When he moved to Calusa Cove, he had already decided he would be the bachelor who came to the cookouts, held thebabies, 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 canput 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 handlemost 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."
