Gin Fling (Bootleg Springs, #5)(60)

By the time I made it back to our front lawn, the party was in full swing.

They’d certainly put quite the effort into it. Someone had strung lights around tree trunks. Portable picnic tables were set up covered with white tablecloths. Gibson was manning the grill, Billy Ray sniffing around his feet with Katherine the pig.

And Shelby, well, Shelby was relaxing in a hammock with a lemonade just on the outside of the action. I made my way to her and gave the hammock a nudge.

She opened one eye. “Shower free?” she asked.

My back to the festivities, I trailed a finger up the inside of her thigh. There were so many things I still wanted to do to her, with her.

“It is. Did you know about this?” I asked.

“Do you think I would have insisted we come back here for Round Two if I knew there was a yard full of people waiting for us? This is the most disappointing surprise party I’ve ever been to,” she teased.

“We’ll make up for it tonight,” I promised.

“What’s that they say about a Bootleg party?” she mused. “Ain’t no party like a Bootleg party?”

“’Cause a Bootleg party don’t stop,” I finished. “But this one will stop. At a reasonable hour, too, if I have to fake food poisoning to get them out of here.”

“I’m looking forward to your fake explosive bowel issues later tonight,” she teased.

She held a hand out to me, and I pulled her out of the hammock. “I’m going to shower. Go make nice with your guests before we kick them out.”

“Oh, hey, Shelby?”

She paused.

I took a step closer to her so no one could overhear. “I’m going to make sure I’m the most memorable summer fling you’ve ever had in your life,” I told her.

She grinned and bit her lip. “I just might hold you to that.”

Shelby waved over her shoulder, and I wished more than anything that I was following her up those stairs.

“So? Were you surprised?” My mother and Scarlett approached, looking smug.

“Shocked,” I said. “I thought this was going to be a quiet cookout.” That didn’t start for a few more hours and ended at a reasonable hour.

“Your mama was telling me how you never wanted a party or a fuss over your birthday. Why, Jenny, did I tell you that he neglected to tell us that it was his birthday last year?” Scarlett said, dishing the dirt.

“You mentioned that,” Mom said, winking at me.

“And I just couldn’t let another year pass without us giving Jonah a proper birthday party. He’s only owed thirty-one of them,” Scarlett said.

It was oddly sweet. Still, incredibly inconvenient. But I guessed I could put forth the effort to appreciate their work.

When Shelby returned, in a frothy sundress that teased the eye as it floated around her thighs, I was engaged in a horseshoes battle with my brothers.

Someone had turned the music on to, what was that? Eighties rock? I supposed my birthday got a reprieve from the country music so preferred in Olamette County.

We ate—someone had been kind enough to make grilled chicken and provide salad fixings in addition to the standard artery-clogging cookout fare—and drank and shot the shit.

Jimmy Bob Prosser made an appearance, presenting me with a gift certificate for his hardware store and a stolen kiss on the cheek from my mother before he left. She beamed after him, and I found myself unable to be anything but happy for her.

Now, if the guy went and broke her heart, I’d be enlisting my brothers for some Bootleg Justice. It was only fair.

A pickup bounced down the driveway and pulled into the grass next to Gibson’s SUV. Jameson and Leah Mae, both beaming brighter than the sun, linked hands and strolled our way. I nudged Bowie next to me, pointed my beer bottle.

“Well, well. Here come the soon-to-be newly engaged,” Bowie observed.

Jameson’s imminent proposal plans were still cloaked in mystery. But it made my day even brighter, knowing that another brother was marching happily toward his future.

George and Shelby’s parents were enthusiastic about the chaos and made plans to attend Tuesday’s Cockspurs game. Devlin stepped in when Scarlett batted her lashes and tried to recruit them to the team. He’d fallen for it once before and paid a very steep hangover price.

When evening fell and the string lights twinkled on, Mom and Shelby marched out a cake with sparklers and candles. The Bodines serenaded me with the worst, off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday” I’d ever heard in my life.

Little Billy Ray howled along with them. It was awful and beautiful.

I laughed and smiled. Ate and drank. Embarrassed, I opened gifts, both gag and thoughtful. And I watched Shelby at the opposite end of the table.

I caught her eye, and the slow, sweet smile on her face warmed something in me that had been cold for too long.

And then I took an elbow to the gut.

“Looks like someone took his pants off today.” Scarlett grinned up at me, a cat that ate the canary.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” I said, slinging an arm around her shoulder.

“No, but you kiss and moon around with puppy dog eyes. She’s a nice girl, Jonah. I approve.”

“You practically picked her out for me. I should hope you’d approve,” I teased.

“Now listen, I know this is all new to you. But y’all should probably define exactly what this is because news will be all over town by tomorrow.”