Some Like It Hot

by Susan Andersen

  “I want to—it gives me an excuse to step outside for a breath of fresh air. Hey, did I tell you I got a renter for my apartment?”

  “No. I know you were worried about the loss of rent.” Reaching the pizzeria’s front door, she held it open for her friend. “That must be a giant relief.”

  “It is. And Will, the guy you met the day he gave notice, actually came up with his replacement.”

  “Handy.”

  “No fooling. It’s some guy named Luke...uh—” She blinked. “Huh. I have no idea what his last name is. I plugged the numbers and dates into a standard contract and had Will fill out the rest. He even mailed it for me.” She shrugged. “Oh, well. I’ll find out when it comes back. Anyway, how bad could he be—he’s Will’s college roommate. Apparently, he just left a government job and has some relatives he wants to catch up with in the area.”

  “And if he’s anything like Will—” Harper let her voice trail off, but thinking back to the one time she’d met Tasha’s current renter she could only remember that he was a quiet man with forgettable features. So forgettable, she doubted she could describe him accurately if she had to.

  “Exactly.” Tasha grinned. “If the new guy’s anything like Will, he’ll be the perfect substitute. And it’s only a ninety-day lease.”

  “Are you okay with that?”

  “Longer would be better, of course, but this gets me through the end of the year, and mid-November through the first full week of January is the pizzeria’s slowest time. When things start to lag I’ll have time to start spreading the word for the upcoming year.” She unloaded the pizzas into the trunk Harper popped for her, efficiently rearranged them for transport, then closed the lid. Giving it a final pat, Tasha straightened and turned to her. “So, you and Max are good now?”

  “We are. Once we got over our original mad on with each other, we straightened things out pretty quickly. He’s even helping me at the Give a Parent a Break movie event at the inn tonight.”

  “Are you serious? How on earth did you talk him into that?”

  Harper shot her friend a cocky smile. “You are looking at a girl with advanced social skills, luv. Ad-vanced. Social. Skills.”

  “I guess so, if you talked him into babysitting a room full of screaming kids.”

  “Oh, no. I’ve got all sorts of activities planned to keep these kids entertained. Trust me. There will be no screaming tonight.”

  * * *

  MAX HAD TO raise his voice to be heard over the little girls racing by trailing screams in their wake that could strip brass off the door hinges. “How the hell did I let you talk me into this?”

  “I have advanced social sk—excuse me a moment.” Stepping back, she brought a whistle he hadn’t noticed hanging from a lanyard around her neck to her lips. And blew. The sound bounced off the walls and brought every kid in the joint to a standstill to stare at her.

  “Who wants pizza?” she asked, and when shrill shrieks of excitement promptly filled the air, she blew the whistle again, chopping yells off midscreech. “Look around you, boys and girls,” she said, twirling her hands to indicate the suite they were using for the evening. Her voice was soft and low, making the noise level drop even further as the dozen or so kids leaned forward to hear. “We’re using our indoor voices tonight. Becaaaause—?”

  “We’re indoors,” several of the younger children, who hadn’t yet developed a need to act cool, responded.

  “That’s right! So, line up and we’ll get some food. No pushing, boys,” she added for the benefit of two preteens who had started to do just that.

  They gave her sheepish smiles and fell in line, and Max shook his head. She did have amazing social skills, and it clearly wasn’t age dependent.

  They’d eaten, played a couple of games and were maybe ten minutes into a Pixar flick that appealed to all ages when his cell rang. Seeing that it was work, he whispered a quick, “I’ll be back,” and stepped into the bedroom portion of the room and closed the door. “Hey, Amy, what’s up?”

  “I just had a call from a man asking for your number. He said it was about your father.”

  Max’s heart gave a thump so hard he was surprised no one yelled at him from the other room to keep it down. For a second his mind went blank.

  She said into the pool of silence, “I told him I’d get in touch with you—and if you wanted to talk to him, you’d call back.”

  “Thanks, Amy. What’s his name?”

  “Uh, that’s the thing, Max,” she said. “He said his name is Luke...Bradshaw.”

  “Christ.”

  “That was kinda my response, as well. You have an uncle or some cousins you don’t know about?”

  “As far as I know, Charlie was an only child. Like me—and Jake.” A bark of unamused laughter escaped him. “But that says it right there, doesn’t it? For all I know, the two of us could have enough half siblings to make our own baseball team.” He rummaged through the drawer of the desk and pulled out a sheet of the inn letterhead and a pen. “I take it you got his number?”

  “Yeah. You ready to copy?”

  “I am.”

  Amy dictated it to him, then said, “And apparently the first name is spelled L-U-C.” Her voice turned ironic. “Must be from a more hoopdy-do-dah town than the Bay.”

  He thanked her for the call and disconnected. For a moment he simply stared down at the black ink phone number—and more importantly, name—on the cream stationery. Then he gave his head a sharp shake to get his brain cells moving again. He punched the numbers into his phone and hit Call.

  It was answered on the first ring.

  “This is Bradshaw,” said a voice almost as deep as his own.

  “What a coincidence,” he replied. “So is this.”

  There was a second of silence. Then: “Are you Deputy Max Bradshaw?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I was hoping to hear from you.”

  He decided he might as well get to the point. “My dispatcher said you were calling about Charlie Bradshaw. What’s your relationship?”

  “He’s my father.”

  “Jesus.” He had no business being surprised, given Charlie’s history. But...Jesus. Scrubbing his fingers over the pang in his heart, he blew out a breath. “Are you it, then? Or are there more half siblings?”

  “I’m an only child. At least that’s what I thought.”

  “So what number wife was your mom?”

  “Third. Third and—” He cleared his throat. “Look, could we meet? I don’t know if you know about Jake Bradshaw, but—”

  “Yeah, I do. Where you calling from?”

  “I’ve got a room at the Oxford Suites in a town called Silverdale.”

  “That’s about fifteen minutes from here.” Max issued succinct directions to Razor Bay. “When you get here, go to The Anchor—it’s a bar on Eagle Road, which is the street behind Harbor in what passes for our downtown. I’ll hunt Jake down and we’ll be over.”

  Surprise colored the other man’s voice. “He’s in Razor Bay, too? I called National Explorer magazine’s headquarters, but they wouldn’t tell me how to contact him.”

  “Yeah. He lives here now.”

  “Okay. I’ll meet you at The Anchor.”

  “How will I know you?” It shouldn’t feel odd not to know what this supposed half brother looked like, since until five minutes ago he hadn’t even known the guy existed. Yet somehow it did.

  “I’m six-two, have black hair and I’m wearing a red-and-black running shirt.”

  Feeling slightly dazed, Max returned to the living room of the suite and picked his way over lounging kids—one of whom was sound asleep—until he was in Harper’s line of sight. Catching her eye, he jerked his chin.

  She rose off the couch and came to meet him. He pulled her out into the corridor.

  “I’ve gotta go.” He hesitated, then said. “I just got a call from a guy claiming to be another half brother.” He scrubbed his temples with his fingers. Gave her a baffle
d look. “Another Bradshaw. I didn’t have a clue, Harper. Well, I guess there were a couple of half-assed rumors back when my dad left town. People said he was with a woman and a boy, but no one knew if he was Charlie’s.” He shrugged. “And, hell, I was in grade school, so what did I know?”

  “Oh, my gosh, Max!” She rubbed his arm. “Are you okay?”

  “I honest to God don’t know. I mean, I am. But I’m kind of overwhelmed, ya know?”

  “Of course you are.”

  “I’m going to track down Jake and go meet this guy at The Anchor. Jesus.” He rubbed his hand over his head. “I wonder how many more half siblings I have out there. As history proves, my father wasn’t exactly in-it-for-the-long-haul material.”

  “Even if there are more out there, all you can do is take it a situation at a time. So, go find Jake and meet your new brother.”

  “Half brother.”

  Harper gave him a little smile. “That’s exactly what you said about Jake when I first met you. But I haven’t heard you refer to him as anything but brother lately.”

  It was true that he did think of Jake as a brother now. Still—

  “I’ve known Jake most of my life. Maybe we didn’t get along until this spring, but we at least have history. I’ve got nothing with this guy.”

  Her expression was soft. “What’s his name?”

  “Luc.”

  “Really? Tasha was just telling me she has a new short-term renter named Luc who’s going to take Will’s apartment when he leaves next week. In fact, he’s in town to—” Maybe seeing he wasn’t paying the strictest attention, she waved the interruption aside. “That’s not important right now. Go break the news to Jake and the two of you meet Luc. Maybe you’ll end up forging a relationship with him, too. But even if you don’t, you must be curious.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I am that.” He bent to kiss her. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Come to my place when you’re done, or at least give me a call. I’m dying to hear how it goes.”

  “I will.” He rubbed his thumb across her lower lip, then turned and left.

  * * *

  LUCKILY, JAKE WAS home, but when he opened his door, Max simply stood there for a minute.

  “Well?” his brother demanded. “You got something on your mind, or did you just stop by to admire my manly beauty?”

  He didn’t even snort at the absurdity. “There’s a guy in town says he’s Charlie’s son,” he said flatly. “He wants to meet us.”

  Jake stilled. Then he hitched his shoulders in an elegant shrug. “I don’t know why I’m surprised,” he said. “Yet, somehow I am.”

  “Tell me about it. We’re meeting him at The Anchor. Grab your wallet. You can buy.”

  Since Jake never did anything in a hurry, it was another fifteen minutes before they walked through The Anchor’s door.

  “Black hair, red-and-black shirt,” Max muttered, looking around. “You see anyone besides the Latino guy who matches that description? Oh. Wait.” He watched as Latino Guy looked straight at him and jerked his chin in acknowledgment. “Huh. Looks like he’s our man. Didn’t see that coming—I was looking for another you.”

  “Please,” Jake murmured. “They threw away the mold after they made me.”

  The man slid out of the booth he’d been occupying as they crossed the bar. His skin was similar in shade to Harper’s, except where hers was creamy, his was more golden-brown. The black hair he’d mentioned on the phone was cut very close to his head, perhaps to curb the curl, and the grooves bracketing his mouth looked as if they might evolve into dimples when he smiled.

  Apparently, they’d have to wait for another day to find out, because New Bradshaw watched them as they walked up to the booth and didn’t offer so much as a token smile when they arrived. He merely said, “Hey,” and subjected them both to a quick study that reminded Max of every cop he’d ever worked with. “I’m Lucas—I go by Luc.” He did, however, thrust out a long, lean hand.

  Guy had a mean grip, too—Max had to admire that at least. He was reserving judgment about the rest until he got some measure of the man. “I’m Max. This is my brother Jake.”

  Luc indicated the booth with a tilt of his angular jaw. “Why don’t we sit down.”

  They slid into the booth, Luc on one side and he and Jake on the other. They’d barely settled when the waitress showed up, tossed down a couple cardboard coasters and placed a Fat Tire in the bottle in front of Jake and a pilsner of Ridgetop Red in front of Max.

  “Elise said she might as well save us all some time,” the woman said, referring to the bartender. “You want me to run ya a tab?”

  “Yeah, that’d be good,” Jake said. “Thanks, Sally.”

  When she walked away, the three men simply looked at one another for a moment. Then Luc blew out a breath.

  “This is harder than I thought it would be,” he said, taking a sip of his beer, then setting his schooner down. “I’ve been searching for you ever since Dad died and I found out I had brothers.”

  “Charlie died?” Max demanded. Looking inward for a moment, he tried to figure out how he felt about that. It only took a seconds to realize that he felt...nothing. Nothing at all. It had been too long and too damn much water under the bridge. He glanced at Jake out of the corner of his eye.

  His brother must have been doing the same to him, because Max saw him essay the faintest of facial shrugs.

  “Yes,” Luc replied. “April eighteenth.”

  “How long did it take them to notify you?” Jake asked.

  “How lon—?” New Bradshaw’s dark brows came together, then he gave his head a faint shake and smoothed out his expression. “I was notified right away.”

  “Like right away, right away?” Max gave him a curious look. “How did you manage that?”

  “Uh, I’m...his son?”

  “So are we, bro.” Jake gave him a level look. “And yet here it is almost six months since his death, and this is the first either of us has heard it.”

  Luc shook his head. “Look, I’m guessing he was no kind of father to you—”

  Max snorted and Jake said, “Ya think?” under his breath.

  “—but he was a good dad to me.”

  “He didn’t leave you and your mom flat when he fell in love with some other woman?” Max asked.

  “No!”

  Jake raised a brow. “Didn’t go from being the greatest dad in the world to ignoring your very existence?”

  “No, Jesus.” He slowly set down his beer. “He did that? To both of you?”

  “Yes.” Jake’s voice was hard. “At least he had the decency to leave town when he did it to me—so I didn’t have to watch my perfect-up-until-then father cut me out of his life at every turn. Max had to live in Razor Bay when Charlie left Max’s mom for mine. He was a great dad to me while it lasted, but Max might as well have been invisible, so thoroughly did our so-called dad ignore and look right through him.”

  Something about Jake’s statement felt like the real mess-with-my-brother-you-mess-with-me kind of defense they’d never shared as kids. It probably made him too juvenile for his jeans that he loved how squarely Jake was on his side, but you’d just have to excuse the hell outta him if it did. Because, face it, they’d found themselves at war for far too many years. Feeling all warm and fuzzy, he bumped his shoulder against his brother’s.

  “Dammit, Max, you made me spill my beer.” Jake set his bottle back on the coaster and blotted the drops around his mouth with the back of his hand. But he shot him a slight, lopsided smile.

  Max raised a see what I have to put up with eyebrow at Luc. “He’s always had a slight drinking problem.” Then he got serious. “So, what you’re saying is that Charlie stayed with your mom and raised you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And never said a word about Jake or me?” Not that that was a big wedgie of surprise.

  “I didn’t know anything about you two until I started going through his stuff.” Luc scrubbed his
hands over his face, then dropped them to press against the scarred tabletop. “My mom died a couple of years ago,” he said in a low voice to his whitening fingertips, “and it was just Dad and me. My work often took me away for long blocks of time, but he sure as hell had enough time to fill me in on the fact that I had a couple of half brothers.” The dark eyes he raised to them were baffled. “He never said a word.”

  “Yeah, Jake and I know a little something about that.” He looked the new Bradshaw half brother over. “You were in the picture when Charlie left Razor Bay with your mom. Or at least some kid was.”

  “That was me.”

  “I’m just trying to figure out the timeline. You look about my age. Did he adopt you or is he your father by blood?”

  “Blood. I don’t know how old you are—I’m thirty-five.”

  “I just turned thirty-four, so clearly Charlie didn’t let any grass grow under his feet between your mother and mine.”

  “My folks always made their love affair sound like a star-crossed lovers’ story. Mom got pregnant with me, but her dad, who was a very traditional Argentinean, butted in. He didn’t tell my dad—Charlie—that she was expecting, but he did tell him that she didn’t want to see him anymore. He told my mom the same thing—that Dad didn’t want to see her. Dad married someone else—”

  “A couple someones,” Jake murmured.

  “Then they bumped into each other when he was in San Clemente, where I grew up, on business. And that, they always said, was that.” He killed off his beer. “But I can see it wasn’t all that. Not for you guys.” He knuckled a drop of beer off his lower lip. “Look, I grew up an only child, no cousins or anything. And when I found out I finally had some family, I wanted to meet them. But if my being here is just going to dredge up bad memories, I understand if you’d rather not get to know me.” He swept his change off the table and lifted a hip to drop it into his front pocket. The dollar bills still on the table he pushed to the middle, then slid toward the end of the bench.

  “Oh, sit down,” Jake said. “Don’t get your shorts all in a wad. ’Course we want to get to know you. Well, I do, at least. Max here tends to be resistant to change.”