Some Like It Hot

by Susan Andersen

  Until the three girls showed up.

  They swam out to the float, and one by one hauled themselves up onto it. They had the look of sisters, all blonde, blue-eyed and pretty, ranging from around ten to maybe sixteen. Max couldn’t have said exactly what it was—the white straight teeth, the pricey-looking, well-made bathing suits?—but there was an air of privilege about them that suggested they probably came from money. And the minute they began pulling themselves out of the water, the boys quieted.

  For all the attention the oldest girl gave them, they might have been transparent. The middle girl, whom Max pegged for about fourteen, sent the boys covert glances but took her cue from her big sister. The youngest shot them an enormous, all-inclusive smile.

  “Hey,” she said, friendly as a puppy. “I’m Joely. These are my sisters Meeghan—” she indicated the middle sister “—and Brittany.”

  The boys returned her greeting and introduced themselves, but the disdain coming off the older sister made them subdued. Max feared that would soon be replaced by attitude, which he could already see brewing on Harry’s face. The fifteen-year-old’s sessions in anger management had barely ended, and Max feared that in a real life situation, he might not be able to recall all the coping mechanisms he’d learned to help deal with it. And if that happened, if the kid had an outburst, it would likely be the end of Jenny letting the Village use the inn’s facilities. He looked at Harper, hoping to hell she had an idea for saving the outing, because he was coming up blank.

  But he’d barely met her own concerned gaze when little Joely, with her megawatt smile, said, “Hey! Can you guys do this?” And she performed a handstand on the edge of the float that culminated in her flipping feet-first into the water.

  Like Harper and her cannonballs, it got the teens’ competitive juices flowing, and with the same speed that things had gotten deadly quiet, suddenly everyone was talking trash and catcalling. Soon they were trying to outdo each other. Jeremy, who tied with Malcolm for the most athletic of the boys, held his handstand, then lifted one hand a few inches off the decking, replanted it and lifted the other, before straightening both arms to flip himself into the canal.

  The tide had been steadily going out, and the water grew shallower, which soon put an end to tricks from the float. Instead, the kids started horsing around in the water, and the next thing Max knew, Joely was up on Malcolm’s shoulders and Owen was on Jeremy’s and the two were doing their best to push each other from their perch and into the water.

  “Oh, boy,” he muttered, thinking he should probably call a halt to it before it spiraled out of control and someone got hurt.

  But Harper laughed, grabbed him by the wrist, and started splashing toward the kids. “Let’s show them how it’s done.” She’d only gone a few steps, however, before she stopped and turned to him. “Why am I walking when I can be riding?” she demanded and smiled up at him, all burnished skin and white teeth in the sunlight. “Give me a hand up.”

  He ducked beneath the water and tapped her legs to move them farther apart. They were smooth against his hands and smoother still when he situated himself between them and came up out of the water with her on his shoulders.

  She whooped and clutched at his head. Water lapped his waist and, wrapping his hands around her thighs, he waded toward the kids in deeper water.

  Owen knocked Joely off Malcolm’s shoulders as they approached, and Max reached down to haul her to her feet, concerned again about stopping this. The girl merely laughed, however, as Malcolm plucked her up and swung her back up onto his shoulders.

  “We’re on their team,” Harper declared and grinned at the little blonde. “We girls gotta stick together.”

  For sheer brilliance, Joely’s return smile put the sun, which had finally quit playing hide-and-seek to come out in earnest, to shame.

  “You’re goin’ down, Ms. Summerville!” Owen crowed. “Me and Jeremy, we’re unstoppable! Plus, that means that we got Harry and Edward on our team.”

  “Ha! Prepare to drink brine!” she replied. “Because we’ve got both brawn—” she gave Max’s shoulder a pat and Joely followed suit on Malcolm’s “—and brains.” With a modest twirl of her hand, she indicated herself and the little girl.

  “’Scuse me?” Max squeezed the firm thighs beneath his hands. “You’re the brains and I’m the brawn?”

  She gripped a handful of his hair to tilt his head back and leaned over to grin upside down in his face. One of her breasts flattened against his skull. “I know! Perfect, right?”

  Hell, yeah. She could bill herself any way her little heart desired. He was just happy to have her legs draped around his neck and her smile directed his way. Tearing his gaze away, he quirked his brows at the boys. “Let the games begin.”

  “And may the odds be ever in your favor!” Owen grinned at the laugh The Hunger Games line got him.

  The next thirty minutes were among the top five best half hours of his life. There was just something about hot sun, cold saltwater, mostly blue skies and laughing kids.

  And Harper. Because, face it, a large part of his enjoyment stemmed from her. She had a real knack for fun, for making the people around her feel as if they were a part of something special. And that was in addition to having his hands on her sleek legs, feeling her weight shift and her skin rub against his as she hand wrestled their opponents. That and hearing her laugh, loudly and from the belly, not only when she won a round but when she got knocked from his shoulders into the water...well, it made for a damn good time. Especially when she squeezed those thighs around his head.

  It made him wish he could swivel it a hundred and eighty degrees like Linda Blair in that old classic movie, The Exorcist. Okay, she had done an actual three-sixty. Sue him if he had a few stops along the way in mind.

  Which was not a smart thing to be contemplating, surrounded as he was by all these kids. Because pretty soon they’d have to vacate the cold water, and the fact that he was half-hard probably wasn’t what he wanted the boys—and sure as hell not that sweet little girl, who had informed them she was eleven-and-a-half years old—to see.

  “Joely!” snapped big sister Brittany from the shore where she and the other one—Meeghan—had moved to lie on beach towels a while ago. She eyed the younger girl sourly over the towel she was in the midst of folding. “C’mon. We’re going back to the inn.”

  “Go on without me,” Joely called. “Tell Mom I’ll be in in a while.”

  “No.” Brittany’s voice brooked no resistance. “You come with us now.”

  Joely sighed and gave one of Malcolm’s dreads a tug. Reaching up, he plucked her off his shoulders, then set her gently on her feet in the water. Left with no excuse to keep Harper on his own, with a regretful slide of his hands down her smooth legs, Max squatted so she could climb off, as well.

  The little blonde looked up at Malcolm, then around at the rest of them. “Playing with you guys is the most fun I’ve had all week,” she said with a sweet smile. Rushing over, she gave Harper a fierce hug. Then she turned and waded slowly toward the beach.

  Malcolm watched her until she joined her sisters. “That’s one seriously fly little dudette.”

  “No shit,” Owen agreed, and Jeremy added, “You ask me, she got all the personality in that family.”

  “You know what, guys?” Harper waded up to the boys. “I am so proud of you. You all were great today, and you can bet I’m passing that along to Jenny.”

  “Who’s Jenny?” Edward asked.

  “She runs this inn.” Harper quirked a brow. “In other words, the woman who says if you get to come back again or not.”

  “And you’re gonna tell her we were great?”

  “I am. I’m going to tell her that you were super great. Times infinity great.”

  “Excellent.” Edward nodded. “Then we’re proud of you, too.”

  * * *

  LATER THAT DAY, Harper organized a volleyball game, finished up a tide pool exploration she’d held for a group
of kids and headed up to her cabin to make some private calls. Her first was to Max’s place of employment.

  She’d never been so aware of a man as when she’d sat on his shoulders and felt the hot grip of his hands on her thighs, the shift of solid muscles beneath her legs, her butt. At one point, he’d turned his head just as she’d tightened the grip of her legs around his neck, and rough stubble had scraped her inner thigh. She was more accustomed to smooth-shaven men—Max included, at least when he was in uniform. But there was just something very sexy about that coarse rasp of prickly hair against soft skin.

  “Razor Bay Sheriff’s Office,” a voice said in her ear as her call was answered.

  She gave her head a shake and wrested it back to the matter at hand. “Hi, is this Ms. Alverez?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “You probably don’t know me, but I’m Harper Summerville, the activities—”

  “I do know who you are,” the woman interrupted. “This is Razor Bay, honey—everyone knows, or at least knows about, everyone else. And call me Amy. What can I do for you?”

  “Direct me to the person who schedules personnel days off, please?”

  “That would be me.” Harper could almost hear the other woman’s shrug over the airwaves. “This isn’t exactly a metropolitan branch of the sheriff’s department. So, at the risk of repeating myself, what can I do for you?”

  “Schedule a day, or at least an evening off for Max Bradshaw.” She gave the dispatcher the date.

  A beat of silence went by, then... “Excuse me? Max always works his birthday.”

  No. That was just plain wrong. But she shook off the instinctual displeasure that stabbed her upon hearing it and merely said in a mild tone, “Not this year, hopefully. I’m planning a surprise party for him, and it’d be just too sad if the surprise was on me because he had to work. On his birthday.”

  “It totally would,” Alverez agreed. “I’m changing it right now, because that’s the coolest thing I’ve heard in a month of Sundays. Max is one of the good guys, and I swear it seems as if nobody ever does anything for him. And you don’t have to worry that I’ll spoil the surprise. I can come up with a logical reason for the switch.” There was a tiny pause, then: “It just so happens that I have that night off, myself. Can my husband and I come, too?”

  “Yes! That would be brilliant! And, please, if you know anyone else who’d like to attend, let me know. I’m just getting started on this, so I don’t have any details for you yet. But I’ll let you know as soon as I get organized.”

  Once they disconnected, she switched gears and gave the party’s venue some thought. She’d really had it in mind to hold it at Max’s place, but the truth was, it would be damn difficult to pull off. He was in law enforcement, for pity’s sake; how likely was he to leave his place wide open while he worked long hours in a highly visible job? And even if he did, how would they get him back there again?

  Okay, she could probably utilize Jake for that. Given the way the half brothers razzed each other, he’d no doubt be all over pulling the wool over his brother’s eyes. But even if he managed it, the cat would be out of the bag the moment Max saw a bunch of cars parked in his yard. Hell, as a deputy he probably knew a lot of them by sight.

  What they really needed was a location where a number of vehicles wouldn’t seem out of place. Someplace like...

  Oh. Harper snapped upright. “That just might work,” she murmured. “It might actually be perfect, in fact.” Glancing at her watch, she smiled. She had almost an hour and a half before her yoga class. She grabbed her keys and started for the door.

  * * *

  IT SEEMED LIKE mere minutes later that she was letting herself into the reception room fronting Mary-Margaret’s office. She’d barely crossed the threshold, however, before she realized no one was around. About-facing, she headed down to the building where the kids spent a great deal of their indoor time. She’d been coming out here enough to understand that where the kids were, Mary-Margaret was likely to be found nearby.

  When she reached the game room, she poked her head in and asked the boys inside if anyone had seen the director. Moments later, following their directions, she turned right where her corridor intersected another. Her gaze was on the open door of an office at the end of the hall when she heard a boy’s mumble, then Max’s deep voice, coming from within the room she’d just passed. She came to a halt, her heart inexplicably picking up its pace.

  All right, so maybe there was no real mystery to the sudden thud-thud-thud against her rib cage. God knew she was seriously attracted to the big deputy. She took several slow steps backward.

  And heard Max say in his brusque, matter-of-fact way, “You don’t have a damn thing to apologize for, and you’re sure as hell no baby. You lost your mom, kid. Of course you’re gonna cry sometimes.”

  Peering through the barely cracked open door, all she could see of Max was his big hand rubbing slow circles on the seated teen’s back. Nathan, an anger management kid who was having a tough go of his therapy, sat slumped over a wooden worktable, his head buried in the arms he’d crossed atop it. As she watched, the teen lifted his head. He turned it in Max’s direction and through the gap between door and lintel, she saw wet silvery streaks of tears down his cheeks.

  “I miss her so much,” he said, and the crack in his voice raised tears to her own eyes.

  “Hell, yeah.” Max’s hand lifted from the boy’s back to give Nathan’s hair a rough stroke from crown to nape, which he gave a squeeze before dropping his hand. “I bet you do. It’s only been—what?—two months since she died?”

  Voice stronger—and harder—the teen snapped, “Tell that to my old man. He thinks it’s time I snapped out of it. Started actin’ like a man.”

  Harper watched the boy’s jaw jut out rebelliously. From the set of his shoulders, however, it was fairly clear he was braced for either condemnation or we-must-learn-to-get-along therapistlike advice.

  “He’s an idiot.”

  “Yeah, well, you try living with hi—” Cutting himself off, Nathan stared up at Max, and Harper wished she could see whatever he saw, but Max was behind the solid panel of the door. “What?”

  “I know I probably shouldn’t say that, because I’m pretty sure the counselors would have my head for dissing someone else’s parent. But your dad is wrong if he thinks he can dictate the timetable for anyone’s grieving process but his own.”

  “If he’s even grieving at all,” Nathan muttered.

  There was a beat of silence, then Max said, “Were your folks divorced?”

  The boy shook his head.

  “Separated or fighting all the time?”

  “No, man. I thought they were solid.” He pushed back from the table and sat back. “That’s why I’m so pissed at him. If they were okay, how can he just—I don’t know—bounce back so damn fast?”

  “I don’t know your father, but I do know that everyone handles death differently. If your parents seemed solid, they likely were. Trust me, even if your folks were trying to hide it, you’d have known it if something was off. So maybe trying to move on is just the way he deals, and he thinks it will work for you, too. Or maybe he was raised to suck it up when it comes to emotions.”

  “Yeah.” Nathan shifted forward. “My grandpa is a total hard-ass.”

  “So maybe you should ask your counselor to help you to talk to your dad about the way you feel about losing your mother.”

  Harper so wanted to jump in to tell the teen about the way she had felt when her father died. To share the gulf that had lain between her and her mother ever since his death.

  But this wasn’t about her, and not only would he likely be mortified to learn she knew he’d cried, but it wasn’t as if she had a solution to impart. Much as she loved her mother, they were still worlds apart.

  So, blowing out a soft breath, she tiptoed past the door once again and went to find Mary-Margaret.

  But remembering the comment the director had made the day
they met about how the boys related to Max because of his rough childhood, and the certainty in Max’s voice just now when he’d told Nathan that kids recognized dysfunction within their family, she made a promise to herself.

  First opportunity she got, she was totally asking Max to tell her more about himself.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  DAYS LATER, WHILE telling Mary-Margaret about the discounts she’d negotiated for the Village with several more Razor Bay retailers, it occurred to Harper that her mother hadn’t called to break the news that their grant application had been approved.

  She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten to follow up on it. During her first two visits to the compound after giving her mom the go-ahead, she’d fully expected to hear the news and share in the excitement. But that hadn’t happened, and somehow, between one thing and another, it had drifted from her mind.

  Clearly, Mary-Margaret had yet to hear. If she had, Harper was pretty darn sure every employee and volunteer at the Village would’ve spread the news by now.

  Pulling her phone from her purse as soon as she entered the parking lot a short while later, she called the foundation.

  Her mother’s assistant put her on hold. Unlocking her car, she threw her purse on the passenger seat and was leaning against the car when Gina finally picked up. “Hey, darling. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  Harper had been raised from the cradle to always, always be polite and diplomatic. And still she heard herself demand, “What the hell, Mom? You haven’t told Cedar Village yet that we approved their application? You said you’d call them the day after we talked!”

  Silence throbbed in her ear long enough for her to reconsider her words and the inflection with which she’d spoken them. Then her mother’s voice, several degrees cooler than it had been an instant ago, said, “Your Grandmama Summerville would spin in her grave to hear that tone in your voice, young lady.”

  “I’m sorry.” Well, she was...and she wasn’t. For a generously sized part of her didn’t feel at all apologetic. It merely muttered rebelliously.