’m going to tell this story.” Covering ground with long-legged strides, he led the way to the cooler by the back stairs. He pulled thre
e bottles out of the ice, opened them on the opener affixed to the side of the cooler and passed Luc and Max theirs. He took a long pull from his own, then lowered the bottle and met Luc’s gaze.
“When I was in high school,” he said, “I earned a full scholarship to Columbia University. I’d barely stopped whooping over my acceptance letter when I learned I’d knocked up my girlfriend.” He blew out a quiet breath. “Man, I’d dreamed about leaving town, had worked toward that goal for years.” He gave his head a little shake as if reliving the shock all over again. “Instead Kari and I got married and I took a job at the inn. Like so many kids who get caught like that, I was miserable and so was she. Our marriage was pretty much in shambles by the time Austin was born.” Looking off into the distance, he drank down more beer.
Then he looked back at Luc. “Insurance companies dictate that hospitals release people way too early these days, and shortly after Kari got home, she started hemorrhaging. The long and the short of it is, she died.”
“Jesus.” Luc didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. I was a mess. Emmett and Kathy, her parents, said I should take the scholarship, that they’d take care of Austin. I jumped at the chance—but I’m pretty sure they didn’t intend that I wouldn’t look back until this past spring.”
“Dude.” He couldn’t wrap his head around that in conjunction with the man he’d been getting to know. “Seriously?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I have no excuse—I was young and selfish, and because of it I missed out on most of Austin’s life.”
Luc glanced at the women, who were lounging in chairs across the yard, laughing raucously over something. He got hung up as usual on Tasha, but pulling his attention from her, he looked back at the youngest of the Bradshaw brothers. “So where does Jenny come in?”
“Jenny came to town when she was sixteen,” Max answered for his brother. “The reasons why make for a long story, and I’ll let her share those details with you if she wants to. The upshot here is that she started working at the inn after school and on weekends maybe two days after moving here. She was a hard worker and got close to the Pierces.” He seemed to realize that Luc didn’t know who they were, for he added, “Kari’s folks.”
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