Page 106 of Whiskey Chase
How could any man in the world look into the gray depths of those eyes and say no?
“Okay, Scarlett.”
She smiled at me, and some of the ice in my chest melted.
We ate our breakfasts on the same side of the booth, shutting out the rest of the restaurant, and made plans for the rest of the week. I felt lighter than I had when we came in, but the thought of a Scarlett-less life still left me feeling empty.
I walked behind her to the door and waited for her casual ritual with the Missing poster. True to Scarlett’s word, as an adopted Bootlegger, I’d been indoctrinated into the theories, conspiracy and otherwise, every time I stepped foot into town.
I saw the hitch in her stride, the slight pause, before Scarlett bypassed the poster and pushed the front door open looking straight ahead.
Odd.
I’d never seen her walk right out the door before. I stopped and stared at the poster.
“Come on, Dev,” Scarlett said, her voice tight. “I’ll give you a ride back before I go to work.”
42
Devlin
Ibrowsed the grocery shelves and consulted my list, frowning at Jonah’s handwriting. I was cooking for Scarlett tonight. Jonah had given me a protein-heavy menu that “even an idiot could make.” I glared at the selection of chicken breasts. I was too distracted to pick the proper poultry.
“You keep staring at the chicken like that, and they’re all gonna get up and fly away,” Opal Bodine said. She was wearing overalls over her tall, lean frame. Her short dark hair was tucked under a ball cap.
I relaxed my face and offered her a smile. “Cooking stresses me out,” I said lamely.
“That’s what they make take-out for,” Opal said with a wink. She reached across me for a pack of chicken thighs and dumped them in her basket. “See ya at the game!”
I hadn’t played another inning for the Bootleg Cock Spurs. The hangover wasn’t worth it. But I had attended a few games since—and kept well hydrated.
I pushed the cart down the aisle, moving on to the spices portion of Jonah’s list, and my mind wandered back to Scarlett.
As an attorney, I’d developed a certain sense for when people were holding out on me. As a politician, that sense sharpened to a razor’s edge. Scarlett was keeping something from me. Something that had made her edgy and nervous. Something that kept her so tied up in her own mind that she’d checked out on me.
Was it even any of my business? I wondered, grabbing a jar of thyme and throwing it into the cart. Scarlett had, for all intents and purposes, broken up with me as soon as I headed back to Annapolis. She was convinced she’d be a hindrance to me, to my ambitions. And I didn’t understand how she’d come to that conclusion. Or why she hadn’t at least demanded a compromise. Yes, people had talked during and after the barbecue. However, very little of it had been negative. She was refreshing, honest, and interesting. That made her stand out.
Why couldn’t we try the long-distance thing at first? Or why hadn’t she demanded that I give up everything and move here. I had to admit, I’d at least consider it. Scarlett made me happy in a way I had never experienced before. But she was hell-bent on the idea that she was bad for me.
Her behavior had changed even before the barbecue. I thought back to the day at her father’s house. I wondered if I’d missed something.
I picked up a bottle of dried rosemary and held it up against the fresh sprigs Jonah had put on the list.
“What’s the damn difference?” I muttered.
“The one in the plastic packaging is fresh. The other is dried, giving it a strong flavor in smaller quantity.”
“Hi, June,” I said, shoving the herb back on the shelf.
“Hello.” She picked up a bottle of dill weed and tossed it in her basket.
“Know much about cooking?” I asked, making small talk.
“I know a lot about a lot of subjects.”
“Well, hi there handsome,” someone else purred from behind me.
I turned and found Misty Lynn in cutoffs that would be considered indecent in a strip club and a belly-baring t-shirt. She had a pack of Nicorette gum and a box of platinum blonde hair dye in her cart.
