by Lucy Score
“If those two do any more colluding behind my back I’m going to…” I trailed off. I didn’t even know how to threaten people.
“You’re going to turn your best friend loose on them to make them rue the day they were ever born,” Scarlett filled in for me. Her loyal vindictiveness was one of the many things I loved about her.
“Yes! That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“I already have the perfect place picked out for their bodies,” she continued on. “All you have to do is tell me exactly what happened.”
I sat down in a kitchen chair and proceeded to do exactly that.
When I was done, Scarlett was real quiet. Too quiet.
“Well?” I demanded.
“I’m tryin’ to remember where I put that second blue tarp. I don’t think we can fit both bodies in one.”
“So I’m not crazy for being madder than a wet hen?”
“Your daddy steps in to interfere with your love life and the guy of your dreams decides not to fight for you? I’d be bustin’ down the wall between your houses so you can steal all of Bowie’s shit. Then drive it over to your daddy’s house and throw it on the lawn. If those two are so cozy they might as well live together!”
“I spent years thinkin’ there was something wrong with me for him not wanting me,” I confessed.
“Oh, sweetie. The only thing wrong with this situation is those two dumbasses shoving their heads up each other’s butts. I get where your daddy was coming from. He saw the way you two were lookin’ at each other, all smoldery like. He didn’t want you making him a pappy too early and ruining your life like my mama.”
“I know how birth control works,” I pointed out.
“And amen to that. But what your daddy stupidly did was out of love. Stupidity and love. So hang on to that. You can and should be mad at him for a while. But Cass, Harlan loves you. He made one mistake.”
“A big one.”
“Yeah, but one big mistake is better than 36,000 small to mid-sized ones.”
I got what she was trying to tell me. It was okay to be mad, but I shouldn’t be forgetting how lucky I was to grow up with a Harlan Tucker instead of a Jonah Bodine. “I’m still going to stay mad at him for a good long while.”
“As you should,” Scarlett said, loyally. “Now, what about Bowie? And I want best friend points for not immediately dusting off my Bowie and Cassidy’s wedding scrapbook from seventh grade.”
“Burn it,” I told her. “He made his choice. He would rather have my father’s approval than me. There’s no way I’m forgiving him for that.”
“I can’t burn it,” she argued. “It has your junior high vows that you wrote about always letting him have the top thumb in hand-holding.”
“If you don’t burn that thing, I’m coming over right now and doing it for you!”
“Okay. Okay,” she relented. “Let’s talk about the almost sex.”
“Almost sex,” I repeated. “So it wasn’t actual sex, right?” For some reason, I’d been in a panic thinking that my first sexual experience with Bowie had gone unfinished. First and last experience, I decided vehemently.
“For it to count as sex, you have to have at least fifty-one percent of the penis,” Scarlett instructed.
I heard a knock at my front door and headed in that direction. “Fifty-one percent, huh?” I opened the door to a riotous bouquet of flowers. “What the—”
“What? What’s happening?” Scarlett asked from the phone.
The flowers lowered to reveal Bowie’s face.
“I’ll call you back, Scarlett. I have to murder your brother.”
“Wait! Do you need the tarp?” she asked.
I started to shut the door in his flowery face, but Bowie stuck his foot out and cheerfully shoved his way inside.
“Now listen here, Bowie Bodine—” I started.
With careful precision, he set the vase down on the floor and turned to me. He slid his hands into my hair, thumbs resting on my jaw. Before I could yell any profanities at all, he was kissing me.
Gentle and slow like he had all the time in the world. Like he was reassuring us both that this was exactly right. I felt the thawing, like a hair dryer on sidewalk ice. Parts of me were puddling up nicely.
He applied just the right amount of pressure that had me opening my mouth like I was under a spell. When his tongue danced into mine, I let out a whimper. He kissed me long and soft, and my entire body came to life. I couldn’t quite remember why I shouldn’t be letting him do this. I was too busy scrambling to remember what underwear I was wearing and if I’d remembered to shave my legs last night.
Then I heard a voice coming to me from the phone I hadn’t hung up. “What’s happening? Are y’all neckin’? Did you murder him?”
Bowie’s little sister.
My brain grabbed hold of that. Scarlett was Bowie’s little sister, and he’d once lied to my face and told me he saw me as nothing but the same.
I pressed my palms to that crisp dress shirt he was wearing and shoved.
“Hold your horses! There’s not gonna be any more kissing!” I told him.
He grinned down at me looking like he hadn’t a care in the dang world.
“Cass, honey, kissing isn’t the only thing I’m after.”
I looked down at his crotch, and sure enough it looked like Bowie Bodine, Jr. was very happy to see me.
“I can still hear y’all,” Scarlett chirped through the phone.
He plucked it out of my hand and disconnected the call. I realized I was still plastered up against his chest like a bug on a windshield.
“We’re not having sex. Not ever, Bowie,” I said taking a big step back. “You picked my father over me.”
“I did no such thing,” he argued, advancing on me. I found myself pinned up against the back of the couch and his long, lean body. Sir Edmund Hillary dashed across the top of the cushions. Bowie skimmed his hands from my shoulders to my wrists in one long stroke. “I wanted to be good enough for you, Cass.”
“You backed off of me because my father asked you to.”
“I thought he was saying I wasn’t good enough for you.”
“You told me you didn’t have feelings for me, Bowie!” It was like we were having two different conversations.
“I lied,” he said simply. “I’ve had big feelings for you for as long as I can remember.”
A panic was welling up inside me. He was saying all the things I’d wanted to hear for so damn long. And now they weren’t enough.
He released my wrists and threaded his fingers into my hair again, moving in on me in slow motion. His lips found mine, and it was like my body was hypnotized into accepting the pleasure he was offering. I kissed him back like my life depended on it. It wasn’t so slow and leisurely now because there was a fire growing between us.
Why did this feel so good? So right?
“Nope. No. Not happening,” I said, pushing him back and then dug my fingers into his shirt to hold him in place.
“I’m gettin’ some mixed messages here, Cass,” Bowie said with that damned boyish grin.
“I’m furious with you.”
He traced a finger down my nose. “I’m gonna make you forgive me, Cassidy. Then I’m gonna spend about a year kissing you to make up for lost time.”
I shook my head. “I’m not forgiving you, Bowie Bodine. You broke my heart.” Stop admitting things, Cassidy, you damn moron!
He cupped my face in his hands. “I broke mine, too. Now I’m gonna put them both back together and you and I are gonna spend the rest of our lives together.”
“Did you confiscate some hallucinogenic drugs today from a student? Do you even know what you’re sayin’?”
“I sure do. I’m saying I’m gonna marry you so you might as well hurry up and forgive me so we can move on to the good stuff.”
“You’ve lost your damn mind. I just got cats. Cats, Bowie! I’ve committed to the cat lady lifestyle and now you come runnin’ and exp
ect me to marry you? You are the damnedest man on the planet!”
“Did y’all see that bouquet Bowie Bodine bought for Cassidy Tucker? It’s about damn time!”
“I had a feelin’ puttin’ them in that newspaper poll would stir things up!”
“Did y’all see her throw him out of her house?”
“And the smile on his face? That girl just waved a red flag in front of a bull. He’s a Bodine. You can’t tell them not to do something.”
“They’ll be married by spring.”
31
Cassidy
The station smelled like bad coffee and good pastries when I entered the next morning.
“Your boyfriend is my favorite person right now,” Bubba announced, cheerfully wiping crumbs off his uniform shirt and tie.
“Boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend.” I was still in a mood from the Bowie-Dad situation. Also, the Bowie kissing the crap out of me situation.
“Your beau then,” Fanny Sue said, handing me a paper plate with an assortment of delicate pastries on it. “He’s the best thing to happen to us all year.”
Confused, I took the plate. “What the hell are y’all talking about?” I demanded.
“Bowie brought us goodies. And he left this for you,” Bex announced, handing over an envelope and giving me an expectant smirk.
“Your eyebrow gets any higher and that ring is gonna get stuck in your hair,” I warned her with a grumble.
I took the envelope and the pastries over to my desk making a show of being here to work. Booting up my computer, I pointedly ignored the card.
“I don’t think she’s gonna open it,” Bubba hissed.
“She’ll open it,” Bex predicted, unconcerned with the fact that I could hear them.
The station’s front door opened, and my father strolled in. He shed his winter coat and his hat on the rack next to the bookcase that held all of our public safety brochures.
“Mornin’.” He said it to everyone but looked directly at me. I was far too engrossed in staring at my login screen to pay him any mind.
Everyone else called out their greetings. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Dad’s shoulders slump and I staved off the guilt. He’d earned my wrath. He deserved to know that I was unhappy with him.
“What’s all this?” Connelly asked appearing at Bubba’s desk, eyeing up the pastries.
Oh, hell. The last thing I needed was Mr. Where’s Your Loyalty knowing a Bodine was trying to get into my pants.
“Cassidy’s bein’ courted,” Fanny Sue explained. “Isn’t it romantic?” I shot her a death glare telegraphing the fact that she should shut her trap immediately.
Connelly took another look at the spread and rolled his eyes. He muttered something that sounded an awful lot like “hillbillies” before heading on into the conference room.
Bex snickered when the door slammed behind him. “Maybe if he were a better investigator he could solve this case and get out of this hillbilly town,” she said before heading back into the property room to answer the ringing phone.
Relief coursed through me, and I flopped back in my chair. “Jesus, Fanny Sue. He can’t know about Bowie making an ass of himself. He already thinks I’m too involved with the family,” I told her.
Fanny Sue snorted indignantly. “What the hell are you supposed to do? Stay away from everyone in town who’s ever committed a crime or been related to someone suspected of committing a crime?”
The idiocy of it didn’t make my job more secure. I was determined to ignore the card that was burning a hot hole in my consciousness. I made it a whole six more minutes before I quietly ripped open the envelope.
It was a card with a glittery red heart on it.
Cassidy,
You’ve had my heart for longer than you know. Say yes.
Yours always,
Bowie
Say yes? Yes to what? Forgiving him? Dating him? Getting naked with him? Marrying him? Or all of it?
The station door opened and one of the baristas from Yee Haw Yarn and Coffee strolled in, yanking earbuds out of her ears.
“Got a delivery for y’all,” she announced, hefting a tray of to-go coffees.
“Woo wee!” Fanny Sue was a sucker for Yee Haw’s coffee. It beat the station sludge hands down.
“It’s from Bowie Bodine,” the barista announced shimmying her shoulders. “He wanted to make sure his girl Cassidy got the good stuff today.” She cracked her gum and wiggled her eyebrows.
I whipped my head around to make sure the conference room door was still shut tight.
“Keep the Bowie part zipped around Mr. Sunshine,” Fanny Sue advised, jerking a thumb toward the conference room. “It’s on the down low.”
“More like low down,” I muttered.
“What was that you were saying about not having a boyfriend?” Bex asked wickedly, reaching for a cup of coffee.
“Shut. Up. We’re not dating. In fact, he’s the last man on the planet I’d date.”
“You’ve got red glitter all over your face,” Fanny Sue pointed out.
“I told you she’d open the card,” Bex said.
“I hate you all,” I said. I still took one of the cups of coffee. But only because it would be a sin to dump Yee Haw coffee down the drain. And I had those pastries on my desk. Ill-gotten pastries, of course. I should throw them in the trash. Or better yet, save them until tonight and then go next door and smash them in Bowie’s face.
But he’d just try and kiss me again, and my body would do that thing where it wouldn’t stop him because it was too busy trying to get naked.
Damn it. I needed back-up.
“Thanks for meeting me, Juney,” I said, sliding into the booth across from her at Moonshine.
“Why do they keep changing the specials?” June asked, staring at her menu. “I like having the open-faced turkey on Tuesdays. Turkey Tuesdays. Now, it’s a meatball sub.”
“You like meatball subs,” I pointed out.
“On Saturday nights. Not on Turkey Tuesdays.”
“Why would it taste any different on a Tuesday?” I asked, not necessarily wanting the June version.
“I have my dietary needs carefully mapped out throughout the week to optimize my nutritional intake. I’m getting my period Sunday so I need red meat on Saturday to increase my iron levels.”
I was already sorry I had asked. “Get the turkey then.”
“It’s not on special,” June argued.
“Juney, you make more money than half the people in this town combined. Spend the extra two bucks and quit complaining.” June was an actuary, and though none of us knew exactly what that meant, I knew that she worked with numbers and made a lot of money. My sister had always had a brain for numbers. Her investment portfolio made her the Bootleg Springs version of Richard Branson. She had a finger in just about everything.
“I’m not complaining. I’m explaining. You asked. I answered.”
I was beginning to think I’d made a big mistake coming to June for advice on my love life.
“Hey, y’all.” Leah Mae looking fashionable in an oversized pumpkin-colored sweater and leggings chirped. “Mind if I join you?”
“Sure,” I said, sliding in so she could take a seat.
June folded her menu neatly and slid it to the edge of the booth. “I spoke to the landlord yesterday. She came down another hundred dollars on the rent,” she told Leah Mae.
“That’s great! When do we sign?” Leah Mae asked.
“I’m holding out for another hundred. Cheaper rent gives you more breathing room on your profit and loss,” June said.
June was partnering with Leah Mae on her clothing boutique. Leah Mae was bringing the creativity and the products. June was bringing the cash and the negotiating skills.
Leah Mae blew out a nervous breath. “Do you think she’ll drop it again? I think I can swing the rent as is.”
“We’ll hold out,” June said firmly.
“No one knows business in this
town better than June,” I promised Leah Mae. “You’ll get your cheaper rent and be open before you know it.”
She chewed on her lip. “Okay. Okay. Ooh. Meatball sub!”
“Ugh,” June grumbled.
“Don’t you like meatball subs?” Leah Mae asked.
“Don’t get her started,” I begged. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“How about the fact that you’re dating Bowie Bodine?” Leah Mae suggested, brightening.
“Let’s go back to the meatball sub,” I suggested.
“You and Bowie?” June asked.
“We’re not dating. We had a moment and now I’m furious with him and never forgiving him,” I explained lamely.
“I’d like to hear about this moment,” Leah Mae prodded.
“I’d like to hear solutions on how to get rid of a man that I don’t want to date.”
“I’d like to know why there aren’t any turkey sandwiches on special today,” June muttered.
“You look stressed,” Leah Mae said to me.
“I feel like I’m five seconds away from losing my damn mind,” I confessed.
“You know what you need?” Leah Mae asked.
“A turkey sandwich?” June suggested.
I picked up my menu and smacked June on the head with it.
“Girls Night Out,” Leah Mae said.
32
Cassidy
I was absolutely crazy for being here, I decided, easing down the drive to the rambling, cedar-shingled house on the lake’s edge. Yes siree. I’d done gone and lost all my marbles. I was mad at my dad, pissed off at Bowie, annoyed with my sister, and the only thing I could control was work.
I’d been on patrol, cruising through Bootleg, hoping that I could get some air and settle my thoughts. And get away from those damn pastries.