Gin Fling (Bootleg Springs Book 5)

by Lucy Score

  “No, I just hate you,” I roared.

  13

  Jonah

  “Well, go screw yourself then!” She shoved me as hard as she could. Which moved me not an inch. I realized it was the first time she’d initiated any physical contact between us. Every time I’d touched her before, it had been to catch her or stop her from falling.

  “Is there a problem here?” All three hundred pounds of George Thompson was headed in my direction. I’d seen the man flip a tractor tire like it was a child’s toy. I didn’t want to give him a shot at me.

  Gibson stepped in George’s path. Not so much to stop him but more to slow him down a bit.

  “The problem is that my roommate is a nightmare, and I can’t live like this anymore,” Shelby screeched.

  “The real problem is I’ve been saddled with a vulture circling around trying to tear off pieces of the carcass of my father!”

  “Okay, now, that’s enough airing of the grievances,” Sheriff Tucker said, ambling into the fray.

  The music cut off, and every single Bootlegger gave us their full attention. I heard beers popping open everywhere.

  My brothers were trying to ease their way in between us. Scarlett was climbing over deck railings to get closer.

  Shelby stepped in closer so we were toe-to-toe.

  “You know what? I’d like to press charges, Sheriff Tucker. I’ve been verbally assaulted and emotionally attacked.”

  “Well, now, Shelby, I can understand why you’re feelin’ what you’re feelin’,” the sheriff said, trying his best to placate.

  “Screw this,” I bellowed. “You want the house to yourself? Well, you can have the whole damn town, too. I’m leaving.”

  “Jonah Bodine, you’re not going anywhere!” Scarlett howled.

  “Listen, man, we can work this out,” Bowie said, laying a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged him off.

  “I want you out of my life,” Shelby said. She gave me a solid push, both hands to my chest, and I went from standing on the deck to falling backward. I waved my arms like a bird trying to take flight, but the blue bathwater of the lake enveloped me.

  I stayed under long enough to let the scene play out a bit on the surface.

  When I surfaced, it was to pandemonium.

  Sheriff Tucker was slapping handcuffs on Shelby while Cassidy looked on horrified. “Dad, what are you doing?”

  “That was assault, clear as day,” Sheriff Tucker insisted. “And according to Ordinance 417.2, journalists that assault any resident are required to leave town immediately.”

  “How dare you!” Shelby said, making a good show of trying to kick him.

  “Oh my god. Don’t assault an officer!” Cassidy went low and tried to hold Shelby’s legs.

  June stood in front of George, looking vaguely concerned and trying to keep him from jumping in the water and drowning me. Gibson was helping June.

  “Let’s all calm down here,” Jameson said, standing on a beer cooler.

  Scarlett had her hands to her face. “This is all my fault!”

  “You’re damn right this is your fault,” Shelby howled as Sheriff Tucker tried to perp-walk her to his waiting boat.

  Scarlett jumped in front of them, waving her arms like an inflatable car lot balloon. “Wait! Shelby’s not a journalist! It was a misunderstanding! We were just teasin’ Jonah, and maybe I was playing a little matchmaker, too. And it got out of hand. You can’t throw Shelby out of town and, Jonah, don’t you even think about moving away!”

  I swam toward the nearest deck and let Nash Larabee and Opal Bodine pull me out of the water. George picked June up and physically moved her out of his way and then barreled in my direction. The deck swayed as the ex-pro football player charged.

  Gibson slid between me and George’s helmet-sized fists at the last moment.

  “No one treats my sister badly,” George insisted.

  “Yeah, and no one pounds my brother into oblivion,” Gibson said quietly.

  Shelby quit screaming and started laughing. I sloshed over to her and threw an arm around her shoulder.

  “Think that about does it?” Sheriff Tucker asked, his mustache twitching.

  “I’m happy,” I said. “Shelby? How do you feel?”

  “I feel real good, sheriff.”

  “What in the good goddamn is happening?” Scarlett asked from the prison of Devlin’s arms.

  “It appears we’ve been had,” Bowie said.

  Cassidy let go of Shelby’s legs. “You two planned this?”

  Shelby nodded, still grinning. I gave her a soggy, one-armed hug.

  “Of all the low-down, sneaky, underhanded…” Scarlett escaped Devlin’s grip and advanced on us. Devlin made a slashing motion across his throat, clearly not wanting any credit for being in the know. “Brilliant schemes! You really are one of us!”

  Scarlett gave me a tight hug, not caring that I was wetter than the lake.

  “I’m so proud right now,” she sniffled in my ear.

  “I learned from the master,” I said, tweaking her nose.

  “Sneaky son of a bitch,” Gibson said, no longer busy holding back George.

  “I can’t believe this place rubbed off on you so fast,” George was saying to Shelby as the sheriff unlocked the handcuffs.

  “I can’t believe you were in on this,” Cassidy said, shaking her head at her father.

  “Can’t let you kids have all the fun.”

  “Say what you will, Gibs, but you put yourself between Jonah and one pissed off football player,” Jameson pointed out.

  “You looooooove him,” Scarlett crooned.

  Gibson looked as though he was going to toss Scarlett in the water. And then he did just that.

  Her shriek was cut off as the water closed over her head.

  “Damn it.” Devlin sighed. He gave Gibs a shove from behind and sent him into the lake after Scarlett.

  Shelby let out a snort-laugh that set everyone else off.

  Gibson and Scarlett surfaced, spitting water and splashing each other.

  “Can we all just agree to stop messing with each other and enjoy the rest of the day?” I suggested.

  “I’ll drink to that,” Shelby said cheerfully, pulling a Mountain Dew out of her backpack.

  * * *

  We soaked up the sun and swam and ate. Late morning gave way to lazy afternoon. Folks coming and going. Because I said things like “folks” now.

  I kicked back in a lawn chair, my feet up on the railing of Sonny Fullson’s deck. Shelby plopped a chair down next to me.

  “You did good,” she said, grinning up at me.

  I felt good.

  “Thanks for talking me down before,” I told her.

  “My pleasure.” She reached into her backpack and pulled out a bottle of sunscreen. “Here, you’re looking a little pink.”

  “What else do you have in there?” I asked, squirting the SPF 50 into my palm.

  “Well, picky eaters can’t go to a floating deck party and expect to have their special dietary needs met,” she said, warming to the topic.

  “Of course not.”

  “I’ve got two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on white bread. Two bags of sour cream and onion potato chips. Another Mountain Dew.” She dug deeper, rummaging. “Oh, and some bug spray, spare sunglasses, and another shirt in case this one gets wet or stained.”

  “You’re a party professional,” I observed.

  “I also have this,” she said, looking furtively over her shoulder.

  Rather than pulling it out, she tilted the backpack in my direction to show me a very nice bottle of gin, tonic water, and a bag of sliced limes.

  “Have bar, will travel.” I approved.

  “There are no better moonshine makers in the country. But I still prefer some Bombay Sapphire once in a while. Besides, I like to enjoy a beverage with my show,” she said, nodding to the next deck.

  Misty Lynn, who’d just got done adjusting her pink leopard-print bikini top over
her very fake, slightly lopsided breasts in Gibson’s face, was now sobbing as Rhett Ginsler accused her of trying to get in Gibs’s pants yet again.

  “We might need Sheriff Tucker’s services after all,” I told Shelby.

  She snickered. “You seem like a refined urbanite. At least, more so than our pal Misty Lynn over there. Can I make you a gin and tonic?”

  “I’d be honored.”

  She dug deep, producing two Solo cups. “I’ve only ever seen you drink beer,” she said, helping herself to ice out of the nearest cooler. I noticed a long, jagged scar on her thigh and wondered what had caused it.

  “You’ve seen me hungover on moonshine,” I reminded her. I held the cups while she poured the gin.

  “The Black Friday Bootcamp,” she laughed, remembering. “Half the town turned out to see how hungover you’d be. They really do love you here.”

  Scarlett’s voice carried from where she perched on the rocks with Cassidy.

  “What do you mean you don’t get it?” Scarlett demanded. She’d mostly dried off, but my sister hadn’t dried out.

  “I mean, how would letting Jonah believe that Shelby was still an evil reporter get him to start crushing on her?” Cassidy frowned, dipping her toes in the water. Unlike her best friend, Cassidy wasn’t one to overindulge often. Though I’d been entertained by drunk Deputy Tucker recently.

  “Pfft,” Scarlett snorted, obviously having no idea how far her voice carried. “Don’t you know anything about matchmaking?”

  “You know my dating app history. Of course I know nothing about matchmaking.”

  “Well, the proximity of them living together with strong feelings toward each other created sparks. I created an obstacle—Shelby being a low-down, no good, dirty reporter—that I could remove at the opportune moment to best ensure sexy times. Sparks plus no obstacles means those two will be knockin’ boots in no time.”

  I met Shelby’s gaze over the cups as she opened the bottle of tonic.

  “Your sister is one in a million,” she whispered to me.

  “That’s a nice way of saying she’s a manipulative little schemer,” I said fondly.

  “Maybe you should keep it down. They keep looking over here,” Cassidy said.

  Shelby snickered next to me.

  “Just smile and wave,” Scarlett said at full volume. “They have no idea what we’re sayin’.”

  They waved and smiled, and we did the same in return.

  “They’re all invested in you,” Shelby said. “I get the sense that the whole town feels responsible for making up for your father.”

  “They seem to be fans of you, too,” I observed.

  Shelby gave a sassy little shrug. “Yeah, I’m kind of hard to resist.”

  I was starting to see that.

  “I guess we can be friends now,” I said.

  She put the top back on the tonic and took one of the cups from me. “To friendship.”

  I clinked my cup against hers. “To friendship.”

  14

  Jonah

  Bootleg Springs had trouble ending a party. We’d stayed out on the lake until the sun kissed the water in a blaze of pinks and reds.

  And just before all the decks motored home, Scarlett and Devlin announced a bonfire at their new place. Bootleg apparently also didn’t mind a party at a hole in the ground.

  Shelby rode with me, and we gave Bowie and Cassidy a lift. Something else neighbors and family did for each other when everyone lived five minutes from everyone else.

  My car bounced down the dirt path that cut through the land leading us toward the lakefront.

  I felt a burst of pride for my sister. Scarlett hadn’t had the advantage of college, and she hadn’t needed it. She’d taken over our father’s handyman business before she should have had to. By the time she graduated high school, she’d saved the flagging business and started saving for her first real estate rental. Now, she was building a home and planning a future with the man she loved.

  It was probably time for me to start weighing my options, thinking about my future. It had been a year since Rene. A year since I’d arrived in Bootleg as a stranger. I was healing here. But that didn’t mean that I had to stay.

  And even though when I’d said I was leaving it had been a lie, the words still struck a chord within me. A decision needed to be made. Stay or go.

  Here, I had brothers and a sister. I had friends. Would those relationships survive if I left? Were they real if they didn’t?

  I spared Shelby a glance. She was in the passenger seat, quiet. Her eyes looked heavy, shadowed.

  My headlights caught the ghostly skeleton of construction. “Look at this,” I said.

  Bowie and Cassidy reluctantly unlocked their lips in the back seat.

  Under the light of the moon, we could see the beginning of a real house. The basement was poured, and the first floor was already partially framed. The bonfire was just getting started down on the shoreline. A dozen pickups and SUVs were already there. People were carting food and chairs and even a keg down to the fire. Music played through someone’s portable speakers.

  When we parked, Shelby peeled off to talk to Hester Jenkins and Penny Waverly while Scarlett and Devlin gave the rest of us the grand tour.

  “This here’s where we’re going to snuggle by the fire in the winter,” Scarlett said, pointing at the plywood. She grinned up at Devlin, who leaned in to wrap her up. Their future shined so bright. And again, I felt that sharp reminder that I was missing out on something. That I could have had something like this but it was taken away from me.

  They’d positioned the house to take advantage of the lake views. What would be tall windows looked out in all directions, framing in trees and water and rolling hills. I could imagine them here. Could imagine Kitten Jedidiah skidding on the hardwood of the first floor in his reign of terror. I could see Christmas mornings here and birthday dinners.

  Would I be here to see them?

  Would Rene have liked it here? With her brunches and her cycling classes. Her art gallery visits. Would she have been happy here with me? With my family?

  My throat felt tight.

  While Gibson admired the quality of the construction, Jameson and Leah Mae asked a dozen questions about the floor plan. Bowie and Cassidy made out in a dark corner. Making up for lost time, I guessed.

  I took the opportunity to slip out. I was happy for Scarlett and Devlin. Really happy. But I was also aware how far away I was from a future like this.

  The night air was cooler now and scented with the hint of wood smoke.

  I wandered in the direction of the flames, the chatter. Tried to find the party mood again.

  I spotted her. Even in the dark, I could pick her out.

  Shelby was standing on the outskirts of the fun, observing.

  “Hiding out?” I asked, stepping up next to her.

  She startled and slapped a hand to her chest. “Are you professionally trained as a ninja?”

  “Order of the silent-footed,” I said seriously.

  She nudged me with her shoulder. “Funny guy.”

  She still looked tired.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  She lifted her lips in the ghost of a smile. “Everything’s just about perfect,” she confessed. “I really like this place.”

  I crossed my arms so I wouldn’t give in to the urge to pull her into my side. Apparently, I was a mess of feelings today.

  “It’s one-of-a-kind,” I commented.

  “I think I like it so much I’m avoiding my dissertation. I have all the research I could possibly need. The survey answers are pouring in. The outline and hypothesis are set in stone. But every time I sit down to write it, I get wrapped up in the fun of collecting the information.”

  “What are you going to do when you’re done with it?” I asked.

  “I’m not really sure. I’m hoping to get a research job with a university or some academic organization.”

  “Will you go back
to Pittsburgh?” I pressed.

  “I hope so. But I’m open to someplace new if the job fits. I don’t want to make any plans until I know where the job is, what the work is. What about you? Are you sticking around here?”

  “I was just thinking about it. I haven’t decided. I have family here. But I don’t know if that makes it home.”

  “What makes a place a home?” she asked.

  “Are you analyzing me right now?” I teased.

  “Aren’t you adorable? I analyze everyone.”

  I nudged her, and we started for a pair of chairs on the edge of the action. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, doc.”

  “Don’t even jinx me like that, Jonah. That doctorate is within reach, but I sure as heck don’t have it yet.”

  “Stop stalling. Tell me everything that’s wrong with me.”

  She snort-laughed, and it chased the shadows out of my chest.

  “First of all, there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re remarkably normal.”

  “Considering?” I prodded.

  “Considering that you grew up without a father,” she said.

  That was probably high praise from someone with a background in psychology.

  “Judging by how you interact with women,” she continued. “I would guess that your mother was strong, independent, but also loving. She taught you respect and didn’t let you feel like you were missing out on too much. How am I doing so far?”

  I nodded slowly. “So far pretty spot on.”

  She smiled smugly. “I thought so. Now, let’s dig below the surface.” She was warming to the topic.

  “You show up here a week after the funeral of Jonah Bodine Sr., which suggests you were peripherally aware of him. Which in itself suggests you weren’t interested in developing a relationship with him. However, you were very much interested in meeting your half-siblings.”

  “I spent most of my life hating Jonah Bodine,” I admitted. “In my mind, he ruined my mom’s life. She was working toward a degree. She could have had a career. Met a nice psychologist or lawyer or bartender. But he took that away from her.”

  “He or you?” Shelby asked astutely.