"Mr. Rogers? He doesn't seem the type."
"He's a man. He has a penis. He's the type," Dove said.
"That's stereotypical." Cullen glared. "And you do know you're describing your future husband, right?"
"Trent's excluded from that statement." Dove rubbed her belly. "As are the two of you, and Buddy, and okay, a few others in this town. Must be something in the water. But any man, or woman, for that matter, is capable of cheating. Just like anyone is capable of pulling the trigger, if they had to."
"That is the worst analogy I've ever heard," Sterling muttered.
"Yeah, well, whatever." Dove tapped the page. "But here's the part that's worth reading. The woman Rutger's having the affair with works for one of those small security outfits like his. But what's questionable is how easily Mia found it."
"Not really." Cullen frowned. "When a marriage is over, but no one is willing to admit it, then whoever's doing the cheating is more willing to take chances." He arched a brow. "Just ask my ex about that."
Sterling picked up the marker, moved to the board again, and wrote, under Rutgers, AFFAIR—SAVANNAH—WHO IS SHE. "Ask Mia to dig on that one."
"Already did," Dove said. "She's working on a name."
"I have to call Nick." He set the marker gently under the board and picked up his cell, checking the time. "And then I'm gonna go have some dinner and see if a pretty lady wants to have some ice cream with me after."
"I'd love to." Dove jumped to her feet.
Sterling glared. "Go home to your future husband."
"I'd rather spy on you." She smiled.
"Me too." Cullen stood, spun the chair, and shoved it behind the desk. "I'll call Harley. We'll all go to Juniper's for dinner."
"Do that, and I'll have all of you fired," Sterling mumbled, but he knew it was hopeless.
Chapter Nine
Juniper leaned against the back counter, hands loosely tucked into her jeans pockets and tried to relax. She didn't have too many rules when it came to the bar. However, there was one big one. Never let the locals bartend. That's what the previous owner had told her was the most important thing because once you let them step around that counter, they never left.
However, Sterling wasn't just any local. He washerlocal and the man she was technically dating. First person she'd dated since Mark died. The timing was all wrong. The situation even worse. But Sterling had wormed his way into her daily thoughts, and she didn't want to let go. Earlier, he'd gone and brought her an ice cream from the shop over by the marina without her even asking. She thought that had been so sweet.
Not just the treat, but the gesture.
"You're putting the pints with the rocks glasses," she said.
"I'm putting them where they fit." Sterling smiled before leaning in and kissing her cheek.
"I'm not tipping that man," Silas called from the other end of the bar. "I don't care if he made me a great whiskey sour. He doesn't work here."
"He does tonight." She chuckled. "And you're tipping me, not him."
"Hey, that's not fair." Sterling winked. "I think I deserve something."
She leaned in and patted his chest. "I'm letting you drive me home. That's something." And for her, it was more than the beginning of something. She was straddling the line between what was real and what was her assignment. What mattered to her heart and what she thought would allow her to survive.
"And walk you to the door and maybe be invited?—"
"Quit while you're ahead." On the other side of the bar, Dove pushed her water with lemon off to one side.
"Stop eavesdropping on other people's conversations." Sterling put away the last glass and leaned over the counter.
"Are you kidding? We've been a group all night." Dove shifted, moving Trent's hand to a different location.
When Juniper had come to this town, she'd been told not to play favorites, but that had proved to be impossible. She glanced around. Silas was packing up his stuff, along with his newest, but oldest best friend, Jack, Trent's dad.
