Page 125 of Whiskey Chase
“I think that sounds right nice,” I breathed. “But do we need to talk about your grandmother faking an injury to lure you back to town?”
“Do we need to talk about why you didn’t tell me about Callie’s sweater?”
“Do we need to talk about the cluster your life’s about to become if you start datin’ a girl in the middle of a murder investigation?”
“Do we need to talk about why you didn’t even give me the choice to stay or go?”
I bit my lip. Yeah, we had a lot to talk about. And maybe even some apologizing to do, which I wasn’t excited about at all.
“Why don’t we leave that all for later? It’ll keep, won’t it?”
“It’ll keep,” he agreed.
The thump of music next door echoed, and Devlin shook his head. “Just like the first night I met you.”
“Not quite,” I said, reaching into my hair and yanking the pins free. I let my hair tumble down my back and grabbed him by the hand. “C’mon.”
We ran through the night, navigating the skinny trail through the woods. When we came out on the other side, the crowd cheered.
“I found myself a man, y’all!” I shouted.
Devlin tossed me over his shoulder and jogged to Buck’s pick-up by the fire. He put me down feet first on the tailgate. “Someone get the lady a beer,” he called.
Someone shoved a beer into my hand. I leaned forward and pulled Devlin up next to me in the bed of the truck.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I said. “I dedicate this to all of y’all.”
Devlin raised a beer as well. I saw my brothers in the crowd raising their drinks. Jonah stood between Bowie and Jameson. He tipped his beer in my direction.
Devlin and I clinked cans, and on the count of three, we started to chug.
50
Scarlett
Hours later, Devlin and I were slow dancing in my backyard, the party still going strong around us. “Sorry about Granny Louisa’s sliding door,” I said.
“Excuse me. Did you just apologize?” Devlin asked feigning shock.
“I figured I’d start with one of the smaller things and work my way up.”
“Easing into it,” he teased.
“There’s a lot we’re gonna have to talk about, Dev. Half the town thinks my daddy did it. When news breaks about that sweater, nothing’s gonna be the same. The media will be breathing down our necks.” I needed him to know the risks. To understand them. And then still pick me.
“You know, it’s a good thing your boyfriend is an attorney. It’s even better that he’s been thinking about opening up his own practice in West Virginia.”
I gasped. “Are you serious? Won’t your parents hate your guts?”
“They are currently bitterly disappointed.”
“You already told them?”
“Scarlett, I went back, but part of me never left here. You’re what I want. God help me, but Bootleg is what I want.”
“I need to show you something,” I announced.
“Is it under that dress?”
