Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Sterling pulled his truck into Juniper's gravel drive, killed the engine, and tried to fill his lungs with oxygen, but his heart pounded so hard it got in the way. It was ridiculous for a man of his age to have first-date jitters. He squeezed the wheel hard, released it, and wiggled his fingers.
But it didn't ease the tension.
The bouquet he'd picked up last minute sat on the passenger seat, staring at him as if he'd offended it. He had no idea what kind of flowers they were, other than they were white, purple, and pretty.
Two kids had set up shop on the side of the road out by the marina with a sign in red marker that read FLOWERS FOR THE NEW AUDITORIUM and a cardboard box of mason jars sweating in the late sun.
Sterling couldn't say no to that. Besides, this was a date.
A real date. And flowers should be part of the equation.
He ran a hand over his mouth. It had been a while since he'd taken anyone out.
When he moved to Calusa Cove, he had already decided he would be the bachelor who came to the cookouts, held the babies, and went home to his quiet house with the bed he made up even though there was nobody for him to make it up for.
That plan had developed cracks the first time he sat down at the bar, and Juniper handed him a beer.
He rolled his neck, squared his shoulders, and picked up the flowers. He'd been shot at and left to die in four different countries. Taking Juniper to dinner shouldn't be so hard.
Her house was a small Florida bungalow two streets back from the inlet, set up on cinder blocks against the floods, with a screened front porch, a yard of crushed shell, and saw palmetto.
A wind chime hung from the porch rafter and turned slowly in the late breeze.
The small hollow notes of it slid under the cicadas.
He climbed the porch steps, and the boards gave a quarter inch under his boots. Most of the homes in Calusa Cove needed work. This one needed an overhaul.
Juniper opened the door and greeted him with a smile. She hadn't pulled her hair up into a ponytail, and that was a first. It fell a few inches past her shoulders in a soft wave he hadn't known was there. She wore a loose, pale-yellow dress that ended at her knees.
"You're staring," she said.
"I am." The admission flew from his lips before he could even think about an appropriate response. He held out the flowers. "You look beautiful."
"Thank you." She took the bouquet. "And I appreciate these." Her fingers brushed his, and she lifted the flowers to her face and breathed in. "What are they?"
"I honestly have no idea," he said, deciding the truth might be on his side.
"Well, they're very pretty." She stepped back from the door and held it open with her hip. "Why don’t you come in so I can put these in water. I'd hate for them to die before I can enjoy them."
"You could bring them to work. Put them on the bar or in your office."
"Now that would really get this town talking."
"It already is." He stepped inside. The house smelled like chocolate, sugar, and a hint of vanilla.
Kind of like the cake she'd given him last night.
The front door opened straight into a living room that ran into a kitchen.
The floor was scarred pine, and the furniture included soft brown couches, a mismatched recliner, and a coffee table with a burned-in coaster ring.
The walls held three framed prints of typical Florida settings half the town had, but he liked them.
A highwayman's sunset over Indian River.
A long flat painting of a heron in marsh grass.
And a small watercolor of a cypress stand.
His brain mapped it because he couldn't stop his mind from doing it.
Her place had the feel of someone who hadn't planned on staying but was merely passing through.
He knew what that looked like because until he'd come to Calusa Cove, that was how he lived.
Just enough to make a space warm and comfortable, but not so much that walking away from it would cause stress.
She crossed to the kitchen, pulled a glass vase out of a cabinet above the sink. "This will only take a minute or two."
"No rush." He continued to scan her home, mentally scolding himself. This was a romantic date, not a job. He wasn't here to make a judgment about the way she lived. He didn't know much about her past, other than she was a widow and that was what had brought her to Calusa Cove—a fresh start.
She unwrapped the flowers from the paper. "How was your day?"
"Long. Dove came in for a half day and went home green. Cullen's working three jobs right now. Which left me to handle most of the paperwork, and everyone thinks I like filing as much as Buddy does."
"You do like to be organized."
"I don't like clutter," he said.
"We can go with that."
"How about if we talk about your day?" Sterling asked. "How did things go with that guy who was hitting on you?" And, he had to lean into that, which wasn't normal at all.
"Excuse me?" She glanced up from the floral arrangement.
"Cullen told me."
"Of course he did." She slid the last stem into the vase and arranged the bouquet with a few minor adjustments that took her about thirty seconds and somehow doubled how good the flowers looked.
She set the vase in the middle of the kitchen counter and stepped back.
"I'm surprised you didn't come over and try to scare the guy off," she said.
"Cullen thought I should, but I told him I’d been observing your interactions with flirty customers for nearly half a year, and I was sure you could handle it. And that if anything changed, you'd know who to call."
"The customer flirted with Tara for the rest of lunch." She strolled into the family room and made her way across the floor.
Sterling followed, reaching around her and opening the door.
"Tara is going to eat that man for breakfast."
"I don't know about that," Juniper said. "He seemed like the kind of guy that was looking for a body to keep his bed warm for the next couple of days."
"I don't mean to be rude, especially because Tara really is a nice person." Sterling held the door for her. "However, knowing Tara, he might have found one. She's not the settling down type."
"I think she's just afraid," Juniper said. "I'm guessing someone hurt her in the past, and she's still holding onto those feelings."
"I suppose that's possible."
They stepped onto the porch, and Juniper locked up the house.
He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her toward his vehicle.
It's what a man did when he took a woman on a date.
He really needed to get out of his head.
He was a grown man who'd been with more women than he cared to count.
He held the truck door for her. She climbed up onto the seat, and he closed the door behind her and went around to his side.
The drive to the Crab Shack was two and a half miles of road that ran the length of the inlet.
He jogged this section of road all the time.
Looped through the town, up over the bridge, down the other side of the inlet, through the trailer park, and back.
Driving it seemed odd. But he did it more times than he cared to admit.
The sun had dropped below the line of the cypress on the west side, and the sky over the water had gone the color of a healing bruise.
A great blue heron stood in the shallows by the boat ramp.
A pelican sat on a piling beside it and watched Sterling's truck go past with the bored judgment pelicans had for everything.
She rested her elbow on the open window and held a few fingers out into the wind. The radio was on low, some old George Strait song he half-knew the words to.
He kept his eyes on the road and tried not to look at the line of her neck where her hair had blown back.
He looked twice anyway.
The Crab Shack parking lot consisted of crushed shell, similar to every parking lot in Calusa Cove, and the building stood long and low with cypress siding, a silver clay roof, string lights lining the eaves, and a covered deck that stretched out over the water.
He parked under a slash pine at the back of the lot, walked around to Juniper's door. Much to his surprise, she'd waited, and he helped her down.
"It's a beautiful night," she said, hand still in his. "Not too muggy."
"I'm glad for that because I was hoping to sit out on the water."
"That's always nice."
Inside the front door, Marisol's cousin Lucia ran the host stand. She looked up and smiled wide.
"I was told you two were coming," Lucia said.
"Hayes left me a note. Told me to save you a spot out on the deck.
" She snagged a couple of menus from under the stand.
"Right this way." She led them through the bar room and out the side door onto the deck.
Half the tables were taken. The other half stretched off into the dusk under the string lights.
A breeze came in off the water and pushed the heat sideways, which felt nice against his skin.
Not to mention it helped taper off his pounding pulse.
A local man had set up at the far end of the patio with his guitar and played a familiar song.
Lucia walked them past the dock railing to a high-top table set against the rail with a perfect view down the inlet.
Sterling held Juniper's chair. He registered, on his way to his own, the people he knew in the room.
Hayes Bennett and his wife Chloe at a table along the inside rail, four chairs, but only two of them filled—date night.
Hayes looked up and smiled. Chloe wiggled her fingers.
Sterling nodded. Juniper waved.
He'd have to thank Hayes for the table later.