Page 12 of Southernmost Murder
“How are—” he started.
“You look really hot,” I blurted out.
Jun paused, glanced over my shoulder to where Adam was probably still loitering, then smiled. He reached out and petted my hair again.
“How’d you get here?”
“I rented a car.” Jun took his hands off me, and I wanted the warm weight back immediately. “I tried calling but kept getting voicemail.”
“Yeah, I think I lost my phone,” I said lamely. I glanced at the mess I’d made during my search.
Adam cleared his throat from the doorway and raised his eyebrows when I turned. “So everything’s cool?”
“Cool,” I said. “Sorry. Ah, Adam this is Jun Tanaka. My… my—yeah.” I laughed and put a hand on Jun’s arm. “Jun, Adam Love. He runs the gift shop.”
Jun inclined his head. “Pleasure.”
“Same,” Adam said. “Aubs talks about you a lot.”
“Not a lot—” I shook my head and looked at Jun. “Want to get lunch?”
Chapter Three
I DIDN’Tknow what to do with my hands. Put them in my pockets? Seemed standoffish. Crossing them while walking was weird too. I could keep them at my sides and stop freaking out about it—imagine that. But it was the same nervousness as the hug. We weren’t officially dating or anything, Jun could be a hard man to read, and he had never been terribly forthcoming with his desires, so I didn’t know if I was supposed to hold his hand.
“The radio in the car seemed to only get reception on Cher or Jimmy Buffett songs,” Jun was saying.
“My condolences.”
He laughed.
I stopped walking. “Hey, hold up for a minute.”
Jun paused and looked at me. “Something wrong?”
“I’m just going to ask, because I think you prefer that—being straightforward.”
He raised a brow and stared expectantly.
“Is holding hands a yes or no? I’m fine with either,” I quickly added. “But for you, I didn’t know if….”
Jun immediately reached down and slid his fingers between mine, giving my hand a light squeeze. “Good?”
Awesome, in fact.
We walked toward the boardwalk, which wasn’t more than ten minutes from the Smith Home. The whole area was bustling with tourists. Some wore swimsuits and desperately needed more sunscreen, others consulted maps of Old Town in their quest for the art museum or Butterfly Conservatory or just any old bar because it was five o’clock somewhere, right? There were boats docked, and the surface of the water shimmered from the afternoon sun overhead. By sunset the street vendors and performers would be out at Mallory Square and the place would be packed with folks looking tooohandaahover the pretty sky.
And I wasn’t being sarcastic. It’s quite beautiful here in Key West.
I headed toward a white building on the water’s edge. The stenciled lettering across the side had faded from the sun long ago, but the name could still barely be made out.
Sea Shack Beer & Grub.
“It’s better on the inside,” I said. “Well… the food is good, at least. The barbeque shrimp is worth killing over.”
Jun smiled and followed me inside.
It was crowded with families at all of the tables, leaving only a handful of open seats at the three-sided bar. There were a few televisions positioned above with some sports being broadcasted, and the farthest wall had a number of open windows, the smell of the ocean coming in on a breeze.
