Bourbon Bliss: Bootleg Springs Book Four

by Kingsley, Claire

  I knew it was coming. I just didn’t want to face it. Because if there was one thing I knew about myself and relationships—sex meant the end. And I didn’t want to lose him.

  Friday night, he invited me over to his rental for an evening in. We’d been out in public doing a lot of socializing over the previous few days—dinner with my parents, another movie with my sister and Bowie—and George seemed to realize I was at my limit. A night in with him and his bunny sounded perfect.

  We ate dinner, then got cozy on the couch to watch ESPN. Mellow hopped over, so he scooped her up and set her gently in my lap. Her tiny nose wiggled as her eyes slowly closed.

  “She sure likes you.” He ran his finger between her ears, then tilted my face toward his. “I sure like you, too.”

  His kiss was familiar, his lips so inviting. He touched my face and put his hands in my hair. This wasn’t the first time we’d kissed on his couch—or mine. But this time, I could feel the difference. There was a hunger, simmering just below the surface. He wanted me.

  The truth was, I wanted him too. I kissed him back eagerly, enjoying the way this felt, even though fear warred with my physical desire.

  He scooped Mellow out of my lap and set her carefully on the floor. She hopped over to her little pillow, as if deciding her nap wasn’t over.

  And then he was leading me into the bedroom.

  I followed, licking my lips, holding his hand. He brought me into his bedroom and laid me down on the bed.

  He leaned over me and kissed me again, deeper than before. His tongue caressed mine in a slow dance and his weight was tantalizing.

  This was good. I could do this.

  But that fear was still there. I wasn’t afraid of George. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that if I said no, he would stop. That wasn’t the problem.

  He pulled my shirt over my head and palmed my breast, his mouth tasting mine. He’d been patient. His weight on top of me and his deep, hungry kisses were very enticing. Everything pointed to this being right.

  I couldn’t understand what was holding me back.

  He kissed down my neck and slipped my bra down. His tongue ran over my nipple and it did feel extraordinary. The velvety texture of his tongue sent sparks running through me, making my skin prickle.

  Closing my eyes, I tried to relax—tried to tell myself George was different.

  He pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. Unbuttoned my pants and slid them down my legs. As the clothing came off, my anxiety grew. I was at war with myself, indecision distracting me from the feel of his hands on my body.

  Stop it, June. Stop thinking and feel.

  George hooked his thumb into the waistband of my panties while his other hand cupped my face. “Are you with me?”

  He was asking permission. I needed to give him an answer.

  “Yes.” The word escaped my lips on a sigh. I hoped saying it aloud—making a firm choice—would calm the storm of anxiety swirling in my brain.

  It did. For a few moments, at least.

  Closing my eyes again, I let him touch and taste me. He kissed my neck and sucked on my nipples. Those hands that were so appealing caressed my skin.

  He paused to roll on a condom and settled on top of me, between my legs. I felt him thrust in, not too hard, checking in with me to be sure I was okay.

  “Yes.” I said it again. Because I wanted that yes to be true.

  The mad cascade of thoughts in my brain didn’t stop. It continued on, relentlessly reminding me of what this meant. Questions bubbled up through the chaos in my head. Was he really different? Was I capable of this? Had I made a terrible mistake?

  Why couldn’t I just be normal?

  He moved and thrust into me. Somewhere, beneath the noise of my thoughts, I knew my body was responding. I knew this felt good—that the physical sensations were pleasurable. I should have been losing myself in this experience. He moved with expert grace, with sensual strength that should have had me mindlessly calling his name.

  But I wasn’t. Because I wasn’t normal. I was June Tucker, and I’d never understood how to do this right. How to get out of my head long enough to be intimate with another person. I’d come as close as I ever had with George. But now that we were crossing the line into physical intimacy, I was lost.

  I couldn’t do it.

  Sadness poured through me as I felt his climax build. I clung to his back and buried my face in his neck. He murmured and groaned and I tried to be there with him. I didn’t want him to know.

  “Yes,” I said. “Yes, come.”

  He held me tight as his body went rigid. I felt the deep pulsing of his cock inside me. I didn’t make a show of faking—I wouldn’t have known how—but I rode his orgasm with him. I wanted him to enjoy it. To be happy. To feel good.

  But I didn’t.

  I couldn’t. Something inside me didn’t work right. I was weird. Everyone knew it. I wasn’t built for human relationships, and I’d been wrong to think I could have this with George. Sexual intercourse didn’t leave any room to hide, and he was going to feel my failure.

  He rolled off me, his brow furrowed. “Baby, what happened?”

  “Nothing,” I said, trying to hold back the tide of emotion. Mentally, I stepped away. Separated myself. “Nothing happened. It was perfectly satisfactory.”

  “Why are you doing that?” he asked.

  “Doing what?”

  “Shutting me out.”

  “I’m hardly shutting you out. I’m completely naked in your bed.”

  “You didn’t come.”

  The words flew at me, an accusation I couldn’t deny. “You don’t know that.”

  “Uh, yeah I do. Are you okay? Did I do something?”

  “I’m fine. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I needed to go. This was scary and uncomfortable—making me feel inept and inadequate. I didn’t like it. I got out of bed, scooping up my clothes.

  “June.”

  I tugged on my underwear and turned away from him to put on my bra. He said my name again, but I didn’t answer.

  “June, please.”

  I’d managed to quickly pull on my pants, but the emotion in his voice made me pause. I slowly slid my arm through my shirt sleeve.

  “What?”

  “Talk to me.”

  I turned to look him in the eye. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I swear.”

  Tears burned my eyes. I couldn’t keep standing here in his room. I pulled my shirt down and walked away. Out the door. To my car. Away from him. Away from the inevitable end.

  21

  George

  This was some messed-up shit.

  I gaped at the empty doorway June had just gone through. If I stared hard enough, maybe she’d reappear, and I’d realize the last five minutes had been some kind of crazy hallucination.

  She didn’t come back.

  My stomach turned over, a wave of sickness surging through me as I got up to deal with the condom. I cleaned up in the bathroom, tugged on a pair of sweats, then hit the couch. Mellow bounded over, so I scooped her up into my lap.

  What the fuck had just happened?

  I replayed everything in my mind, looking for where I’d failed. Where I’d gone wrong. We’d been kissing on the couch, things getting hot and heavy. I hadn’t sensed any problems. When I’d led her to the bedroom, she’d come along willingly. It wasn’t like I’d picked her up and tossed her on my bed. Granted, there were times when that was called for, but I’d known our first time wasn’t it.

  I’d taken things slow. Made sure we were on the same page. She’d said yes. Twice. I’d given her every opportunity to tell me to slow down. To let me know if she wasn’t ready. I’d thought she trusted me enough. That she knew I would have stopped if she said no.

  Why had she done that? Why had she let me do that to her?

  I stroked Mellow’s soft fur, feeling the barely-there weight of her in my lap. The way June had walked out left me gutted. I felt hollow, staring at the floor be
cause I couldn’t think of anything else to do.

  * * *

  I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I woke up the next morning with my neck jacked up from sleeping cockeyed on the couch. Mellow snoozed on my chest. I pet her a few times and she cracked one of those blue eyes open.

  “Hey, little one. Are things still shit?”

  She closed her eye.

  “Figured.” I got up and set her on her pillow, then went to get her breakfast.

  I had enough food in the house that I didn’t have to leave for a couple of days. No word from June, which I took as a bad sign. I didn’t call her either, but what was I supposed to say after that? We’d slept together and she’d left like the room was on fire.

  Another day and I had to drag myself into town. I was out of groceries, and more importantly, I was out of alcohol. That wasn’t going to fly. I figured I’d stop at Build-A-Shine and mix up as potent a concoction as Sonny Fullson could come up with. It might taste like gasoline when I was finished, but all I needed was something that would get my tall ass good and shit-faced.

  Unfortunately, when I walked into the Pop In to grab some groceries, who should be there but Sheriff Tucker. Of course I’d run into her father. This damn town was too small to avoid anyone.

  “Hey there, GT,” he said. The friendliness in his tone suggested he didn’t want to shoot me, but I couldn’t tell if he knew that June and I had essentially broken up.

  I nodded. “Sheriff.”

  “You all right, son?”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. I wasn’t all right, and I was a terrible liar. But it wasn’t like I could talk to her dad about this.

  “Yeah, just fine. How’s Mrs. Tucker?”

  “Oh, Nadine’s good.”

  An awkward silence hung between us. I was just about to tell him to have a good afternoon and get on with my shopping, when he spoke. This time, his voice was serious.

  “Let’s go have a drink.”

  I tried not to groan. I didn’t want to have a drink with June’s father. Not after I’d slept with his daughter and sent her running. He clearly knew something was going on. Why did he want to sit down and have a beer?

  But I also felt like I couldn’t say no.

  “All right.”

  We went outside and for a second, I was afraid he was going to put me in his patrol car. Thankfully he just mumbled something about seeing me at the Lookout.

  When we got there, I followed him inside. We ordered drinks from Nicolette, but didn’t sit at the bar. She handed us two beers and Sheriff Tucker led me to a table off to the side.

  Alone. Where there would be fewer witnesses.

  I sank into the chair and took a drink of my beer.

  “June seems upset,” he said after a long moment. “You know anything about that?”

  “I suppose it’s because of me. But I have to be honest, I don’t really know what happened.”

  He nodded slowly, like my answer hadn’t surprised him. “My June Bug is… different.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I waited for him to continue.

  “She’s whip smart. I’m sure you know that.”

  “She’s incredibly smart,” I said. “It’s one of the things I like about her.”

  He smoothed down his mustache. “But she has a big ole blind spot.”

  “A blind spot?”

  “Sure. There are things that baffle even that big brain of hers.”

  I traced my thumb through the moisture on my beer bottle. “You’re saying she’s smart when it comes to certain things, but other things she doesn’t understand.”

  “Right,” he said. “How do I put this… you see… well…”

  I waited while Sheriff Tucker stumbled over his words.

  “You know,” he said, gesturing with one hand. “You must have noticed she’s not the best at relating to others.”

  “She was doing just fine with me.” I took another drink. “At least, I thought so.”

  “I reckon she was. The problem is… She missed things. Cassidy always did a good job helping her out. But relationships were… oh, how do I explain this?”

  I had a feeling at least some of what made people think of June as different came directly from her dad.

  “I think you mean she’s smart when it comes to math, and statistics, and her job. But she’s not very experienced when it comes to relationships.”

  “Yes,” he said with a definitive nod. “There are so few people who understand her. She’s too smart for half of ’em, and too… unique for the other half.”

  “I have to be honest with you, Sheriff. I’m not sure why you’re telling me this. June…” I glanced away, feeling the tug of pain in my chest when I said her name. “She walked out on me a few days ago and I haven’t heard from her since.”

  “Hmm.” His eyes were on his beer. “I had a feeling something of the sort had happened.”

  “I’m not sure what I did. But whatever it was, I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to say, son.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Damn girl gets it from me, most like. I’m no good at this either,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “She’s never been with anyone who thought she was worth the trouble.”

  Something about June was coalescing in my mind. A realization I couldn’t quite pin down. I didn’t know much about her past relationships, but I had a feeling this was important.

  “You’re saying she’s been hurt? Did guys she dated in the past treat her badly?”

  “First one did,” he said, and there was no mistaking the heat in his tone. “There were a couple others, when she got older. But I think that first one set the tone. Didn’t court her properly. Hurt her in the end.”

  She’s never been with anyone who thought she was worth the trouble.

  The sheriff’s words ran through my head on repeat. I knew he was right—I could feel it. And it broke my fucking heart.

  “I think what you’re trying to tell me is that I need to be the one to reach out to her,” I said. “If I think she’s… worth the trouble.”

  He sighed, his shoulders relaxing, like he was relieved I’d figured out what he’d been trying to say. “That’s right.”

  I nodded slowly and took a drink of my beer. Damn straight she was worth the trouble. I still didn’t know what I’d done wrong. But it seemed to me that her daddy was trying to send me back onto the field. Maybe the game wasn’t over yet.

  22

  June

  Even the distraction of SportsCenter couldn’t pull me from my malaise. I sat on my parents’ couch, the game ticker rolling across the bottom of the TV screen, and felt miserable.

  I’d been miserable since the day I’d walked out of George’s house. And it wasn’t getting better.

  My parents had invited me, along with Cassidy and Bowie, for Sunday dinner. On a Wednesday. Which usually would have irritated me to no end, but today I didn’t care. I hadn’t felt like cooking anyway.

  The meal had been fine, as these things went. My dad had made half-hearted attempts to pull me into the conversation. My mom had asked me nosy questions. Suspicious sister that she was, Cassidy had eyed me across the table. I hadn’t said a word about George, but I could tell she knew something. It was only a matter of time before she stopped making out with Bowie on the back porch—thinking none of us knew—and came inside to force me into talking.

  I couldn’t decide if I hoped she did or hoped she didn’t.

  She made the decision for me. I heard her attempt at quietly sneaking in through the back door, and she said something to Bowie. He stayed in the kitchen, presumably to help my mom with the dishes.

  “Juney, what’s going on with you?” she asked when she came into the living room. “I’ve never seen you so upset.”

  “I’m not upset, I’m getting a cold.”

  She raised an eyebrow and plopped down on the couch next to me. “Don’t lie to me. Yo
u’re no good at lying, and you shouldn’t lie to your sister anyway. Talk to me. Maybe I can help.”

  I cleared my throat, trying to find the right words. How did one express things they didn’t understand? I couldn’t sort out what I was feeling. How could I tell Cassidy?

  “I slept with George.”

  Cassidy stiffened. “I can’t tell how you feel about that by the way you said it. Did you want to sleep with him?”

  I nodded, then shook my head. “Yes, but no, but I don’t know.”

  “He didn’t force you, did he?”

  “No,” I said, surprising myself with my own vehemence. “No, it wasn’t like that at all.”

  “Okay, so what was it like?”

  “I think it was nice. There were things about it that I enjoyed, physically.” I paused, twisting my hands together in my lap. “I don’t know how to talk about this, Cassidy.”

  Her expression softened and she reached over to grab my hand. “Oh, June Bug. It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me the details if you don’t want to. I just want to know why sleeping with George made you upset. What did he do to you?”

  I shook my head. “It’s not what he did to me. It’s what I did to him. I don’t understand how to do this part. I like George. I’m intensely attracted to him in a way I’ve never experienced before. He makes me want to be with him all the time, and you know how I feel about other humans.”

  “I sure do.”

  “But Cassidy… men don’t like me after they’ve slept with me.”

  “What? What are you going on about? What men?”

  I swallowed hard. “You know about Hank Preston, in high school. We dated for a while. And then he wanted to have intercourse. I thought it was what I should do—what a normal girl would do. Many teenagers were having sex by then. But after we did, he broke up with me.”

  Cassidy’s face reddened as I spoke. “Hank Preston was a no-good, dick-licking son of a motherless goat. He treated you terribly and if I wasn’t such an upstanding citizen, I’d have burned his house down a long time ago. Or at least, I wouldn’t have stopped Scarlett from doing it.”