Gin Fling (Bootleg Springs Book 5)

by Lucy Score

  There were woods behind the house and a trail. It was as good a place as any to start.

  “What does she eat?” I asked my brother.

  “She eats vegetables mostly and some pig pellets,” he said.

  “Okay, I need you to put some of the pellets into a container with hard sides. Something that will make noise when I shake it. Got it?” Jonah said, catching on.

  “Yeah. Okay.” GT nodded. “Yeah, that’s good.” He charged into the house.

  “What’s the plan, Inspector Pig Finder?” I asked Jonah.

  “Start warming up. You and I are going for a little jog.”

  * * *

  We left GT behind us in case No Name circled back. Also, the fact was a 300-pound receiver lumbering through the woods would probably scare the poor creature farther away.

  The trail behind the house was rocky and uneven, but the woods were thin enough that we could see in all directions. While we jogged, Jonah shook the container as I called “Here, pig, pig, pig!”

  “I didn’t think to ask. Is she friendly?” he asked, scouring the tree line ahead.

  We were taking it slow, and my joints were grateful for it.

  “I think so. GT said she rode like a dog in the passenger seat on the way home. He adopted her from a rescue, and all the staff there just loved her. Here, pig, pig, pig!”

  We ran in silence for a few moments, and I had to admit that it felt good to be out and moving in the sunshine. Even though I was hunting for a missing potbellied pig instead of training for a triathlon or, you know, actually writing my dissertation.

  “I’ve had a lot of expectations about my life. This scenario was not one of them,” I mused.

  Jonah cracked a smile beside me. God, he was good-looking. He wasn’t broad like my brother. He wasn’t broody like his brother Gibson. He was tall and lean with sharp cheekbones and grass green eyes that looked into you. But it was the smile that took him into the interesting stratosphere.

  “Given any thought to my offer?” I asked cheerfully.

  Jonah stumbled on the path, and I grabbed his arm to hold him upright.

  “Jeez, Shelby. Aren’t researchers supposed to be patient?”

  “Oh, come on,” I said, scanning the field that opened up on my right. “I was kidding, mostly. Besides, what else are we going to talk about on our pig hunt?”

  “You brought it up hours ago,” he complained. “I said I’d think about it.”

  I liked seeing him flustered.

  “You’re not just trying to come up with a way to tell me you aren’t attracted to me, are you?” I asked.

  He slowed his pace and came to a stop, still shaking the container of pellets. “Look. It’s been a while for me,” he confessed.

  “How long is a while? A month? Six months?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “Fifteen days?” I pressed.

  “Fifteen months.”

  That was longer than I expected. That was longer than my longest dry spell. That was longer than most of the relationships I’d been in. “Whoa,” I said, catching my breath. “Since Rene?” I asked.

  “Yeah. So there’s some pressure. Kissing you was the first contact I’d had in a long time, and it was overwhelming. Kind of rattled me,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I’m ready to explore that.”

  There was that vulnerability again. And I was a sucker for it.

  “As much as I’d like to take credit for an earth-shattering kiss,” I told him, “there was ambiance. We were outside under the stars. There was a bonfire and a proposal. It was orchestrated for romance. You were reacting to physical and mental stimuli. That’s all. It’s biology with some fun chemistry thrown in.”

  He studied me. “So if we kissed—say right now—it wouldn’t be the same ‘stimuli’ and therefore not the same outcome?”

  “We’re sweating half to death chasing a pig—which, by the way, only in Bootleg, am I right? I think it’s safe to say that, no, it would not be the same chemical reaction. But we could test the theory. We’re only changing one variable, the environment,” I mused, intrigued with the idea. Also always up for a kiss that would melt my bones.

  “Are you suggesting I kiss you right now?” he asked.

  “Do it for science, Jonah,” I teased.

  He laughed softly, stepping in close. My body was already humming at his proximity.

  “Hang on,” he said, putting the container of pellets on the ground. “Let’s do this right.”

  Instead of threading his hands into my hair, this time Jonah slid them around my waist pulling me in until we were pressed up against each other. My back was sweaty. I hadn’t bothered with deodorant this morning. My bangs were everywhere. But his serious eyes demanded my full attention.

  He was moving in soft and slow again. “Wait.” I put my hand up and held him where he was. “I’ll kiss you this time.” On the off chance that him slow-motion kissing me was the trigger for earth-shifting-under-our-feet, it would be safer to change up the process.

  “Okay,” he said, his voice husky.

  I slipped my arms around his neck and rose on my tiptoes. “Are you ready for this?”

  He nodded, his fingers disrupting the trickle of sweat running down my back.

  I skipped the slow motion and went in hot.

  It was supposed to be fun and light. Reassuring. Friendly even.

  But our mouths met, and everything went sideways. It wasn’t the sounds of summer in Bootleg that I heard now. It was his breath, ragged and harsh. The sun disappeared from my skin, and instead I felt the heat and pressure of his hands. The erection stirring in his shorts. The hammer-like thud of my heart in my chest.

  I was the aggressor here, opening my mouth and sinking my teeth into that perfect lower lip of his.

  “Shelby,” he growled.

  And then our tongues were tangling, hands roaming, teeth biting. He slipped his hands under my t-shirt, thumbs resting under the band of my sports bra. His broad palms spanning my rib cage.

  I went for the gold. I removed my arms from around his neck and shoved my hands into the back of his shorts, squeezing the world’s most perfect ass.

  His erection was at full attention now, throbbing against my stomach.

  Biology was so damn sexy.

  The kiss was wildly unpredictable, both of us fighting to deepen it. Both of us fighting to hold back. And I realized too late that this would do nothing to relieve his concerns. I decided to worry about that later.

  At least until what sounded like an ear-splitting shriek cracked the cone of sexy that surrounded us.

  We pulled back and stared at each other. “I’m very stimulated,” I whispered. My lips felt swollen. Jonah’s eyes had gone to green glass. His grip on me was deliciously possessive.

  “What the hell was that?” he asked, finally breaking through the sexual haze.

  One hell of a kiss.

  The shriek sounded again. High-pitched and frantic.

  “That’s a pig! Come on!”

  23

  Jonah

  “T hat is not a baby pig,” I said, eyeing the hefty black form that trotted down the path to us.

  “Potbellied pigs can weigh up to 120 pounds,” Shelby recited. “I’m not sure how I know that.”

  No Name had to be at least fifty pounds and had black bristly hair and a curly tail that was wagging like a delighted dog. “There’s a halter but no leash,” I said, the realization sinking in. “How are we going to get her back to the house?”

  Shelby gnawed on the lower lip that I’d just kissed. I was still fully hard, the aftereffects of a second world-tilting kiss still occupying most of my brain power and blood supply. I was definitely going to worry about the outcome of our experiment later. For now, I had to figure out how to get a pig home.

  “Maybe she’ll just follow us?” she said hopefully.

  The pig pranced up to us stopping about six feet out. It squealed and danced on dainty hooves.

  Adjusting my
hard-on, I squatted down and held out my hand. “This works for dogs, but I’m not sure about pigs.” If I could get a hand on her, I could pick her up… and then carry her the mile back to the house.

  She pranced away and then back again, squealing insistently.

  “Am I stupid for saying that it looks like she wants us to follow her?” I asked.

  “I’m so glad you said it. I didn’t want you to think I was an idiot. What’s the matter, piggy? Is someone stuck in a well?” Shelby asked, head cocked.

  The pig bowed on its front feet like a dog and then jogged up the path in front of us. She stopped a few yards out and hurried back.

  I shrugged and stood. “Looks like a ‘yes’ to me. Let’s see where she’s going.”

  The pig seemed delighted that we were following her. She scurried a few yards in front of us over the crest of the trail before veering off into the meadow. Tall grass tangled around rock outcroppings and trunks of trees.

  “Is now a good time to mention I really don’t want to step on one of those poisonous snakes that reside in rural West Virginia?” she confessed.

  “At least we’ll be able to see the bears coming.”

  “You’re so silver lining-y,” she said.

  We picked up the pace. The pig was on a mission. I just hoped she wasn’t leading us to a giant pile of shit or a dead body. If a Bodine was found in the vicinity of a dead body, law enforcement would have a shit fit.

  The pig came to a stop in front of a few jagged rocks under a huge hickory tree. The shade was a welcome respite. I swiped the sweat out of my eyes with the hem of my t-shirt. The breeze stirred the leaves over our heads.

  The pig squealed and then lay down.

  “What’s that?” Shelby asked, venturing closer. “Oh my god, Jonah.”

  It was a puppy. At least I thought it was a puppy. The poor thing’s fur was matted with mud and probably shit. It had a dirty rope around its neck. The end of which was tangled in loose branches and rocks.

  It whimpered.

  “Oh, you poor baby!” Shelby eased in, carefully not to startle the pig or the pup.

  The pig nudged her hand, and Shelby gave her a stroke. “You’re a hero, little pig. You just saved this baby’s life.”

  I edged in and grimly went to work on the rope. It was filthy, and the dog’s neck was rubbed raw beneath it. “Whoever had this dog is not getting him back.”

  “Oh, he is a he!” Shelby said with delight as she lifted him carefully into her lap. Listlessly, he lapped at her hand. It was impossible to tell what color he was through the layers of dirt and mud and God knows what else. But he had the floppy-eared look of the beagle my neighbors had in Jetty Beach.

  “He’s probably dehydrated and hungry as fuck,” I predicted.

  “Get the pellets,” she ordered. “And bring me the water bottle I dropped.”

  I did as instructed. Shelby cupped her hands in front of the puppy, and I poured the now warm water into her palms.

  If dogs could be grateful, this puppy was worshipping Shelby. He drank deeply, and I refilled her hands.

  The pig nosed her way in.

  “Are you thirsty, too?” Shelby laughed. “I bet with all that running you did.”

  We gave them the rest of the water and then the treats. The puppy devoured the pig kibble as if it were Kobe beef.

  “Two animals and no leashes,” Shelby said, eyeing me.

  I sighed. “I’ll carry the pig.”

  * * *

  “Hey, remember that time we kissed and then carried a pig and a puppy all the way home? Talk about a memorable summer fling.” Shelby joked behind me.

  It was a long, sticky walk back. The pig seemed happy enough to be carried but had to continually reassure herself with glances over my shoulder at the puppy cradled in Shelby’s arms. I had the heavier of the two, but Shelby was holding the one that smelled like cow shit.

  We were within a hundred yards of the house when George lumbered up the trail. “Katherine!” He ran to us, and the pig scrambled against my chest.

  “Katherine?” I asked. It was an interesting name for the pig.

  “After Katherine Johnson, the NASA mathematician,” he said reaching his receiver paws for the pig.

  I handed her over.

  “You’re a good boyfriend, GT. June’s going to love Katherine,” Shelby predicted with a grin.

  “Why are you holding a lump of dirt?” Her brother moved in closer, caught a whiff, and backed off again. “Jesus, are you carrying a load of shit?”

  “Oh, this old thing? This is just the puppy your pig saved,” Shelby said.

  I slapped George on the shoulder and shook out my arms to get the circulation moving again. “Your pet pig is a hero. She led us right to him.”

  He ushered us in through the back, this time securing the door behind us.

  Mellow the bunny hopped into the kitchen.

  “Now, listen, Katherine. You and Mellow have to be friends. There are no other options. Got it?” he explained.

  The pig wiggled, and George set her gently on the tile floor. She tiptoed toward the fluffy bunny. The bunny took a tentative hop closer. Katherine’s nose twitched as she leaned in for a sniff.

  “Huh. Guess you’re not scared anymore,” George observed.

  “Aren’t pigs highly intelligent?” Shelby asked from the kitchen sink where she was preparing the disgusting puppy for a bath. “Maybe she knew this little guy was in trouble?”

  While Mellow hopped off with Katherine on her heels, George flopped down in a kitchen chair next to the totaled table that lay crumpled on the floor. “You’re my fucking heroes.”

  “You’ll be June’s hero when she gets home from the office today,” Shelby promised him.

  I joined her at the sink and dug around for the dish detergent. “This should be safe for him.” I turned the water on and let it warm up. The puppy scrambled against the stainless steel, but Shelby kept him contained.

  “This is for your own good, little man. You smell like a porta potty,” she warned him.

  We washed and dried the little guy. And tried to keep him from drinking the filthy bathwater and eating the soap bubbles. He was getting cuter by the minute.

  He had patches of brown and black and white with huge velvety ears.

  George stopped chasing Katherine around with the big red bow he was trying to affix to her long enough to share some ground chicken and rice with the puppy. His tail wagged while he ate, and the tips of his ears dipped into the bowl.

  Shelby interlaced her fingers with mine. “What are we going to do with him? And before you say look for the owner, I’m going to stop you right there. Whoever tied him around the neck with a rope deserves to be run over by a pickup truck and pecked to death by Mona Lisa.”

  “Agreed. Let’s get him to the vet, have him checked out. Then we’ll go from there,” I said, watching as the little guy fell asleep in his food.

  “We can’t keep him,” she said, staring at the dog with hearts in her eyes. “Can we?”

  “Of course not. How would we decide who keeps him at the end of the summer? It would be a custody disaster.”

  “Right. Of course,” she agreed. But the hearts were still there.

  The pup sneezed in his sleep, and the sound was just about the cutest thing I’d heard in my entire life. “We’ll keep him for now,” I decided. “Until we can find him a good home.”

  “Fostering. Okay.” She nodded and squeezed my hand. “Thanks for carrying my brother’s pig all the way back.”

  “Sentences you only hear in Bootleg Springs.”

  She laughed and released my hand. “GT, we’re going to take Katherine’s puppy to the vet,” she called as she walked into the living room. “What’s all this? Is June getting a doctorate, too?”

  I followed her into the room. It was a comfortable space despite its over-the-top tidiness. Bookcases jammed with books flanked both sides of the brick fireplace. In front of them were stacks of boxes and a wh
iteboard with notes scrawled across it.

  “That’s Scooby June’s Callie Kendall research,” George said, adjusting Katherine’s bow and giving the pig a scratch. “She was convinced there was something wrong with Fake Callie’s story and did some digging.”

  “That’s a lot of digging,” Shelby observed. I could tell she was impressed.

  “When she gets focused on something, she doesn’t stop.” He grinned, flipping the lid off the top box.

  “I need to learn her ways or I’m never going to finish my dissertation,” she complained, peering into the box.

  Mellow hopped over to me and sniffed my shoe. I leaned down to stroke the bunny’s soft fur.

  “Don’t get her started on research,” I warned him. “You’ll have two Scoobys in the house.”

  “What’s this file about Constance Bodine?” Shelby asked, her interest piqued.

  I made myself comfortable on the couch. Mellow eyed me expectantly, so I picked her up.

  “Turns out that Connie Bodine’s accident might not have been an accident,” GT explained.

  I thought of my mother and realized I hadn’t had a status update from Gibson yet. Had he left his post? Had my mother been coaxed into a pickup truck by Jimmy Bob Prosser?

  “What would that have to do with Callie Kendall?” Shelby asked.

  GT shrugged. “Probably nothing. But she died coming back from some big fundraiser thing Mrs. Kendall attended in Baltimore.”

  “That’s an odd coincidence,” Shelby mused.

  “That’s what June thought, too. It’s not like they ran in similar social circles.”

  The puppy woke with a bark and skittered into the room. He stopped at my feet, tail wagging. I leaned down and picked him up. He cuddled up against the bunny, licked Mellow, then me.

  “Are you purposely trying to be the sexiest man in the universe right now?”

  I looked up and found Shelby watching me, hands on hips. “You’re cuddling a puppy and a bunny.”

  She had those hearts in her eyes again, but this time they were directed at me. And I sure as hell liked it. I had a feeling my dry spell might finally come to its official end.