Gin Fling (Bootleg Springs, #5)(42)

“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.