"Mentally."
"That's the strangest thing I've ever heard."
"You're going to be working more at Aegis, so get used to it." Sterling tore his gaze from Juniper, and it landed on Trent as he strolled through the bar with a protective arm around Dove. Trent looked like a walking cliché of trouble. He had long, wavy, wild hair and a perpetual five o'clock shadow. He was thick muscled, and tall. When he entered a room, the people in it parted like the Red Sea. Not because anyone was in awe of Trent, though he was impressive with the way he spoke to alligators, and how they listened, but because he was just a massive presence.
Trent pulled back a stool and helped Dove up onto the seat. They were an odd couple. Trent lived for his land and the gators that fed off it. Dove was a hard-ass who didn't let anyone in and preferred bullets to anything soft and comfortable.
"I bet Fallon comes back pregnant from this honeymoon," Dove said.
"My money says she's already pregnant." Cullen tapped his fingers on the counter to the beat of the music. "But doesn't want to tell anyone until she's showing." He waved a finger. "That's how my ex played it. Drove me crazy. I'd go out with my buddies, open my mouth to say something and realize, shit, can't say that because then they'd know."
"Buddy will be a good father," Trent said. "Fallon as a mom? That's questionable." He laughed.
"At least she won't call her child Scutelet." Dove poked Trent's arm.
"It's a nickname. And a damn good one." Trent rubbed his biceps.
"You keep calling our child that, and I'm naming your replacement."
"Hey," Trent said. "That's not nice."
"Hush, Mallor," Dove said. "Sense my tone."
Trent opened and closed his mouth three times. Sterling wanted to laugh. Trent was a man who would shove his arm up to the elbow into the mouth of a python without breaking a sweat. Going quiet because his five-foot-five fiancée told him to, that was priceless.
Okay, so she was an army sniper, but still, classic.
The shutter door swung open, and a man wearing a linen blazer the color of sand strolled in. Damn jacket didn't have a single wrinkle. Amazing and impossible at the same time in Sterling's world.
This man didn't fit in. And not just because of his pressed jacket. His loafers, which were so clean, they had probably never seen a boat deck, were that ugly salmon color that Southwest Florida seemed to love. And his rose-gold watch caught the light off the bottles.
Behind him, a second man in a polo hung back by the door. At first glance, he looked like the kind of man who carried golf bags and said nothing.
It was rare that kind of money walked into Juniper's. At least that kind of display of wealth. There were a few people in Calusa Cove who had money, but they didn't flaunt it. Not with flashy things anyway. But they did give back to the community.
Sterling jumped off his stool. "Sorry, friend. Bar's closed tonight. Private party."
"Oh." The man stopped, took the room in with a gaze that was easy and unbothered. "Didn't know. My apologies." He pointed to a strand of paper bells over the far curve of the bar. "A wedding. Well, how nice. Who's the lucky couple?"
"None of your damn business," Silas said into his whiskey. "And we don't want you or your big-time shipping in here either. You pollute the water, you take jobs off local boats, and you don't give a single damn about anything but your own profit margin."
The man held up two fingers. "I came in for dinner and a drink. That's all."
"Pipe down, Silas." Sterling hadn't a clue as to what had crawled up Silas' ass. But there was a time and a place, and this wasn't it. "I apologize for my friend. But this is a private party." He nodded toward the door. "Crab Shack's open, though. It's over by the marina, two minutes up the road. Not sure what the special is tonight, but they have crab and a fresh fish catch of the day every night. I can tell you from experience, it's damn good."
"I appreciate that." The man dipped his head. "Royce Halloran."
Damn. Now Sterling knew what had gotten Silas all riled up. Halloran Maritime. The name was on the side of half the cargo hulls that ran the Gulf and a fair number of the editorials Silas clipped and brought into the bar to wave around and bitch about.
"Sterling Fox."
"Pleasure, Mr. Fox." Royce turned for the door but paused and glanced over his shoulder. "I was told Buddy Ballard from the Aegis Network tends to hold court in here. Since you're closed up, you think I'd catch him over at this Crab Shack tonight?"
That made the hair on Sterling's neck stand up. It also made Silas swivel his chair and Cullen drop his beer on the counter a little too loudly.
"Buddy's out of the office a few days." Sterling didn't move and didn't look toward the far curve where Buddy still stood with his face in Fallon's hair. "But I work for him. You want to talk Aegis business, I'm happy to sit down with you," Sterling said. "Tomorrow. During business hours. But right now, it's time for you to go."
Royce raised both hands. "Have a good night, Mr. Fox. I'll be in touch." Both men disappeared out into the darkness.
