Page 26 of Whiskey Chase
“I want to know why you’re here,” Gibson said to Jonah without looking at him. His tone was flat and lacked the heat of his anger last night.
“Curiosity mostly,” Jonah answered.
Devlin shifted in his chair next to me. He was uncomfortable with the situation, but since Jonah was his temporary roommate and I was planning on sleeping with Devlin at some point, he might as well stick around and get his ears full.
“About us?” I asked Jonah.
He nodded. “I don’t care about your father—our father,” he corrected himself. “He had no interest in me and my life, and I’m happy to return that favor. But I didn’t know about you.”
“I’d be curious, too,” Bowie admitted. “Why don’t we do some preliminary introductions at least?”
Sallie Mae Brickman was leaning so far back in her chair to catch the scraps of our conversation I worried she’d end up on her ass in her Sunday best.
“You already know that I’m Scarlett. I’m the youngest and only girl. I run Bodine’s Home Services, and I’ve got a few rental properties here in town.”
“I’m Bowie, your age, which puts us as the second oldest in the crooked Bodine totem pole. I’m the vice principal at the high school.”
Jameson hated shit like this, so I enjoyed watching him squirm.
I grinned at him. “Come on, Jame. It’s not that hard.”
“Jameson, second youngest. I work with metal.”
“He’s a pretty amazing artist,” I supplied for Jonah. It was true. What Jameson couldn’t seem to put into his human interactions, he twisted and welded in metal form. His popularity had skyrocketed since he’d been commissioned to do a large-scale installation in a park in Charleston.
“You know who I am,” Gibson said, his tone surly.
“Yeah, we get that you’re the resident asshole, brother dearest. Tell Jonah something he doesn’t know,” I suggested helpfully.
“I’m the oldest. I’m a woodworker.”
I snorted. “Gibson likes working with wood.”
“Nothing makes Gibs happier than havin’ a handful of wood,” Bowie agreed with a wink.
Even Gibson managed a smirk at that while the rest of us busted up laughing.
“It’s a double entendre about erections,” I whispered to Devlin who appeared not to have gotten the joke.
“I get it,” he said dryly.
“Your turn, Dev. Tell Jonah who you are.”
“I’m Devlin. I have nothing to do with your situation.”
“Whatdoyou do, McAllister?” Gibson asked, shifting his pissed-offness to Devlin.
“I’m a disgraced lawmaker in the Maryland State Assembly.”
I choked on my coffee and sent a fine spray across the table.
“Thanks, Scar,” Bowie said, mopping up the mess.
“Disgraced in what way?” Jameson pressed. Jameson was interested enough to ask questions. That was a first.
“I was going to get around to telling you this part,” Devlin said, looking at me sheepishly.
“Oh, boy.” I could only imagine. This was the part where he told me he ran over his soon-to-be ex-wife or,worse, took a vow of chastity.
