sense to him that he wondered what all of the other owners were thinking.
Lester led them over to a large round table, where a group of retirees had already gathered. Green felt was being laid across the wooden surface, and poker chips were being distributed. Grover glanced over at Lester, who replied with a crafty wink. So this was the surprise he had promised. Grover was tempted to bear hug him then and there.
In truth, the past few days had driven Grover Kirk stir-crazy, and this excursion had been necessary. True, the home confinement had allowed him to finish his book, but he hadn’t been allowed to celebrate the occasion…until now. He and Lester sat down in the two empty seats at the table.
“Boys, this is that winemaker I told you about,” said Lester. “Grover Kirk, these are the boys. Keep one hand on your wallet at all times.”
The boys—none of whom was less than sixty-five years old—all laughed and welcomed Grover with handshakes and waves.
Then Esme cleared her throat.
A few pairs of eyes glanced in her direction.
“The bitch hovering behind us is my daughter-in-law. On the count of three, let’s give her the gentleman’s salute, okay, boys?”
On the count of three, most of the men chivalrously displayed their middle fingers for her benefit.
“I’ll be at the bar,” she murmured, and wandered away.
“If that’s all it took to get rid of her,” said Grover, “I’d have flipped her off days ago.”
This inspired the appropriate laughter around the table. Grover smiled, at peace with himself, and ordered a Seven and Seven from the scantily clad waitress. He, of course, hadn’t wanted to get rid of Esme—in his mind, she was as much a celebrity as Galileo—but he knew the words would raise his likability with the men.
“Fifty dollars up front, no buy-ins,” explained Lester, and Grover reached into his pocket for the easy cash.
The game was Texas Hold’em, as Grover expected it to be, and he quickly gauged the skills and personalities of the other seven players at the table. He also enjoyed the floor show, of course, but most of his energy was devoted to the woman at the bar. In the past few days, he felt that he had gotten to know Esme Stuart very well, and he was fascinated by her. Here was a woman who had survived repeated adversity, retired at the top of her game to start a family, put an end to one of the most vicious mass murderers in American history and had absolutely no idea of how special she was.
Or how beautiful she was. Because despite the obvious assets on display in the center of the room, Grover’s libido remained fixated on Esme. His eyes traveled along the strands of her light brown hair as they ran down, down, down, past earlobes, past jawline and came so close to those kissable shoulder blades. He could glimpse her face in the mirror at the bar and even though he couldn’t make out the faint freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks, he knew they were there, and adored each and every one. And even though she wore a bland sweatshirt and jeans, he was confident that underneath those clothes lay a shapely, athletic body perfect for—
“Hey, Grover, you in or out?”
He peeked at his hold cards. A pair of nines. He tossed in a one-dollar chip to match the big blind. The betting continued around the table.
“So, Grover, how long you up here for?”
“A little while longer,” he replied.
“Lester here tells us you’re working on a book about Galileo?”
Grover nonchalantly glanced at the three cards on the flop—two of clubs, nine of clubs, king of hearts—and limped into the pot with another dollar. The flush draw scared him. “I just finished it, actually.”
“That was one fucked-up son of a bitch.”
“Yes, he was,” Lester said with authority, as if to remind everyone that he had been a hostage when the fucked-up son of a bitch went down.
The table went quiet for a moment, each gentleman imagining what they would have done in that situation. Then Nolan Worth, the snow-haired proprietor of the lighthouse bed-and-breakfast and the card dealer for this round, broke the silence.
“So whereabouts you staying while you’re up here, Grover?”
Lester chuckled. “Tell him.”
“What’s so funny?” asked Nolan.
Grover squirmed in his seat.
“Get this,” Lester said. “My daughter-in-law has Grover here under house arrest.”
“For writing a book?”
Lester elbowed Grover. “Tell him.”
“Lester, maybe we shouldn’t—”
“No, these guys know how the world works. How the government reaches