The Bourbon Thief(36)


“You don’t look like any genie I’ve ever seen before. What’s the catch?”

“No catch.”

“There’s always a catch. How are you, who won’t inherit anything until you’re twenty-one, going to give me a house and a hundred acres of land?”

“Easy,” she said. “I’m going to marry you.”





12

Tamara was proud of Levi. He didn’t laugh in her face. She expected that he would.

Now, he did laugh near her face, but not quite in it.

“Laugh all you want,” Tamara said. “I am going to marry you.”

“I’m flattered, Rotten. I really am. I had expected a lot of nonsense tonight from you, but a marriage proposal? Now, that’s special. You still watching The Young and the Restless?”

He sat back on the steps, leaned on his elbows again, crossed his legs at the ankles. She watched his every movement, surprised and pleased to discover she wanted him as much as she ever had. Nice try, Granddaddy. He’d only bruised her. He hadn’t broken her.

Levi waved his hand.

“Go on,” he said. “I’m all ears. This is a good show—the Tamara Makes a Fool of Herself show. Very entertaining. You should be on Carson with this routine.”

“I’m seventeen,” she said, undaunted. The show must go on. “That’s a problem, but not a big problem. A girl can get married at seventeen if she has a parent’s permission.”

“Like your mother will let you marry me with anything less than a machine gun to her head and probably not even then.”

“Not my mother. My father. Judge Headley will marry us.”

“And why will he do that?”

“I’ll tell him I’m pregnant and it’s yours. He’s done it before. When his daughter’s best friend got pregnant at sixteen, he married her to her boyfriend.”

“Her boyfriend probably wasn’t thirty years old. I am.”

“He’ll do it. I know he will. He believes in marriage. And—even better—he’s a big-shot judge. No one will question it if he marries us.”

“You’re smarter than you look. This might be the cleverest murder plot in history. You’re trying to get me killed, right? This oughta do it.”

Tamara rolled her eyes.

“I’m trying to get you rich. You think you’d take me a little more seriously.”

“Why? Why do you care?” Levi sat up straight. “Why would anyone in their right mind try to give money to someone they don’t have to give it to?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do. You’re Granddaddy’s only child. It’s your birthright. I’m not his granddaughter. I’m not blood. I shouldn’t inherit anything. We get married and we both win. We inherit everything, you and me. Then we get divorced in a few years and split it fifty-fifty. Half of a fortune is better than nothing, right?”

“Can’t spend that money if I’m dead. And your mother will kill me.”

“She won’t. Once we have the money, everyone will do what we say. She tries anything and we have her arrested.”

“You are a child, Tamara Maddox. I’m not marrying a girl who still eats Frosted Flakes twice a day. And don’t pretend you don’t.”

“But, Levi—”

“What?”

“They’re great.”

Levi leaned over, put his head between his knees and half laughed, half groaned.

“Levi? You’re behaving oddly.” He was, too.

He slapped his knees and stood up.

“Well, this has been worth the price of admission,” he said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to run along. The real world is awaiting my return.”

Tamara reached for him and took his arm. He looked at where she touched him. Why did he keep doing that? Did he like it? Or did he hate it? Didn’t matter. She didn’t let go.

“Levi, please.”

“Please what?” he asked.

“You kissed me on my birthday because you wanted to.”

“I don’t go around kissing people I don’t want to kiss.”

“You were going to...”

“Fuck you? Probably.”

Tamara blushed. “Do you have to say it that way?”

“You’re planning on telling this judge of yours I knocked you up and yet you can’t handle talk about us fucking? Yeah, I wanted to fuck you that day. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Tamara lifted her chin, met his eyes. “It meant something to me.”

“What did it mean, Rotten? Tell me.”

“Momma sold all the horses to punish me for kissing you. And you know what? I still don’t regret it.”

“Dammit, Rotten.”

“Sorry,” she said.

He sighed and leaned back against the wall. He shook his head.

“Poor little rich girl. What I wouldn’t give to have your problems...”

“Marry me, and all my problems will be your problems.”

“That sounds like a marriage vow to me.”

“It could be. We could write our own vows,” she said. “I’ll vow to clean the stalls without you telling me two hundred times and you’ll vow to let me ride my horse whenever I want, even when it’s raining.”

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