"For over five months, Sterling has been parking himself on that corner stool, asking you out so politely it should've worn a hole in the floor, and last night, you finally said yes." Tara picked up her tray and grinned. "It is about freaking time."
"How do you even know?"
Tara's grin widened. "Fletcher, Dane's oldest boy, was in the parking lot with his little brother skipping stones with Marisol's kids and saw your moment with Sterling under the moon and stars. Marisol told her sister, who told the woman at the post office, who told the entire line waiting to mail packages this morning, including my mother, who called me an hour ago to ask if it was true."
Juniper picked up a clean towel and started polishing a rocks glass that didn't need polishing. "It wasn't a moment."
"He kissed your cheek." Tara leaned closer. "I don't think I've ever seen Sterling kiss anyone."
"Take your tray and go," Juniper said.
"Crab Shack. Seven o'clock. I wouldn't be surprised if we have a slow night tonight."
"That's not funny."
"You're right, it's hilarious." Tara scurried away before Juniper had the chance to retort.
Not that she had anything good to say, so she went back to cleaning and polishing glasses.
Seven o'clock. A date. The first one in years.
Since Mark had died. He'd been a good man, the kind of good that had surprised her and kept on surprising her. And one Tuesday morning, he'd gone to make a raid. It was a joint effort with the ATF and DEA, but Mark and four other agents hadn’t made it back that day. She'd been thirty-four years old and a widow before she'd even figured out how to be a wife.
Six months ago, she'd flown into Fort Myers with a single suitcase and a cover story. She'd come to a town she'd never heard of, walked into a pub with a colorful history that included a previous owner who'd been running drugs through the Everglades, and signed her name on papers that made her the legal owner of every cracked tile and sticky stool inside it. All that waited for her back in Maryland was a condo in Bethesda that she barely remembered what it looked like.
Six months later, she couldn't remember the last time she'd thought about it without effort.
The bell above the front door chimed.
She glanced up out of habit, expecting a regular, or maybe hoping it was Sterling there to pick up the Aegis Network lunch order.
But instead, a stranger strolled through the door.
He was tall. Six-three, six-four, broad through the chest and lean through the waist. The kind of build that came from years of being physical rather than working out in a gym. He wore khaki cargo pants, a fitted gray T-shirt, and a pair of brown boots worn soft at the toes.
His hair was dark blond, cut close on the sides and longer on top, the way men cut their hair when they wanted to look civilian without committing to it.
He paused inside the door, glanced around, and then strolled to the bar, taking the fourth seat in from the wall. He hadswagger, and a vibe that made Juniper's hackles stand at attention.
Military. Cop. Alphabet agency. Or something else. It was the something else that worried her. That was what she'd been put in this bar to look out for.
Tara, mid-cross to her four-top, swung her head and nearly walked into a chair. She might have done that on purpose, Juniper couldn't be sure, but she'd seen Tara do it once or twice when attractive strangers entered the pub.
"Sweet Jesus on a Tuesday," Tara muttered as she passed. "He's hot."
"He's overstated." Juniper set the rocks glass down, picked up a fresh one and the water pitcher, and went to work. "Afternoon," she said. "I'm Juniper, owner of this fine establishment. What can I get you?"
"Wow. The owner. Impressive." The gentleman smiled wide.
"Not really," she said. "I'm here most days working right alongside everyone else." She poured some water and pushed a menu across the bar.
"I'm Doyle, and this is fine for now." He had a voice that matched the rest of him. Easy, warm, with a faint rasp underneath, like a man who'd had too many late nights and too many cigarettes. "I need a minute with the menu."
"Take your time." She waved her hand. "Specials are on the chalkboard," she said. "Grouper sandwich is the one to beat. Gumbo's good today."
"What's in the grouper sandwich?" He peered over the top of the menu.
"Grouper," she said.
