Gin Fling (Bootleg Springs, #5)(23)

“Are we all agreed?” Bowie asked.

I dragged myself out of my melancholy. I had revenge to extract today. There wasn’t any room for sadness.

“One rule?” I clarified. “That’s it?”

“I’d like to submit for consideration that all the usual state laws should be observed today,” Devlin said. “You know, just to cover our bases. Keep us all out of jail.”

“Fine.” Scarlett sighed like he’d taken some of her fun away. “But if you start sayin’ things like ‘slow down’ or ‘maybe don’t drink two beers at once’ we’re gonna have words, McCallister.”

My sister was all bluster. The second our attention was caught by the approach of someone else from the lawn, Scarlett jumped into Devlin’s arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. She gave him a smacking kiss on the mouth.

Love was in the air.

“What are you doing here?” I bumped up the harshness in my tone when Shelby approached. The girl was a born actress. The smile evaporated right off her face, and I felt actual guilt.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. Scarlett—”

“I invited her,” Scarlett said, hopping out of her boyfriend’s arms. “And you, brother dear, had better behave. You’re both my guests.”

I gave Shelby a good glare, and she flipped me the bird as she stepped aboard. Something I realized no one else knew was out of character for her.

“Maybe it’s time we clear the air,” Scarlett suggested.

“Nothing needs clearing in my opinion,” Shelby said primly. “Jonah is welcome to be an ass to anyone he chooses.”

Devlin choked on his beer and abruptly looked anywhere but at me.

“But, Shelby, don’t y’all think—”

Shelby cut Scarlett off with a shake of her head. “It’s fine. Let’s just leave it alone.”

“Juney and George are catching a ride with Opal,” Cassidy said, changing the subject and snuggling under Bowie’s arm. “I didn’t think your deck could handle the weight of a pro football player.”

“Good thinking, Cass,” Gibs said.

“We’re already over the limit,” I muttered mostly under my breath while shooting a pointed look at Shelby.

“I, ah, take it your living arrangements have been a little rocky?” Bowie said quietly, offering me a beer.

“Understatement. I came home the other day, and she was interrogating half the town elders—some of them my clients—on the front porch trying to get the dirt on your family.”

“Maybe it wasn’t exactly what it seemed.” Bowie was the good guy. The peacemaker. And he was starting to sweat.

I felt pretty good about that.

I shook my head. “Oh, it was exactly how it seemed. I gotta tell you. I think it might be time for me to be moving on.”

Bowie had his beer in a stranglehold. I noticed that Cassidy was on the other side of the deck huddled together with Scarlett and Shelby.

“You put a ring on her yet?” I asked Bowie, changing the subject before he could get himself worked up about my announcement. I gave it about thirty seconds before he excused himself to go spread the word.

“What? Oh, uh. No. But real soon. As in maybe tonight. Jameson and I were fighting over who got to do it first. I won though. I’ve waited longer, and my ring’s already done. Apparently Jame isn’t as talented at goldsmithing as he is with everything else.” He nodded in his brother’s direction.

Jameson had small bandages all over both hands.

“Real soon though,” Bowie repeated himself, and I noticed he slid a hand into the pocket of his shorts.

We cast off from the dock, motoring across the lake in the direction of what sounded like one hell of a party already.

The better part of Bootleg Springs was waiting for us around a bend. Rocks jutted out into the warm water, creating a harbor of sorts. There were a dozen other decks already tied together. Girls in bikinis were lounging on pool floats. Guys were tossing beers and firing up grills. The more adventurous of the crowd were climbing the boulders and jumping off.

The scene smelled like sunshine and sunscreen.

This was why I loved Bootleg. It was also probably part of what Shelby was looking for in her research. These were people who lived their lives entwined. Neighbors who brought chicken noodle soup over when the flu was going around. Friends who would pick you up and drive you around when your car was in the shop. They’d spent all week together. Working, raising kids, shopping. And they chose to spend their Saturday having a good time.

I spotted June and George on Opal Bodine’s—no relation—deck. June was sitting with her feet in his lap, a book cracked open in her own.

While the others busied themselves tying off the deck to the two closest ones, I sidled up to Shelby. She looked like a kid on Christmas morning.

“This. Is. Amazing,” she breathed.

“I had a feeling you’d like it.”

“I can’t believe a place like this exists. People like this.” She shook her head in wonder. She was wearing cutoffs and a pink tank top that said, “I Have No Life. I’m a Psychology Major.” Her dark hair was tied in its usual tail and fed through a ball cap with her brother’s football number on it.

She was cute. Like friendly, girl-next-door, “always has a nice word to say about everyone” cute. I was surprised by the urge to reach out and wrap my arms around her, to make her laugh.