Some Like It Hot (5 page)

“You don’t have to walk me home.” She grinned up at him. “But you’re going to anyway, aren’t you, ’cause you’re Mister Responsible.” She turned in the direction he indicated and headed down the path that intersected with another that led to her cottage, getting ahead of his hand, which he dropped to his side.

“That’s me,” he agreed. “And for a woman I’d lay odds on being pretty damn independent, you’re being suspiciously easy to steer.”

“Never get between a man and his beer, I always say.”

“No fooling?” Tucking his hands in his front pockets, he strolled a scant inch behind her. “I just might have to marry you.”

He thought he saw her step falter, but maybe not, because he blinked and she was walking with hip-swinging ease. Not to mention the wry smile she shot him.

“You don’t think you might have kind of low standards for a future wife?” she inquired.

“Hey, I’m pretty serious about my beer.” And damn amazed that for this moment, at least, he felt downright at ease with her.

“Ah, well, then.”

They arrived at her cottage, and she turned to face him. “Thanks, Max. You truly are a nice guy.”

“No, I’m not!”

Her dark brows furrowed. “That’s not an insult.”

Except for the part where being a “nice” guy was usually the kiss of death when it came to getting laid.

He straightened. What the hell difference did
that
make? It wasn’t as if a woman like Harper was going to sleep with a guy like him anyway.

“You’re right,” he said, giving her a stiff smile and falling back into the professionalism he’d used from day one as a shield against his attraction to her. “It was a very nice compliment—it’s just been a long day, like you said. But I’m always glad to be of assistance.” He tweaked the room card from her fingers and slid it into the slot, then turned away for her to punch in the code.

He twisted back when he heard the door open and gave her a crisp nod. “You enjoy the rest of your night, now.”

“O...kay,” she said faintly.

But he was already off her porch and halfway down the path.

CHAPTER FIVE

“I’
M
SO
GLAD
we finally managed to get together.” Harper said as she slid into a chair across a small wooden table from Tasha at The Anchor bar Friday afternoon.

“No fooling—I’m happy you could get away during the day.” The tall, attractive strawberry blonde gave her a rueful smile. “I’m afraid the downside to owning my own pizza joint is that my work is generally just kicking into high gear about the time everyone else’s is winding down and they’re getting ready to go home for the day.”

“And erratic hours are rather the upside of my job. I guided a kayak group along the shoreline to town this morning, but Fridays are a big transition day—checkouts in the morning and even more ins during the late afternoon, so I don’t have anything scheduled until my sunset yoga class this evening. So, good-oh for us, huh?”

“What’s good-oh for you two?” A purse landed on the table next to Harper, and she looked up to see Jenny pulling out the chair beside hers. “Tell me I didn’t miss anything good.”

“Nah.” Tasha shook her head at her friend. “We were just congratulating ourselves on finding some mutual time off.”

“Yeah, too bad about you peons.” Bouncing a fist off her chest, Jenny flashed them a big smile. “It’s good to be boss.”

“Hey, I’m a boss, too,” Tasha said. “I’m the boss of me.”

“And yet you’re always tied to Bella T’s from late afternoon on. Hell, from lunch on most of the summer.”

“Yeah, I should probably think about hiring more people to give me some flexibility.” She slid them a sly smile. “Still, it could be worse. I could be the peon like Harper.”

“Now, that’s just cold!” But Harper laughed, enjoying herself immensely. She’d been sitting with the two women for less than five minutes and already it had occurred to her that she’d done herself a huge disservice when she’d failed to pursue more female friendships over the years.

Tasha grinned at her, and Harper determined then and there that she would actively work at having a relationship with her and Jenny. For once in her life she wasn’t going to allow the length of time she spent in a given town to dictate the effort she put into getting to know people. This time she’d make friends on a deeper level than her usual enjoy-them-while-they-last-but-don’t-get-too-involved way.

“I’m surprised you managed to pull yourself away from Lover Boy,” Tasha said to Jenny as she raised a hand to catch a nearby waitress’s attention.

“It wasn’t easy,” the small brunette agreed. “But it’s been far too long since I’ve had any decent girl time. And much as I love Jake, the estrogen deprivation was starting to make me twitch.”

Tasha gave her a solemn nod. “I totally get that. Lovely as men can be, there’s such a thing as testosterone overload.”

“But, oh, what a way to go,” Jenny murmured with a small, private smile.

All three women laughed. “Oh, sure, rub it in for those of us who haven’t been as lucky lately,” Harper said. She raised her brows at Tasha. “Or maybe that’s just me.”

“Nope. Much as I’d love to say it is, I’m part of the ain’t-getting-any demographic myself.”

A college-aged blonde stopped by their table to drop three coasters in front of them. “You ladies ready?”

After they placed their orders, they watched the blonde stride off. Then Jenny turned to Harper. Planting an elbow on the table, she propped her chin in her palm to study her. “I never would have pegged you as a beer drinker.”

“What did you think I’d drink?”

“Martinis,” Tasha said unhesitatingly, and Jenny nodded her agreement.

“Really?” She shifted her gaze between the two women. “Why?”

“Probably because you’ve got that whole—” Jenny rotated a hand “—sophisticated thang going for you.”

This time Tasha nodded.

Then the petite brunette dismissively flapped the same hand. “That’s not important, though,” she said, focusing her attention on Harper. “I was wondering...how would you like to take on some added responsibility at the inn?”

“Well, I don’t know.” Harper was at once excited at the idea and uneasy. She always enjoyed the challenge of learning or conquering new skills. At the same time, the goal that had brought her here had nothing to do with her job at The Brothers. “You know I’m not looking for a full forty-hour week.”

“Right now you’re not even up to thirty hours.” Jenny sat straighter in her chair. “What I have in mind will add maybe an extra five hours a week. And I think it’s something you’d not merely enjoy but be really good at.”

“Okay, now you’ve got me all curious.”

“Me, too,” Tasha said.

“Every year, from the Thursday before Labor Day through the holiday, the town holds its annual Razor Bay Days. Max told Jake, who of course told me, about your ideas to bump the Village’s fund-raising efforts up a notch. That’s exactly the kind of thinking we need for handling the inn’s participation in the events.”

Jenny must have seen her instinctive shake of the head, for she hurried to say, “You don’t have to reinvent the wheel, sweetie. It’s mostly a matter of handling the things we already have in place. For instance, we always buy a block of preferential seating for the Saturday parade and Sunday night fireworks in town, and you’re in a perfect position to let people know they’re available. The actual sales will be handled at the front desk. You’d set up an Adult Night with an appropriate theme and activities, as well as a coordinating Game Night for the kids. You’re so damn inventive, this stuff oughtta be right up your alley.”

“I’m surprised you’re not doing it yourself,” Harper said slowly. “You must have it down pat by now.”

The cocktail waitress arrived then with their order, and the three women exchanged pleasantries with her as she placed their drinks on the table. When she walked away again, Jenny leaned forward.

“That’s actually part of the problem. Razor Bay Days is the inn’s single largest occupancy week, and it’s routinely sold out as much as a year in advance—in many cases to people who come year after year. I feel we need some fresh eyes on this, fresh ideas.”

A few ran through Harper’s mind, and she couldn’t help the excitement that coursed through her veins. She loved doing this sort of thing. “Okay, it sounds like fun. I’ll do it.”

“Excellent!” Jenny smiled hugely and leaned into her. “Let’s get together at my office tomorrow and—”

“Everything was
fine
until you came along,” a belligerent voice suddenly cut through their conversation, and Harper twisted in her seat in time to see a man take a swipe at the drink in front of another man sitting with a woman at the bar. The top-heavy glass tumbled over, and liquid spilled across the bar to waterfall over the side.

The woman leaped to her feet, brushing at her shorts and the waistband of her top, which were spotted with whatever had been in the glass.

“Crap. Wade’s at it again.” Jenny, who had turned toward the bar as well, swiveled back in unison with Harper to face center again.

“Who’s Wade, and why on earth did he
do
that?”

“Wade Nelson.” Tasha tipped her chin in the direction of the woman who’d jumped up. “He and Mindy were married once upon a time.”

“But Wade has issues, and one day she finally had her fill of them and kicked him out,” Jenny said, picking up the story. “Eventually she and Curt Neff started going out, and a year or so later they got married. Wade refuses to accept that it’s over between him and his ex-wife.”

The man was still loudly haranguing the ex-wife’s husband. “You’d think they’d be furious, but I don’t hear them saying anything to him in return.” She wanted to turn around to see, but her manners-count upbringing deemed it best not to gawk at them again.

“They learned through hard experience that ignoring him is best all around,” Jenny said. “I don’t know if I could keep my mouth shut as well as they have, though. That has to be hard.”

“Seriously hard. How long have they been doing it?”

“Seven years.”

An incredulous laugh escaped her. “Are you bamming me? They’ve been apart seven years and he still thinks—what?—that she’ll come back to him? When he acts like that?”

“She and Curt have been
married
seven years,” the petite brunette corrected. “Mindy and Wade have been divorced damn near nine now. But you’ve got the basic idea right. He simply won’t admit she’s never coming back.”

Sunlight flooded the front end of the bar for an instant as the door to the street opened; then the room regained its usual atmospheric dimness once again when it slowly closed behind the new arrival. A no-nonsense voice Harper would know anywhere said, “Let’s go, Wade.”

Like a compass needle seeking true north, she swung around to watch Max Bradshaw stride up to the bar. He wore his usual uniform of knotted-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life black tie over a khaki shirt with shoulder epaulets. A gold-toned badge was pinned to his chest, and gold, black and green shield-shaped patches, each sporting a spread-winged eagle and the Razor Bay Sheriff’s Office designation, decorated his shirt’s sleeves above the hems that bisected the solid mounds of his biceps.

His jeans, soft and worn almost white at the seams, might have seemed incongruous with the crisp professionalism of his upper torso if not for the black web utility belt that bristled with the tools of his trade—including a deadly-serious-looking gun. Or perhaps it was his no-nonsense, you-don’t-
even
-wanna-mess-with-me attitude that so efficiently negated any slacker-dude vibe the near-shabby jeans might have otherwise suggested.

She watched him put a big hand on Wade’s shoulder—and shivered, remembering how crazy-aware she’d been of it hovering just above her own back when he’d escorted her to her cabin from the hot tub. “Let’s go,” he said again.

Wade shook him off so abruptly that he himself staggered—then glared at Max as if it were his fault. “Why the hell don’t you take
him
in,” he demanded, jutting a petulant chin in Curt’s direction.

Max reached out to steady him before the other man lost his balance entirely and replied evenly, “Because the call I got said Mindy and Curt were just sitting here minding their own business when you showed up and made a scene. Since I’ve been called out dozens of times to deal with this exact same situation, I have no reason to question the information.” He gave the other man a level look. “Now, you can come with me peaceably, or I can drag your ass out of here in cuffs. It’s your choice, Wade.”

“Fine.” Tugging the neckline of his stained T-shirt away from his Adam’s apple, Wade twisted his chin, stretching it first to the left, then to the right. “Whatever.” And he shambled toward the door, with Max’s hand planted between his shoulder blades to guide him whenever he hesitated.

At the door Max reached around Wade to pull it open. Sunshine splashed into the room again. Then the two men stepped out into the afternoon and disappeared from view as the door swung shut behind them.

Blowing out a quiet breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding, Harper turned back to her companions. “I am simply amazed no one has snapped that man up.”

“Who?” Jenny asked. She blinked then, and sat a little straighter.
“Max?”

“Yeah. Oh, I know he’s not the most sociable guy in the universe, but he’s big, he’s built, and God knows the man is competent at everything he does. I find that seriously sexy.” Seeing her new friends gaping at her, she stilled. “Come on. I can’t be the only woman in town who finds him attractive.”

“Um...yeah, you kind of are,” Tasha said. Then she shook her head. “That is, he
is
an attractive man. He’s built like nobody’s business.”

“And he’s got a killer smile,” Jenny contributed. “But he’s kind of stingy with it.”

“And like you said,” the strawberry blonde concluded, “he’s not exactly Mister Social.”

Jenny snorted agreement, and Tasha looked at Harper. “Max is just so sober and intense. Not to mention disinterested—and I guess between all of that, it scares women off. Because now that you mention it, I can’t say I’ve seen him with a particular woman since he came back to town.”

Harper planted her chin on her fist. “For some reason Max and Razor Bay are linked in my mind. Where did he come back from?” It was all she could do not to squirm in her seat. For the first time since she’d taken over the job of assessing grant applicants for Sunday’s Child, she felt a hint of shame for pretending ignorance. God knows she’d thoroughly studied the foundation-generated dossiers on every Cedar Village board member.

Still, she had a job to do. And much as it bothered her to be duplicitous with Tasha and Jenny, her friends would likely find it odd if she
didn’t
show an interest.

“He spent years in the Marines—mostly in war-torn countries.” Tasha gave her head an impatient shake, her curls quivering with the motion. “But he’s been back for years, and as I said, I can’t think of a woman he’s ever paid special attention to. Not that I don’t see him talking to different ones occasionally, but it’s usually more like they’re talking to him and he’s mostly just listening. I don’t recall ever seeing him look as though he were
with
one of them, ya know?” She looked at Jenny. “Can you think of anyone?”

“Nope. I can’t put him with anyone, either. Which is odd, when you think about it. Because I know he’s kind of a lone wolf and all, but there’s sure as hell nothing asexual about him.”

“No shit,” Harper murmured.

Jenny grinned at her. “Oh, good, you do swear.”

She tilted her head slightly to study her friend. “And that’s a good thing?”

“It’s not good or bad—well, unless you’re one of those high school boys who can’t seem to string a sentence together without saying some variation of fuck every other word. It’s just that most everybody does to some extent, but since we’ve met, you’ve just been so damn...perfect.”

“I have not!”

“Yeah, you kind of have,” Tasha said. “You have gorgeous manners, amazing posture—did you go through childhood balancing books on your head or something?—and you always dress exactly right for the occasion. Plus, you sound educated and—let’s face it—rich girl when you speak.”