Page 104 of Bourbon Bliss
“Thanks.” He plated his dinner and put it in the microwave. “So, the Do-Over Prom. That’s something else, huh? Is George taking you?”
I smiled as I stirred the gravy. “Yes, he asked me to accompany him. Do you plan to attend?”
He leaned against the kitchen counter and shrugged. “Maybe. I was thinking about asking Lacey Dickerson.”
“You don’t sound terribly enthusiastic.”
“Well, I’m not sure about dating right now. But it seems like everyone else is, so maybe I should give it a shot.”
“If you’re feeling left out, I can identify with that,” I said. “I suppose you’ve noticed I’m a little different from most people in Bootleg Springs. I know what it’s like to be a bit on the outside.”
“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, my siblings are great. I expected a lot more resistance when I first came here. But… I don’t know if this is where I’m meant to be.”
“And dating would complicate matters, especially if you found yourself in what you’d like to be a long-term relationship.”
“Yep, exactly.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
Jonah and Lacey Dickerson. It was hard to picture. She was the right age, certainly, just a year younger than me. Pretty, with blond hair and blue eyes. And single, which was an obvious prerequisite. But something about the notion of Jonah dating her sat wrong with me. I couldn’t pinpoint why. I didn’t typically have strong instincts when it came to human relationships.
Perhaps I was learning.
I was also learning that it wasn’t always best to say everything that came into my mind. This seemed like an instance when keeping my thoughts to myself would be prudent. I didn’t think Jonah should date Lacey. But it was likely that he needed to figure that out for himself.
“If you decide to move forward with your request, I hope she answers in the affirmative.”
“Thanks, Juney.” He took a deep breath through his nose. “That really does smell good. George is going to love it.”
“Thank you.” I turned off the heat and whisked the gravy a few more times. “I think so, too.”
* * *
When dinner was finishedand packed in containers for transport, I went to George’s rental. I paused outside, looking at the small cabin. The location was excellent for a rental. Close to town. Partial view of the lake. But it was more vacation rental than permanent home.
He was making preparations to move to Bootleg, and when he did, I doubted he’d live here. I’d kept my eyes open for a suitable piece of real estate. A house, perhaps. Or maybe he’d want to do what Scarlett and Devlin were doing—buy land and build something to his particular taste.
I also wondered something else. What if he lived with me?
There was no doubt in my mind his decision to relocate to Bootleg Springs was at least eighty-seven percent due to my presence here. The other thirteen was a mix of the food at Moonshine Diner and the hot springs. But in large part, George was moving here for me.
It was a heady thought, that this man I admired—and was falling deeply in love with—wished to relocate to continue our relationship without the strain of distance.
His financial security seemed well-assured, so even in post-football retirement, I assumed he would live comfortably, whether or not he pursued another full-time career. And if he asked, I could help with his finances and investments. I was highly adept at it, having secured myself a number of lucrative assets and endeavors.
His move here made sense. Perhaps moving in with me made sense as well.
Was our relationship ready for that level of commitment? It wasn’t something I’d ever considered before. Generally, I preferred living alone. Jonah had proved to be a good roommate. He was quiet and kept to himself. But living with George would not be the same as living with a roommate. It would be truly sharing my space with another person. Opening up my life in a way I’d never done before.
I found I very much liked the idea.
Feeling a hint of euphoria at my daydreams of cohabitation, I gathered up the dinner I’d cooked and went to George’s door. Perhaps tonight I’d broach the subject.
George answered dressed in a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. Scarlett had once told me that you could discover everything you needed to know about a man by looking at him in a pair of gray sweats. I hadn’t understood what she meant—until this moment. He looked spectacular. The crisp t-shirt molded to his athletic frame, hinting at the lean, muscular body underneath. And those sweats. They sat low on his hips and showed the bulge of his manhood in a most enticing fashion.
“Oh, hey June.”
I gasped and snapped my gaze back to his face. “Hello.”
His expression was tense, his brow furrowed, but his eyes lit up as his nostrils flared. “Do I smell gravy?”
