Page 90 of Whiskey Chase
“This is Dr. and Mrs. Contee’s house. They’re hefty campaign donors with a laundry list of pet causes. Tonight we’re raising awareness for Maryland Legal Aid.”
My hands had gone icy in my lap. I didn’t usually intimidate easily. But I felt like I’d turned into Cinderella for a night when all I really wanted to be was a pumpkin... or a bumpkin.
I stuck my chin out.I was going to be the best damn bumpkin these folks had ever had the misfortune of meeting.
Devlin squeezed my hand as if he was reading my mind. “If you’re not having a good time, we can leave at any time,” he promised.
I nodded.
“And they’re probably going to pump you for information about the divorce, my work, bad blood between me and Johanna’s whatever-he-is. They’re going to assume that you’re a gold digger or that we were also having an affair. Also, they won’t say anything bad to your face. So, take comfort in that.”
I laughed. “Basically, I’m the new kid walking into my first day of high school.”
“Essentially. Just with more gray hair and money in this cafeteria.”
I nodded, happy to at least know the score. “Let’s do this.”
We turned the SUV over to the smartly uniformed valet and entered through the front door where we were greeted by one of the party organizers. “Devlin McCallister, so lovely to see you again,” a woman in a smart red blazer said with a wan smile. “Please join the others in the backyard. Have a lovely time.”
Devlin’s grip tightened on my hand, and I realized I wasn’t the only nervous one.
“Everything is going to be just fine,” I assured him. “If you’re not having fun, we can leave after half an hour.”
He laughed at me turning his words back on him and slung his arm around my shoulder, drawing me into his side. “I’m glad you’re here for my first foray back into real life,” he whispered in my ear.
I got goosebumps from his lips brushing my ear lobe. I realized this was more of a test for him than me. If Devlin could be welcomed back, he could resume his career and carry on with his life. A life that was two hours away from Bootleg Springs.
“Devlin McCallister! I haven’t seen you since...”
Devlin kept his arm anchored firmly around my waist and made a dozen introductions that I promptly forgot. We met the hosts, a lovely couple in their mid-sixties who were half in the bag from the signature punch the caterer had whipped up. Someone handed me a glass of champagne. An actual glass, outside on the stamped concrete patio. Either rich people didn’t drop things, or they didn’t care if something broke since they weren’t the ones cleaning it up.
Every time someone tried to squirrel me away for some gossip, Devlin reclaimed me and expertly ended the interaction.
“You are good at this,” I whispered to him as we walked away from a curvy lady with a Liza Minnelli-worthy wig who’d done her damnedest to get Devlin to admit he was devastated over his divorce.
“You’re not half bad yourself,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to my cheek.
Liza had shut the hell up when I’d giggled and batted my eye lashes. “Are people still talking about that? That was months ago! I swear, sometimes I feel like some of us never got out of junior high,” I’d said.
“McCallister.”
I felt Devlin tense against me, and I turned to face the enemy. He was tall and lean with sandy hair and a toothpaste commercial smile. He was wearing dark blue slacks a striped button-down and glossy loafers. Everything about him said subtle and successful.
“Anderson, good to see you,” Devlin said offering his hand. The man shook it with energy. Definitely a politician in the making. “This is Scarlett Bodine. Scarlett this is Les Anderson.”
“A pleasure,” Les said smoothly.
“How y’all doin’?”
He seemed delighted by my accent. His professional smile disappeared and was replaced with a real one. “Well, well. We’ve all been wondering where McCallister was, and judging by your voice, I can hedge a guess.”
I slid my arm through Devlin’s. “Dev and I have been enjoying our time together in West Virginia.”
Les’s eyes widened just the slightest bit. “And here I thought you were off licking your wounds,” he said.
“He’s been too busy licking other things,” I announced.
Devlin coughed, and I realized I may have gone a bit too far. I was used to throwing down insults with Misty Lynn. We didn’t have to worry about holding back for polite society being that there was no polite society in Bootleg.
