Rafe Mendez, 53, a minor league scout for the Cincinnati Reds with 19 years on the circuit and a scar across his left eyebrow from a college line drive, ducked into the thatch-roofed tiki bar off Florida’s Route 441 when the summer storm split open without warning. His work boots were caked with red clay from the high school field he’d just left, a crumpled scouting report for a 17-year-old lefty with a 94 mph fastball stuffed in the back pocket of his khakis, and he was half-convinced the entire trip was a wash until he grabbed the last open bar stool and signaled the bartender for a frozen margarita with extra salt. The tin roof drummed so loud with rain he could barely hear the low Bob Marley track playing over the speakers, the humidity clinging to his forearms thick enough to sip.
He was three sips in when she leaned past him to grab a stack of napkins from the caddy behind his seat, her sun-warmed bare arm brushing his so lightly he almost thought he imagined it, until she laughed and apologized when a drop of her rum punch sloshed over the rim of her glass and spotted the edge of his scouting notebook. She was 49, he guessed later, dark brown hair threaded with silver strands that caught the neon pink tiki torch light strung above the bar, nails painted pale coral, a small diamond wedding band winking on her left hand. She held eye contact for two beats longer than politeness required when she handed him a napkin to wipe the mess, and Rafe’s gut twisted when he placed her: she was Elara, the wife of the county’s athletic director, the same man who’d blocked his access to three top prospects last year over a petty argument about post-game interview rules.