Page 6 of Whiskey Chase
“Well, better eat before your eggs get any colder. What do you want for supper?” I asked, batting my lashes.
The tic was back in his jaw. My work here was done.
“I eat alone,” he insisted.
I grinned up at his grumpy, sexy-as-hell face. “We’ll see about that.”
He turned away from me and yanked open a drawer, the handle coming off in his hand. “This place is falling apart,” he muttered.
“I can fix that,” I promised Devlin. It was just a little knob for Pete’s sake. He acted like the entire house was crumbling around him.
He grabbed a slip of paper off the counter and scrawled something on it.
Curious, I snatched it off the counter the second he walked away.Sliders don’t slide, deck needs refinished, creaky stairs, ugly ass carpet, leaky upstairs sink, drawer hardware.I flipped it over and felt my eyebrows wing up.
“Well, I can definitely take care of the first list for you, but you might need professional help for the second.” The back of the paper was a list of apparently everything that was wrong with Devlin McCallister’s life. Starting at the top:married the wrong woman.
He grabbed it out of my hand.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t need your help with anything. And I definitely don’t need you snooping around here pretending to fix things. I’ve got a list long enough for a handyman.”
“And just where will you find one of them?” I asked, tongue in cheek.
He stomped across the kitchen and glared at his granny’s bulletin board. He snatched a card off of it triumphantly. “I’ve got it covered,” he insisted.
“They’re pretty busy this time of year what with the tourist season startin’ up.”
Stubbornly, Devlin dialed.
My phone rang in my pocket, and I fished it out. “Bodine Home Services. Scarlett speaking. How can I help y’all?”
Devlin hung up on a growl.
4
Devlin
About two minutes after I threw Scarlett out of the house, my phone rang.
“Now why in heaven’s name would you go and kick Scarlett Bodine out of my house?” Gran demanded without preamble.
Great. My next-door neighbor was a tattle tale. “Hello to you, too. And how’s Rome?”
“Don’t you ‘how’s Rome’ me,” Gran said. “You’re my favorite grandson in the world, Devlin, and I know you’re going through a rough patch. But you can’t be rude to our neighbors.”
“Gran, she broke into your house and made me cold, runny eggs.” I scraped them into the trash and settled for more coffee. My appetite had deserted me months ago.
“That’s just Scarlett being friendly.”
“You live in a town where breaking and entering is considered friendly.”
“Do I need to remind you that you live in a world where your friends and family backstab you to get to the top of the food chain?”
“I think you’re being a little dramatic,” I said, smiling despite myself. Gran was vocal about her disinterest in the political world my parents and I moved within.
“Look, I want you to be nice to that Bodine girl. I understand that maybe you’re not looking for company, but her daddy just died last week, so I’d appreciate it if you’d at least make an effort to be polite.”
And just like that, I felt like the biggest asshole in Appalachia. I sank down on one of the dining room chairs. “I wasn’t aware of that.”
