Page 15 of Whiskey Chase
I looked down. I was dressed for a workout in shorts and a tank top. The weather had warmed considerably, taking it into the mid-seventies. With the aid of the sunshine and buzz of spring life, I’d actually made it a mile at a slow jog and had managed a few sets of push-ups and sit-ups today. A small step forward but certainly not the kind of attire I usually left the house in.
“I don’t own flip-flops.”
She goggled at me like I’d just confessed to hating babies. “Fine. Old sneakers then.”
“Don’t own those either.”
“You’re a deprived man, Dev. Bare feet are fine. Just don’t whine about mud.” She started dragging me toward the door.
I dug my heels into the living room rug. “Where are we going?” I asked.
Scarlett had an interesting habit of dragging me where I didn’t want to go.
“Deck party. It’s the perfect day for it. I’ve got a cooler of sandwiches, beers, water. And I’m not takin’ no for an answer. So get your fine ass moving.”
I wasn’t exactly sure where to start. What was a deck party? And did she really think I had a fine ass? Or was that more a statement about the whole package? Because I was feeling as far from my normal self as I ever had.
“Stop overthinking and come with me,” she ordered.
I grabbed my phone from the table. “Fine, but if this turns out to be some kind of Bootleg initiation where you take me cow tipping and leave me in the middle of a corn field, I’m going to hire a different contractor.”
She rolled her eyes, and this time when she tugged my hand, I let her drag me out the door.
“A. There’s no such thing as tipping cows. Urban myth. B. If I left you in a corn field right now, you’d be just fine seein’ as how it doesn’t hit knee high until the Fourth of July.”
She kept a hold of my hand and pulled me through the woods in the direction of her house. I tried to remember the last woman who so freely held my hand. Dating Johanna had been more like a job interview. We both had specific goals. I was looking for the right partner for my career. She was looking for a husband who would provide financial security and the ability to pursue her volunteerism. Looking back it seemed a bit… archaic. Sterile?
Scarlett glanced over her shoulder at me and grinned, and I felt… something.
She beamed up at me, and I felt… tall, interesting, stirred. I was by no means in any position for a spring or summer fling. But this bubbly brunette with a sweet southern drawl was starting to paint pictures in my head.
We peeled away from her cottage and headed down the wooden dock over the dark lake waters.
“Who’s ready to party?” Scarlett crowed.
The end of the dock erupted in hoots and hollers. It was a twelve-by-twelve floating deck with an outboard motor, railings with built-in cup holders, and folding camp chairs. Her brothers were there, all three of them, and two women close to Scarlett’s age.
“Cass, this is my friend Devlin. Dev, this is my BFF Cassidy. She’s deputy sheriff here in Bootleg.”
Cassidy peered at me over her sunglasses and offered a wave. She had dirty blonde hair cut in short layers. Her green eyes considered me impishly.
“A pleasure,” I said.
Cassidy raised an eyebrow. “Well, he’s a hell of a lot more polite than your last ‘friend,’” Cassidy said.
Scarlett flipped her the bird and cheerfully continued her introductions.
“This tall drink of water here is Cassidy’s sister June. June, this is Devlin.”
June was tall with stick-straight hair a shade or two darker than her sister’s. They both had the same upturned nose.
“Are you two having sexual intercourse?” June asked. Her face remained impassive as if she didn’t really care if we were or not but was merely making small talk.
I cleared my throat. “No. We’re not.” I noticed that the Bodine brothers relaxed visibly, and I realized I might have narrowly avoided a physical altercation.
“We’re all here,” Scarlett announced, not the slightest bit perturbed by the sex question or the fact that her brothers looked like they would have cheerfully beaten me to death and dumped my body in the lake. “Let’s cast off.”
Bowie fired up the motor while Cassidy untied the lines. Jameson gave the deck a shove away from Scarlett’s dock, and we were underway. June queued up a playlist, and something country and upbeat poured out of the railing-mounted Bluetooth speaker.
