"Reptiles don't count."
"Tell them that. They'll be offended." He winked, then touched his back pocket, where the folded notice burned a hole in his ass. "Besides, I've got bigger problems."
“Are you talking about the Hendersons? Because it hasn’t gone unnoticed that they’re right over there.”
“No. Not them. Though they are a little relentless. But I think I finally have them understanding that Mallor’s Landing is not for sale.”
“I hope so,” Dove said. “I want you to know that I still haven’t given up on finding the intruder from your mother’s funeral. I’ve been looking into Karl. He’s shady, but for some reason people like him.”
“He’s got charisma.” Trent chuckled. “Dawson hasn’t been able to find a single clue, and nothing else has happened since—including the fact I haven’t heard from Karl, although that doesn’t mean anything.”
“The whole thing still bothers me. People don’t show up to spy on a funeral and then duck and run.”
He pulled out the flyer and handed it to her. “I’m more concerned about this.”
“What is this about?”
"Blasting. Excavation. Destruction of the Glades.” The words came out flat. "They'll gut the whole ecosystem. Kill everything that can't run fast enough. Then they'll leave, and whoever's still around will spend the next fifty years trying to undo the damage. And a former US Marshal who was on my father’s case, now running for office, is promoting it.”
“Wait. First, aren’t the Everglades protected from this? And how do you know this politician protected your dad?”
“My mom told me one night when Stacey, the vulture, was reporting on it. I don't like it, never have, but now they want to do it right next to Mallor’s landing.”
“What can you do?”
“There's a public hearing in a few days. The company will lay out its plan. Talk about environmental impact assessments. Economic growth. The overall need for what they are doing. They’ll probably hand in their request for permits and all that bullshit.” He glanced around the bar. At all the people he'd known most of his life. The people who loved this town and no matter how poor and backwards Calusa Cove was, they still wanted it to stay exactly the same. "I'll fight them. I don't care if it takes everything I have. They're not touching the Glades, or anything near my land.”
"Good."
He blinked. "Good?"
"You needed something to grab a hold of and fight for.” She squeezed his arm once, then let go. "Grief is easier when you've got somewhere to put the anger."
He stared at her. This woman, who hated gators and loved guns, and somehow kept showing up exactly when he needed someone to push back against.
"That's surprisingly wise," he said.
"I have my moments."
"Rare as they are."
"Watch it, Mallor."
Dove's expression eased as she leaned into him again. “I stopped by your house yesterday.”
Trent blinked, and his pulse did a little dance in his wrist. “Really? Keep doing that and I might think you have an ulterior motive.”
“You’ve been withdrawn, and I promised your mom I’d check on you.” She pursed her lips. “So, get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Kind of hard not to go there,” he said slowly. “I mean, you don’t like coming to my place. With the water. And the gators."
She grimaced. "They hissed at me."
"They hiss at everyone."
"Not like that. One of them did that thing where they puff up and make that sound?—"
"Bellowing."
