“Wait. They own the inn?”
“Yeah. Or owned—they’re both gone now. Anyhow, when Jenny’s mother died a year or so after they came here, Emmett and Kathy invited her to move in with them.”
“She’s the closest thing to a sister Austin has,” Jake said. “Hell, the closest thing to a parent, really. She’s the one who made sure his grandparents didn’t spoil him rotten, which was their inclination with their only child dead and me deadbeating my responsibilities.”
“Coals are ready,” Austin yelled from the porch.
“Thanks, buddy,” Max called back, then lowered his voice and gave Jake a level look. “Let it go, bro. You’ve paid for your mistakes, and you’re doing everything you can to make up for your absence.”
His ready defense touched Luc. At the same time it gave him the by-now-familiar pinch of envy over his half brothers’ closeness. He was still trying to figure out what his place in this family was going to be.
He didn’t have time to dwell on it, however, because Max yelled out Harper’s name. When she twisted in her chair, raising her elegant eyebrows at him, he gave her quelling look the minimalist smile that anyone who’d spent any time with him knew was his version of a big shit-eating grin. “We’re ready to throw the meat on,” he said. “Is everything else ready?”
“Of course,” she said regally. Then she grinned back, and hers was wide and showed white teeth and pink gums. Her olive-green eyes morphed from big and round to narrow little crescents, and she raised her beer bottle to him in a silent toast.
“Excellent!” He shot her a warm, private look, then turned back to the men. “Let’s go grill us some steaks.”
Luc took his turn manning the barbecue but didn’t mind when he was shouldered aside by one half brother or another. Most of his attention was focused on Tasha anyway. She appeared to be ignoring his very existence, but he watched her as she and the other women went in and out of the kitchen to bring out the tableware, side dishes and drinks. Right up until they decided it was growing too cold and carried the items they’d brought out back inside.
He’d kept an eagle eye on Harbor Street the other night as he’d waited on the veranda for her to come home from her date. When he’d seen the tall blond walking her home, he’d gone into his studio and waited to hear them enter through the outside door—then manufactured that fucking flimsy excuse, which had been the first thing he thought of to put him out in the hallway with them.
That sure as hell hadn’t been a well-thought-out idea. She’d seen right through his weak pretext and hadn’t hesitated to call him on it, making him look like an idiot. Of course, he’d been an idiot, but what guy wanted to look like one in front of the woman he wanted?
Worse than that, however—much, much worse—had been having to witness her kiss another man.
He’d been totally unprepared for the hot wash of outrage that had roared through his veins. In truth, he hadn’t even been able to stomach actually looking longer than that initial glimpse. But the damage had been done—the sight had burned itself into his brain.
Damn. No other woman provoked the kind of feelings in him that she did.
Undercover drug agents didn’t have relationships. They had superficial encounters. Hookups. It was simply the nature of the job. It wasn’t as if he could tell anyone the truth about what he did for a living. He couldn’t use his real name. Lying through your teeth at every turn made it hard to lay any kind of foundation on which to build a sustainable relationship.
Back when he’d worked cases in the States, he’d spent his down hours hanging out with other undercover agents. They were the only ones who understood the pressures of the job they did—and it made the life easier because at least you had a few real friends. In South America, where, due to his fluency in Spanish, he’d spent the majority of his career, he hung out with drug exporters and killers.
And that had been okay with him, because the trade-off was the constant rush of staying one step ahead of a violent death. But seven years ago when he’d taken off for R & R, he’d wanted something different. He’d wanted to talk to somebody who was real. Someone not constantly playing an angle.
And he’d gotten that. In spades. He’d gotten Tasha.
Everything had been different with her—especially the way she’d made him feel. She had been so unselfconsciously, electrically genuine, and she’d made him feel alive in a way that hadn’t had a damn thing to do with dodging death. He’d wanted to just spend hours talking to her. Had wanted to learn everything about her and to tell her things about himself. For two days he’d felt as if he were real, too. Just another regular guy.
Then that night had happened, and now everything had turned to shit. She no longer looked at him and laughed and said whatever came into her head.
And it was just as well, really. There was no way in hell he and she could have any kind of relationship when he spent months, sometimes even years, out of the country. His work was dirty and dangerous, and he had to have his head in the game 100 percent. An agent couldn’t afford to worry about his family or his girl back home.
The few agents he knew who’d tried had ended up either dead because their focus was fractured or had lost that family back home because their wives had grown tired of being alone all the time.
So he had to quit crowding Tasha. Had to quit saying “But first” or “Before I go,” and kissing her every time she rightly tried to ward off his attentions. He had to not be so gut-destroyingly jealous when another man kissed her.
Yeah, well, fuck.
He doubted that last thing was gonna happen anytime soon. The only reason he hadn’t gone ape-shit after he’d stormed off Thursday night was because he’d seen the blond guy leaving the building just minutes after he had. If he’d had to come back and listen to the headboard banging the wall, he couldn’t say what he might have done.
If it weren’t for his brothers, he’d take off and remove himself from temptation. Find out where the DEA needed him next and head there. Maybe see if he couldn’t get a stateside case for a change.
But he did have two new half brothers, and he felt a real need to cement a lasting relationship with them. He wanted to forge a bond between them so he could come back here between jobs and not have them look at him and say, “Luc who?”
It knocked him sideways to know that Jake had been absent from Razor Bay for so many years. He and Max had probably kept in touch during his absence, but Luc had imagined them hanging out together the entirety of their lives, and clearly that hadn’t happened.
“Steaks are done!”
Under Max’s direction, he grabbed another beer for each of them and followed his brothers into the house.
He chose a chair at the opposite end but same side of the table as Tasha so it would be harder to see her. As a consequence, he enjoyed his meal without having to worry that he’d be outed at any moment for staring at her. God knew neither of his half brothers would shy away from calling him on it.
They feasted on perfectly grilled meat—porterhouse steaks for the men and Austin and filet mignons for the women. Harper had made a huge casserole dish of something called party potatoes that was kick-ass, plus a green salad, hot crusty bread and a platter of fresh pears, apples and grapes.
When everyone had finished up, Max looked around the table, meeting their gazes one by one. “You all probably already know that Sheriff Neward is retiring the first of the year,” he said and hesitated. Then he gave a little dip of his chin. “Harper and I have talked about it—and have decided I’ll run for his office.”
The response was immediate and enthusiastic. “Good plan!” Jenny said.
Jake nodded. “Everyone knows you’re the clear choice for sheriff. I’ve heard some of your ideas for improving the office, and they’re well thought out.”
Thinking of some of the measures his half brother had told him he’d like to put in place to improve efficiency, Luc, too, nodded. “You’re definitely the guy to bring your departm
ent into the new millennium.”
Tasha grinned at the big deputy across the table. “Oh, Max! As Harper would say, ‘Good-oh on you.’”
Max flashed them a wry smile. “I’m glad you guys approve, because I’m gonna need your help. The downside to this running-for-office crap is that I’ll have to stump for it. You may not have noticed,” he said dryly, “but I’m not the chattiest guy in the world.”
Eyes rolled toward the ceiling, Tasha whistled.
Jenny gave him a look of faux shock. “No!” she exclaimed. “You?”
“Yeah, smart-ass. I have no idea at this point who I might be up against, but you know they’ll be more personable than me. I’m not sure I can kiss babies and glad-hand a thousand people and come off as credible.”
“Your only real job is to show people you’re the best man for the job,” Luc said. “And since you are, tell them the same thing you’ve told us. Share all your ideas on how you’d improve the office and save the taxpayers money. That and your record as a longtime deputy in Razor Bay will sell you.”
Max gave him a pleased smile. “That makes sense. Thanks, bro. That is exactly what I’ll concentrate on. I have a lot of ideas on how to make our department the best damn sheriff’s office of its size. Silverdale’s is easily twice our size, and I bet I could make ours even better than that.”
It felt good to have said the right thing to his brother, and he realized that was the way he was beginning to think of both Max and Jake, as his brothers—full stop, period, no half designation needed. He had dropped in on them out of the blue, yet from the beginning they had been nothing but great about including him in all their functions and get-togethers. And he appreciated it. Emotion abruptly swamped him, and he swallowed a lump in his throat. Really appreciated it.
Feeling a little sheepish for the rush of maudlin sentimentality, he took refuge in action and reached for the party potatoes to help himself to another serving. He didn’t want them all to grab hands and break into a chorus of “Kumbaya,” for crissake.
“Did Tasha tell you about tomorrow?”
He froze, the big serving spoon he’d just emptied onto his plate suspended in midair as he looked from it to Max. “Huh?”
“She found Jeremy a little house out on Henderson Road, and he’s moving into it tomorrow. He was one of our Cedar Village boys before he started working for Tash, so we’re pretty pumped. In fact, Harper hooked them up.”
“And that was a gold-star day for Bella T’s,” Tasha agreed. “He was one of my damn-girl-you-lucked-out hires.” She actually, voluntarily looked at Luc. “He’s moving out of the Village tomorrow. It’s kind of a big deal for him, and we’re going to lend him a hand.” She subjected him to a comprehensive look-over. “You can come—we can always use another strong back. Not that Jeremy has much, but we’re scrounging some things together—furniture, linens, well, anything, really, a person can use in a house.”
“I only brought a duffel to Razor Bay, so I don’t have any of that kinda stuff. But I can kick in some cash for the things you aren’t able to scrounge.”
She gave him the first truly friendly smile he’d seen from her in quite a while. “That would work. We’re going to caravan to his place at nine tomorrow morning. Be in front of Bella’s if you’re coming with—or one of us can give you the address if you can’t make it that early.”
“I don’t have anything going,” he said honestly. “Count me in.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A BRISK RAP on the lintel accompanied Mary-Margaret as she stuck her head through the open door to Jeremy’s room. “Hello, dear. Harper called to say she’ll be here in about five minutes. Are you almost ready to go?”
He looked over from the final inspection he’d been conducting to make sure he hadn’t missed anything and nodded at the Cedar Village director. “Yeah. I think I’ve got everything.”
“And if not, you’re only a mile and a half away,” she said with a smile. “If you ever need help or a refresher session with the counselor, you know you only have to call.”
“Thanks, Mary-Margaret. That means a lot.” Every Village resident he knew had had the same reaction to Mary-Margaret as he had the first time he’d met her—they’d all been pretty damn sure she was gonna be their personal Nurse Ratched. When she wasn’t actively smiling, she had naturally downturned lips that gave her a more-than-sour look—you got the impression she’d just as soon kick kittens as look at one.
The truth was, though, she smiled most of the time, and anyone who got to know her could plainly see what a sweetheart she was. God knew it didn’t take long to get to know her, either. With the exception of the confidential counseling sessions, Mary-Margaret had her fingers in every corner of Cedar Village life.
“Are you nervous?” she inquired gently, stepping into the room.
He opened his mouth to say Hell, no, but then shut it again, the words left unspoken. If today was to be the start of his independence, of his life as a grown-up, then he’d better be honest. That was the cornerstone of what his counselor, Ryan, had taught him: that truth was the primary ingredient he could bring to every aspect of his life. If you want the right to be called a man, Ryan was fond of saying, then you have to own your actions. And your feelings as well, although the counselor had acknowledged wryly that that tended to be a lot harder for most men.
He hitched a shoulder now. “A little bit. I’m mostly excited, though.” And he was. He was nervous that he didn’t have all the basic necessities he was going to need, but he thought that was probably more a matter of logistics than an inability on his part to get them. Harper had found him the house and wrangled a contract that didn’t make him pay the last month’s rent up front. She’d cheerfully cosigned the lease to get the concession, and he would not let her down. The fact that he didn’t have to come up with an additional big chunk of cash along with the first month’s rent and the damage deposit had really helped his campaign to put away as much of his paychecks as possible. So he had the means to outfit his place if he was really frugal and kept an eye out for some good deals. The problem was how to get stuff home once he bought it. Because while finding it was doable, it was likely to take a lot of trips to transport everything he needed.
It would sure be great if Razor Bay had better bus service than the twice-daily round-trip to Silverdale, since he didn’t yet have the secondhand bike he planned to purchase, never mind a mode of transportation that included a trunk. But he had feet that would get him where he needed to go until he could afford something that got him there faster.
Another knock on his open door interrupted his thoughts, and Harper breezed in. “Hullo, you! Are you ready to make the big move?” She looked beyond him. “Hi, Mary-Margaret.”
“Hello, dear. I’ll leave you two to your work.” She turned to him. “Congratulations, Jeremy. We’re so proud of you—and if you need anything at all, you let us know and we’ll do our best to see if we can get it for you.”
“I wouldn’t mind a subscription to Maxim.”
Seriously, asshat? He could have kicked himself for blurting that, of all things, to a woman who could’ve been his grandmother if he’d been luckier in the gene pool.
But Mary-Margaret merely laughed. “Anything except that,” she said dryly, and she pulled him in for a quick, hard hug, then turned him loose. “You be good,” she said fiercely. “And come back to visit me.” Then she strode from the room.
He thunked himself on the forehead. “I can’t believe I said that.”
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Harper said. “Mary-Margaret’s heard it all, and I imagine that wasn’t even close to being the worst.” She laughed. “Inappropriate, certainly, but not the worst.” She indicated the belongings he’d piled on the stripped bed. “Is this everything?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t have that much, so it shouldn’t take them long to carry it to the car. He suddenly realized who was missing from this equation and had to swallow his disappointment. “Did Max have to go
to work?” he inquired nonchalantly. The big quiet deputy was one of his all-time favorite people. Max spent a lot of time at the Village, and all the guys liked him because it was as if he knew exactly what it was to be them. He’d been open with everyone on how he’d screwed up at their age and what it had taken to turn his life around. They could all see that he was a successful adult. And the beauty was, he didn’t seem to doubt for an instant that every one of them would turn themselves around, as well.
It made you want to do just that—if only to keep from disappointing him and people like Mary-Margaret and Ryan.
Harper shook her head. “He had a few things he had to do, but he’ll meet us at your place.”
Sidetracked by that last phrase, he grinned. “My place,” he murmured and savored the sound of it as if it was rocky-road ice cream.
“I know.” She flashed him that huge smile that narrowed her eyes to cheerful little crescents. “Brilliant, right?”
“No shit.”
She raised her eyebrows at him, and he added hastily, “Kidding, I meant. No kidding.”
They put his stuff in the backseat of her car, and as Harper drove them away, Jeremy craned around until Cedar Village disappeared from sight. It seemed as if he’d barely settled back in his seat when she turned into a short driveway and pulled up in front of a little beige house. “Welcome to your new home.”
He broke out in a sudden sweat. Jeezus. What was he thinking—he’d never lived alone in his life. Oh, he’d dreamed about it often enough when his mom was on one of her erratic tears. Faced now with the reality of actually doing it, however, he had an overwhelming urge to beat feet back to Cedar Village.
His misgivings must have shown because Harper reached across the console and squeezed his hand. “It’s going to be all right,” she said softly, but then shook her head. “No. It’s going to be much more than that. It’s going to be good. You’re going to be brilliant at this the same way Tasha tells me you are at your job.”
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