Page 57 of Moonshine Kiss
“The answers are there,” Dad said. “Maybe we haven’t asked the right questions yet.”
“Speaking of, I need to ask you something,” I said.
“If it’s why your grandmother is a hellion hell-bent on driving me insane, I don’t have an answer for you,” he told me, taking off his glasses and stuffing them in his shirt pocket. “Thank you again for taking care of her last night.”
“It’s about Bowie.”
I watched his face carefully looking for some hint of something. But my dad just looked perplexed.
“Is he all right?”
Genuine concern. Huh. Had Bowie been messing with me? Was this just another fake lead, a red herring, in the dissection of why Bowie Bodine didn’t want me?
“We had a…moment last night.”
“Ah, come on, Cass. You know I hate it when you and your sister talk about your ‘moments.’”
June spoke only in very clinical terms of her sex life. And I only mentioned things in front of Dad to annoy him.
“Anyway, after this moment he said we couldn’t have any more moments.”
Dad looked puzzled. “Why in the hell not? You two are perfect for each other.”
“He said to ask you.”
I waited a beat.
Dad’s brows furrowed and then his wispy eyebrows winged up his forehead. “Uh-oh.”
“Dad, what did you do?”
28
Bowie
Eight years earlier
The knuckles on my right hand stung, and my jaw ached where that Blaine asshole had gotten in a lucky shot with his elbow. I was still vibrating with barely controlled rage. The dumbass was howling about lawsuits and holding paper towels to his still bleeding nose while the bonfire crowd had thinned to just lookie-loos.
Cassidy was standing near the fire, rubbing her arms with her hands and talking with Scarlett and June. I wanted to go check on her. Make sure she was okay. But Sheriff Tucker was headed in my direction and he didn’t look too happy.
“Bowie,” he said.
“Sir.”
“Things get a little out of hand tonight?” he asked.
We had a nice little arrangement going. We partiers kept our bonfires civil and made everyone walk home. Then the police didn’t have to get involved with checking everyone’s IDs and arresting people. Now I’d gone and ruined it. Technically, the jackwagon with the busted nose had ruined it. But he’d get to go home to his regular life, and I’d be stuck here in Bootleg.
Would this mess cost me my job in the fall? Had I disappointed Sheriff Tucker?
Why was it that I couldn’t keep my head on straight around Cassidy Tucker? It was not an appropriate question to ask her father.
“A little, sir,” I agreed.
“You wanna tell me your side of it or should I go with his version where you jumped out of the dark at him and tried to mug him?”
I smirked, and it hurt my lip. “He was getting handsy with one of the girls, threatening to throw her in the lake. She said no. He didn’t listen.”
