24. Reservations #2
I hand her the glass but don’t let go until she lifts her gaze to mine. Her plump, kissable lips are a distraction, but I force my focus on her eyes because, unlike those fucking lips, her eyes don’t lie.
“Cheers,” I say. “To beginning again.”
She frowns, glances down at the empty plate before her, then lifts her chin. When I release her glass, she holds it up in silent agreement.
Silent, but it’s still an acknowledgment of what this is.
I leave her to her thoughts while I place all the dishes on the table. I could’ve positioned us so we were each on an end, but I wanted to be close to her, so I set the table with one place at the end and one just to the left.
It’s no surprise that Junie chooses the head of the table. Honestly, it doesn’t fucking matter to me where I sit as long as I’m next to her, so I sink into the empty place setting and dish out the food.
A few moments later, a low moan slips from her mouth, and I lift a brow.
“This is annoying,” she mutters, further ratcheting up my interest in how tonight will play out.
“What is?” I place another bite of manicotti into my mouth. The flavors, thankfully, are amazing. As is the chunk of sausage I spear next.
“How is this so good? I thought I’d get to spend the entire meal mocking you.”
A bark of laughter overpowers the low hum of background music I have playing in surround sound. “Better luck next time.”
“I even prepared material.”
Not surprising. “Deploy it. Give me your best shot. I’ll even take notes.”
“It’s dry,” she says casually.
It’s not.
“Try again,” I say, wearing a smile that makes my cheeks hurt.
“I think I’m getting food poisoning.”
“I have a list of all ingredients used. The doctors will be able to suss out all your ailments quickly.”
“Ugh. See? I’ve got nothing. Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“Somehow I ended up on the Italian cooking side of Instagram Reels.”
“You’re not on Instagram. I mean…” She scans the exits, and my interest is officially fucking piqued. “Are you?”
Juniper Mercer doesn’t make mistakes, but she’s just slipped, and watching her squirm is more fun than I thought it would be.
“Junie, have you been cyber-stalking me?”
“Ugh,” she scoffs. “No, but since Fen tags me in literally everything, I figured if you were on Instagram, I would’ve seen it. You know, through him.”
“Right. Through him.” I stuff my mouth full of manicotti. She’s right—this is fucking good.
“In case you haven’t noticed,” she sasses, “I’m off social media. I wouldn’t know if you were dancing naked in Barbados or posting cat videos. I don’t follow you.”
“No naked dancing, but I’m sure Fen tagged The Haven, which does have an Instagram account, in a photo of us fishing.
Definitely shirtless.” Her face heats again.
She’s seen those photos. They’re the same ones Hudson added to the Juniper & Her Berries group chat a few summers ago.
“What about you? Any topless videos I should be aware of?”
She chokes on her food, and I’m quick to pat her back, even if it’s just an excuse to touch her.
Junie swats me away, and reluctantly, I remove my hand.
“Not topless,” she says stiffly, cutting into her manicotti. “But there’s a sex tape floating around somewhere.”
It’s my turn to choke, for my face to turn a mottled red color—I don’t have to see it to know it’s true. Heat rises to the surface of my skin from my forehead to my toes. Rage. That’s what it is.
She says nothing for ten excruciating seconds.
Then fucking Viper explodes into peals of laughter.
It takes my mind another ten seconds to catch up.
Junie’s fucking with me.
Another ten seconds pass before I can unclench my hands.
Ten more before she stops rocking in her chair.
Ten more still before I can bring myself to breathe.
My foot hooks into the leg of her chair, and I drag her around the edge of the table. The sudden movement snaps her out of her giggle fit when we’re nose to nose.
I use my thumb to wipe the happy tears from her cheek. Even if they’re at my expense, even if they’re happy ones, I hate seeing her cry.
“That was funny to you?”
She swallows and makes a gurgling sound before she nods. “That was too easy,” she says.
“Sweetheart, you can take a piss out of me anytime you want, as long as I’m here to see this smile.” I kiss her softly. Quickly.
Now is not the time to push for more.
So I stand and drag her back into position, where she immediately stuffs her mouth with cheesy manicotti.
She takes two more bites, then she starts blabbing nervously.
I listen while she tells me about Stanley’s latest attempt to get Marley to sign off on the rideshare business for golf carts.
How Dollie has started referring to us as the kids.
How Katie, despite her best efforts, is actually starting to grow on her.
I don’t tell her that I got all this information from the multiple newsletters she signed me up for, or the numerous visits I get from The Haven residents daily because I like watching her talk.
I don’t know that last time I listened to someone talk like this without trying to solve something.
I’m not even doing anything with all the useless information she’s giving me. I’m just…absorbing it.
The shape of her mouth when she says Screen & Steam.
The way she laughs at her own joke halfway through, completely forgetting to give me the punchline.
The specific frequency to which Juniper Mercer is alive is something I’ve been oriented toward my entire life and never allowed myself to enjoy until this moment.
“You’re not eating,” she says, interrupting my inner musings.
“I am.” My tone is too low for the ease of this conversation, but I can’t control it any more than I can control the way my body reacts to her.
“You’re staring. Again.”
“Admiring. Don’t be a pain in the ass. Just…let me.”
“Cole.”
“Juniper.”
She sets down her fork, and unease unfurls in my gut when she refuses eye contact. “I need to tell you something.”
My mind quickly takes inventory of what the hell she could say right now.
Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.
There’s nothing I can’t help her address. Resolve. Take care of.
“I got the document from the handwriting specialist. It’s notarized, and she’s been used in numerous court cases, so she’s reliable.”
My shoulders unlock with one long exhale I hope she doesn’t notice.
“Okay, that’s good.” Really fucking good. So good, I worry for a moment that the flood of relief coursing through my veins will make me miss something important.
“There’s more.”
I stare at her, waiting patiently while my insides do the exact opposite.
“I found an address,” she says.
It takes me a moment for my brain to comprehend what she’s saying.
“Devin,” I rumble. That asshole hasn’t ruined enough for me? Now he’s ruining my first date with Junie?
Figures.
“I found it yesterday. It’s for a PO Box in Charleston, and in order to get a PO Box, you have to give them a street address…so one exists. We just have to find it.”
I’m chewing on the inside of my lip while my mind recategorizes and restructures one clusterfuck after another.
“Okay,” I say cautiously.
“I almost went to check it out.”
I suppress a smile. Junie likes information even more than her coffee. Sitting on this must have been torturous. “But you didn’t.”
She shakes her head.
“And you really wanted to go. You probably had visions of stakeouts, complete with snack choices.” It’s a guess rooted in history.
“Just because you think you know everything about me doesn’t mean you need to always share with the class.”
“I don’t think, sweetheart. I do know everything about you—everything important anyway.”
“Didn’t Nana Mae teach you to be a gentleman? Sometimes it’s okay to let things go, Cole.” Her scoff attacks my nerve endings with a pleasurable shock.
“Like you did with your stakeout plans.” I’m no longer in control of my tone. It’s low, silky, and intended to undo her.
“I’m giving you your four days. I should at least get credit for that, by the way. Noted for the record at the very least. I’m giving up a fundamental piece of my identity by not going after this information.”
“Noted,” I rumble. “Tallied and recorded for posterity’s sake.”
She picks her fork back up, but I’m not sure if it’s to continue eating or to use it as a weapon.
I’m finding I like the unknown of Juniper Mercer even more than the snark and sass of Viper. Since the day I met her, her modus operandi has been to react first and worry later. Yet here, at The Haven, she’s given me four days because I asked for them.
Not because she was convinced.
Not because it was strategic.
But because I asked.
I don’t know how to handle that—but I’m willing to learn.
“Go to Charleston,” I say.
The fork she’s been playing with stops against her plate as she slow-blinks. “What?”
“Go tomorrow. Have Katie go with you if you want backup. Find whatever it is you need and bring it back. We’ll file on Thursday.”
She flops back in her chair, reminding me of Nolan when the Red Sox lose, but she’s doing it while wearing a dress that will tease my dreams for an eternity.
“You’re…sure?”
Am I sure that everything’s about to change?
Yes.
Am I sure that I want her rooting around in Devin’s shit?
Debatable.
Will I hold her back from solving my mess when sorting through financial ruins is one of her greatest joys?
No.
“I’m sure. I’ve read every report you’ve given me, Junie. This morning, I saw how you methodically followed money trails I couldn’t decode. Even if we can’t find Devin, you’ve proven that the lines leading to me were faked.”
How honest can I be? How vulnerable?
“I tried,” I say. “I knew I didn’t do this, but I couldn’t fix it.” Admitting that is a kick to the nuts I wasn’t expecting. “I—I was terrified that no one would believe me. But you did. You saved my career, Juniper. My reputation. You’re so fucking good at what you do. You saved me.”
And what she doesn’t know is she may have saved herself a whole lot of pain in the process.