Jed took his hand, taking in the soft British accent and weathered leather bracelets covering his strong forearm. “Jed Cooper, Nick’s brother. Kim said you might have a spare room?”
Max smiled, recognition washing over his features, but then he froze, blinked rapidly, and his bright eyes appeared to glaze over. The strange, vacant blip was brief, over in a split second before he came back into himself, but Jed was perturbed.
What the hell was that?
Max released his hand, the hands they both seemed to have forgotten were joined, and his grin widened like he didn’t have a care in the world. “You’reNick’s brother?”
Jed allowed himself a rueful smirk. Perhaps he’d imagined the whole thing. He was good at that these days. “Don’t hold it against me.”
Max laughed and rubbed his hand over his head. “I won’t. It’s… bloody hell, never mind. You don’t look anything like Nick, but I can see where Tess came from. I always wondered where she got her Goldilocks genes.”
“Can’t take credit for those chocolate button eyes, but the blonde is from my mom’s side.”
Max nodded. “Kim said the witches at the kindergarten thought you were her dirty little secret. Do you want to take a look around? There’s not much to see, but have at it.”
“Sure.” Jed pointed at the boat shed. “What’s in there?”
The fact that he wanted to see inside the boat shed first seemed to amuse Max, but he led the way inside without comment. Jed looked around the workshop, hiding his own bemused grin. One side, the side where Max ran a limited operation renovating small fishing boats, was tidy and well-ordered, but the other—the side where he designed and built custom furniture—was in complete chaos: tools, materials, sketched plans. The place was a mess, like it contained a split personality.
Jed took it all in. “This is your work?”
Max shrugged. “The furniture is my hobby. I don’t build enough to make any real money.”
“What about the boats? How did you wind up here doing that?”
“I don’t know how to do much else. My dad had a fishing boat in Poole. I spent every summer on it for a while.”
“Poole? Where’s that?”
“It’s a seaside town in England. We used to go there on holiday…um….” Max broke off and frowned, as though he’d said more than he should.
Jed felt his curiosity spike again, but he let it go. “Business good?”
“Some days.”
Jed looked beyond the tattered old couch and dog bed and pointed to an unvarnished oak dresser separated from the rest of the workshop. “Is that finished?”
“Nearly. It’s not for sale, though. It’s a wedding present. You know Dan Valesco, right?”
Jed nodded.
“His second cousin’s brother’s niece or some shit is getting married,” Max said. “I went to high school with her.”
“Ah, I see.” The Valesco family was huge. Jed had spent half his childhood in the bosom of their family home, and he’d never been able to keep track of the hordes of cousins. “You went to high school here?”
“Just my senior year. I never graduated, though.”
Jed raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t picture Max and his British accent in Ashton’s tiny, oppressive high school.
Let it go. He’s not a fucking jihadi.
Jed followed Max to the cabin. There wasn’t much to see inside, though the eccentricity of the décor amused him. The furnishings ranged from threadbare to downright flashy. The battered old stove and worn rugs didn’t fit with the flat-screen TVs and expensive lamps. Jed gestured to the sleek L-shaped leather couch. “What’s with all this?”
Max rolled his eyes. “Anything aesthetic is down to my sister, and probably cost more than I make all year. Anything crap is mine.”
Jed rather liked the intricate homemade stools by the window, and the rustic coffee table, but he held his tongue. Another man’s pride could be a complicated thing. A series of prints on the modest kitchen wall caught his eye. They were similar to the art he’d seen hidden away in Nick’s office. “Are these Congolese?”
Max raised an eyebrow, his open expression subtly shuttering up. “How can you tell?”