The Bourbon Thief(38)

“You didn’t turn me down. You only think you did. I still haven’t heard a flat ‘no,’ only a pile of jokes and excuses. Now, I’m getting married and it’s going to be you or it’s going to be somebody else and that somebody else is going to be real grateful to get to spend your money. What’s your answer? I’m not going to ask again. I don’t have time.”

Levi raised his hands to his head and yanked back on his hair, giving his face a ghoulish look for a moment. It made her laugh.

“In the Pantheon of Vexatious Young Women, you are Zeus.” He released his hair and hung his head. Defeat. Tamara stepped forward and put her hands on his stomach. He didn’t try to take them off, which meant only one thing—she had him.

“And in the Pantheon of Vexatious Men, you are Hera.”

Hera—the goddess of marriages who blessed hearth, home and the wombs of young brides. Zeus’s wife.

“You’re going to talk me into doing this, aren’t you?” Levi asked.

“I already have.”

“Not yet. I’m still on the fence.”

“Would this get you over the fence?” Tamara stepped forward and put her arms around his neck. She brought her lips to his mouth and kissed him. She wasn’t sure at first if he’d kiss her back. She wasn’t sure at first if she wanted him to.

But he did kiss her back, hard enough she knew he wanted to scare her away from him. One last fight before giving in. She kissed him back twice as hard. Someday he’d thank her for this, thank her for talking him into marrying her.

“You ruined me before,” he said. “You’re gonna ruin me again.”

“I said I’d make you rich.”

“That’s not what I meant, Rotten. Not what I meant at all.”

She shivered despite the heat of his body against hers. Why was he so warm? He felt like a furnace against her skin.

“You’re playing me,” he whispered against her mouth, nipping her bottom lip with his teeth to get her attention. It worked.

“I thought I was kissing you.”

“You’re playing me like a piano. And you are Rachmaninoff.”

“I must be a natural, then,” she said. “Never had one lesson.”

Their mouths met again, tongues touched and mated. He was hard against her and she liked it. She loved it even, and considering all that had happened, she loved that she loved it.

“I don’t want a child bride,” he whispered into her ear. “I’m not that kind of man.”

Her fingernails dug into the fabric of his shirt over his shoulders. On bare flesh she would have broken the skin.

“I’m not a child. I haven’t been since the flood,” Tamara said, pulling back from the kiss. She laid her head on his chest and could hear his heart racing and knew she’d done it. They were getting married.

“I’m only doing this so you don’t marry some dirty old man.”

“I only want to marry a dirty young man.” She grinned up at him.

“All right, then. You got me. We’ll get married. I don’t want to do this. And I know I’m going to regret it.”

“You’ll regret it more if you don’t.”

“And that’s the reason I’m doing it. Damned if I do, and damned if I don’t. But if I’m going to burn, I might as well burn in a big fancy bed in your mother’s house.”

“Soon to be our house,” she said. “I can hear her spinning in her grave already.” Tamara had never heard a sweeter sound.

“She’s not dead,” Levi said.

“Not yet.”

“So when do we do this?” he asked, pulling away from her.

“Soon as possible. Before my mother manages to spend every penny of mine that’s supposed to be yours.”

“Soon as possible? Which means...?”

Tamara smiled.

“You free tomorrow?”





13

They were married two days later in Louisville. Judge Daniel Headley presided in his Ohio riverfront office with his secretary and his law clerk acting as witnesses. The ceremony was brief and somber, with Headley acting like he was presiding over a funeral, not a wedding. The rain outside didn’t help lighten the mood nor did the judge’s reserved demeanor. He had a kind face but wasn’t the sort who smiled easily and often. A serious man. He was only forty or so, but he seemed older in this setting, with row upon row of leather-bound legal tomes on hulking ornate mahogany bookshelves and a polished brass statue of Lady Justice standing on a shelf behind his great boat of a desk. Levi knew she wore a blindfold because justice was supposed to be blind, meted out with no regard to race or sex or religion or wealth or lack thereof. From what he’d seen of the world so far, he figured Lady Justice did quite a bit of peeking out from under her blindfold.

The vows were simple and perfunctory.

Do you, Tamara Belle Maddox?

I do.

Do you, Levi Joseph Shelby?

I do.

When Judge Headley pronounced them husband and wife, Levi gave Tamara a kiss as perfunctory as the ceremony.

It was done, then. Papers were signed and witnessed. Hands were shaken. Muted well wishes were given before the judge’s secretary and law clerk took their quiet leave of them.