"He was one of the few people at our wedding."
Sterling's heart lurched into his throat. Nick was one of those guys that if Sterling had called him at three in the morning, he'd answer. If he’d needed to bury a body, Nick would tell Sterling to go home, and Nick would do it for him without asking questions. Nick would also stand up for someone like Mark and Juniper at awedding because Nick was just the kind of person who honored friendship for life.
Nick wore his emotions on his sleeve, but not the way others did. You didn't see them in puddles. You saw them in action. But Nick had been real broken up about Mark. That one had hit dead center in the chest.
"A year after that meeting." Sterling stared into the dark liquid, like it might help him find the right words. The easy words. The kind words. "Nick told me he'd lost a buddy." Sterling caught her gaze. "We'd both lost men. Hell, we'd been on missions together where we had to carry them out. But there was something in his voice that told me this one cut deeper." He took one more swallow, set the glass down and pushed off the sofa. "I know saying I'm sorry is shallow." He tapped his chest. "I sat with Mark for four hours, and I liked him better than men I'd served with for years. He was funny and sharp and so far gone over you it was almost rude."
She gasped as one hand went to her throat. "I remember," she whispered. "He didn't mention you by name. But he was tipsy, and he'd called me from a Lyft on his way home, saying he'd met a dude who knew Nick because everyone knew Nick. It was one of the things we laughed about on our first date. I told him to go home, sleep it off, and I'd see him later. He told me he was going to marry me. I laughed, but that night, I realized he was right. He proposed a few weeks later."
Sterling didn't know much about love, except that it was real and people he knew felt it bone deep. His parents had a great love affair. They were so adorable, it made him sick to his stomach half the time. They still held hands, stole kisses in public, and said they loved each other every day. Buddy and Fallon were so disgustingly in love that it was eyeroll-worthy. And Trent and Dove? Well, they were just different.
Love was a complication that Sterling couldn't afford and hadn’t wanted during his career with the CIA. Even after he’d moved on, he never once believed he'd been missing out on something. He'd never been envious of his friends. And he still wasn't. Maybe because somewhere, over the last few months, he'd fallen in love with Juniper.
He didn't know exactly when it had happened. But there was no question in his mind, or heart, that he loved her. It didn't matter that she probably—definitely—didn't feel the same way. For the first time in his life, he knew what love was. And the woman he loved was hurting.
He opened his arms, and she stepped right into them. Her forehead hit his chest, and he cradled her head, kissing the top of it.
"What were you and Mark talking about?"
There were a few things Sterling needed to remind himself of.
Juniper wasn't a pub owner. She was an FBI agent. Not a former agent. She was currently employed by the government. That complicated things, for more than one reason.
He cupped her face and stared into her eyes. "I need to ask you something before we get into all that. It's a personal question, and I only ask that you be real and honest."
"I can do that."
"Did something happen to make you agree to go out with me? A trigger point? Did you notice something? Was there chatter about?—"
She covered his mouth with her hand. "No. I liked you from the second I walked into this town, and that was a problem. I did my best to be professional. I tried to keep you at a distance, but you didn't make it easy. After months of saying no and no sign of even a single threat, I decided what the hell. I was tired of fantasizing about you late at night alone in my bed."
He coughed. "That's a mouthful of a confession."
"It's the truth."
"The timing is hard because it's the same day Doyle blew into town." Sterling lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. "I'm sorry. I'm suspicious by nature."
"I had agreed to our date the night before Doyle sat at my bar." She arched a brow. "And I've dug into him. He doesn't appear to be a threat to your mind."
"I don't trust Doyle." Sterling lifted her glass and handed it to her before finding his and pouring another two fingers. He opened the sliding glass doors and guided her toward the two lounge chairs that faced the opening of the inlet. "And that's a good but odd segue to my conversation with Mark." It wasn't really, but he believed she'd been honest.
And now it was time they helped each other.
In the end, maybe they still stood a chance of having something together. He had no idea. But he did understand working together. That he could do.
Chapter Thirteen
Juniper dropped into the lounge chair and pulled her feet up under her. She turned the glass of bourbon in her hands and stared out at the water. This stretch of the inlet opened into the bay and the darkness of the water seemed to stretch on forever. The water never hushed. It knocked against the pilings under the deck. The frogs had loud opinions, but the gators were muted for a change.
That was unusual for the Everglades, but then Juniper recalled Sterling mentioning that alligators rarely ventured this far down the canal—odd as that seemed.
"I shouldn't be, but I'm relieved that you know," she said. "I keep waiting for a more sensible feeling to show up, but I can't imagine it will." That was the ridiculous part. She should be anything but grateful that Sterling knew the truth about her identity. But she was. The fallout from her secret being revealed, both professionally and personally, could put her in a position worse than when she first arrived.
Losing her job was most likely going to happen. She could live with that, eventually. But not until all the unanswered questions swirling around Calusa Cove and Sterling were answered.
And while Sterling seemed to be taking her confession in stride, it didn't mean he wanted to keep things going romantically, and losing him, even as a friend, might be more than she could bear.
Sterling lowered himself into the chair beside her, close enough that the armrests knocked together, and stretched his legs toward the rail. "Emotions have no measurement of intelligence. They just are." He took a slow pull of his bourbon. "But I've been undercover. I understand that feeling."
