Page 4 of Whiskey Chase
He snorted. “Whatever.”
Scarlett slapped him on the back of the head. “Be-have.” She said it like it was two words.
“Yeah, yeah,” Gibson grumbled and went back to his guitar.
“He’s the strong angry type,” Scarlett said by way of apology. “Jameson’s the artistic, leave-me-alone type. And Bowie just loves everybody. Don’t you Bowie?” She fluttered her lashes at him, and he gave her a glare.
“Don’t you start that bullshit again,” Bowie said, pointing a warning finger at her, but there was no heat behind his words.
Scarlett laughed, and it sounded like the twitter of birds on a sunny Sunday morning. The light in her laughter turned something on inside me.
“And you are?” I heard myself saying the words.
She gave me the side eye.
“Why, I’m Scarlett Bodine, of course.”
Someone turned the music up to head-throbbing levels again, and Scarlett let out a bred-in-bone whoop when she recognized the twangy song. It made me remember why I’d come in the first place.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d turn the music down,” I snapped.
“What?” she yelled.
I leaned down into her space, avoiding the arms she tossed in the air in time to the music. “Turn down the music!”
She laughed. “Devlin, it’s a Friday night. What do y’all expect?”
I’d expected the tomb-like quiet of a backwoods town whose residents were in bed by eight while I licked my wounds. I’d expected my wife to remain faithful. Hell, I’d expected my entire life to turn out differently.
“Not everyone likes a party,” I said, sounding like an old man who’d kick kids off his lawn. “Turn it down, or I’ll call the cops.”
“Well, excuuuuuuuse me. I didn’t realize thatfunwasillegalwhere you’re from,” Scarlett snipped.
“Causing a disturbance is illegal whereeveryoneis from, and you’redisturbingme.”
“Well, bless your heart. Maybe y’all need to lighten up?” Scarlett suggested, batting her eye lashes with false sympathy.
I wasn’t sure of anything right now except for the fact that it had been a mistake to come here. Bootleg Springs was not a place to hide and heal.
“Just turn it down,” I muttered. I turned around and headed for the sanctity of the woods.
“Real nice meetin’ you,” she called after me. One more thing to be sure of. Scarlett Bodine was lying.
3
Scarlett
Ibroke the egg and let it dribble into the bowl with the others. “Dang it,” I muttered and fished a piece of shell out of the yolky mess. Finding a fork in the drawer next to the sink, I sloshed it around until the eggs were the appropriate soupy mess.
I nabbed the bacon from the pan one second before it turned to charcoal and tossed the slices onto a plate where they splintered into breakfast meat shrapnel.
“Just what the hell are you doing?”
Devlin was standing in the kitchen staring at me like I was some kind of common criminal. Granted, I had kinda broken into his house. But, in my defense, Granny Louisa asked me to.
I would have explained all that to him, but he’d appeared wearing only a pair of low-riding cotton pajama pants. I would have bet my best boots that he wasn’t wearing any kind of underwear either. With great reluctance, I dragged my gaze away from what promised to be a spectacular package and let it roam his naked torso.
He snapped his fingers. “Hello!”
