The Bourbon Thief(58)

She’d expected to enjoy it. She hadn’t expected it to get her so drunk on the memory of that night she’d never sober up again. Every time the memory of it came to her—bidden or unbidden—her head spun and the room spun and the world spun so she thought she might spin right off it. When the sun bore down on her with its strongest rays, she felt the weight of Levi’s body settling on hers. When the water lapped at her legs, she felt Levi’s tongue between her thighs kissing the parts of her she never knew were made for kissing. Sometimes when she slathered on the sunblock, she’d spend more time than she needed to rubbing it on her breasts, remembering Levi’s mouth on her nipples, sucking them and massaging them with his hot tongue. And sometimes she fell asleep in the shadow of her umbrella and dreamed of Levi inside her again, deep inside her, not only in her body, but in her blood. When she woke from these dreams, it was as if waking from a nightmare and yet all she wanted was to fall asleep and dream the dream again.

Tamara heard the crack of a twig and sat up instantly. She grabbed her clothes and turned toward the sound.

“Sorry,” Levi said, standing at the edge of the forest. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” she said, her heart hammering in her chest.

She wanted to ask him what he wanted, but she’d promised to leave him alone. She left him alone by never speaking unless he spoke to her first, never asking him questions, never extending the conversation, letting it die instead.

He walked across the beach to her. She saw he still had his boots on. She laid her clothes beside her on her towel again and rolled back into the sand.

“I don’t know how I feel about you lying out topless on the beach,” he said. “I’m not sure it’s legal.”

She said nothing.

“Although I suppose nobody could see you unless they had a boat and binoculars.”

Behind her sunglasses Tamara rolled her eyes.

“I went into town today,” he continued. “I called Judge Headley’s office.”

Tamara stayed silent.

“He’s trying to move some court dates around, speed up the process a little. He says hello to you by the way.”

“Hello to Judge Headley.” No matter how often she told herself the judge was her father, she still couldn’t think of any man in that role but Daddy.

“He wanted to know how you were doing, how you were feeling. You know, as you are pregnant and all.”

Tamara sighed.

“I told him you were fine as frog’s hair. I told him you were puking every hour on the hour. But considering how fat you’re getting, that was probably a good thing. I also told him you were gassy. Real gassy. Like we had to sleep in separate houses gassy. He gave me his condolences, said pregnancy was very hard on a woman, and I should be as nice to you as I could.”

Tamara dug her fingers deep into the sand, clawing at it.

“Thank you for calling Judge Headley and checking on the will.”

“Right,” he said. “I picked up the mail, too. Apparently your mother sent Judge Headley a letter to us and his secretary forwarded it our way. You want to read it or should I?”

Tamara held up her hand and Levi put the envelope in it. Tamara rolled up and looked at it. It was her mother’s handwriting, addressed to Levi Shelby and Tamara Maddox.

Tamara stood up and walked across the sand to the edge of the ocean. She ripped the letter in half and then in quarters and then dropped them into the water.

“What did you do that for?” Levi asked.

“Do you care what my mother has to say to us?” Tamara asked.

“No.”

“Neither do I.”

She returned to her umbrella, pointedly ignoring Levi’s gaze from behind her sunglasses as he watched her every movement. He didn’t need to know she was looking at him looking at her.

“Something else came in the mail today,” he said as soon as she’d settled back down on her big pink towel.

“You’re in my sun,” she said.

“The sun is setting.”

“You’re in my shade, then.”

Levi moved a foot to the right.

“You don’t want to know what else we got in the mail today?” he asked.

“Not really, but you can tell me if it makes you happy.”

“I’ll tell you. But first you can tell me something. On a scale of one to ten, how much do you hate me?” he asked.

“The scale only goes to ten?”

“Good Lord, why on earth did I think marrying a teenager was a good idea?” Levi asked to the sky.

“I didn’t think you believed in God.”

“I don’t, but I’m starting to see the appeal. Something to be said for having someone to hash it out with when one’s high-strung overwrought born-again spoiled-rotten child bride gets her dander up for no good reason.”

“My dander is not up.”

“You have been giving me the silent treatment for three solid weeks.”

“I talk to you whenever you want me to. I’m talking right now.”

“Yeah, I ask you what you want for breakfast and you tell me you already ate. I ask you if you want to go check out Beaufort or Charleston and you say, ‘Whatever you want.’ When I tell the judge you’re so gassy you’re blowing holes in the walls, you thank me for checking in with the judge.”