Page 21 of Bourbon Bliss
“Yeah, it’s hot,” Gibson said, opening the lid. The meat popped and sizzled.
“Boys, you can’t be driving around while grilling,” Sheriff Tucker said. “We’ve been over this.”
“It’s okay, Sheriff,” Bowie said. “Jameson welded the grill to the bed for us, so it won’t go anywhere.”
The man driving leaned over and tipped his cap. “Hey, Sheriff. Don’t worry. It’s secure. We learned our lesson last time.”
“And here I thought if a few of them had women in their lives, it might settle them down a bit,” Sheriff Tucker muttered under his breath.
“Care for one?” Bowie asked, pointing to the meat sizzling on the grill.
Sheriff Tucker’s expression softened and his nostrils flared, like he was taking a good, long sniff. “Well, I suppose I might as well.”
The third guy produced a paper plate while Bowie got out a bun. Gibson took a patty off the grill and slid it onto the bun.
“Thanks.” Sheriff Tucker took the plate. “Horse puckey, where are my manners? Boys, this is GT Thompson. Mr. Thompson, these are… well, the Bodines. Most of ’em are, at least.” He pointed to each of the men in turn. “Gibson, Bowie, and Jonah in the back. In the driver’s seat there is Jameson.” He pointed to the man in the passenger seat—the only one who didn’t look like he must be related. “And Devlin McAllister. He’s their sister Scarlett’s beau.”
I held up a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“I thought you looked familiar,” Bowie said. “Sorry to hear about your knee. What brings you to Bootleg Springs?”
“The knee, actually. I heard about the hot springs and decided to give it a go. So far, I’m a believer.”
“Damn right,” Gibson said.
“Burger?” Bowie asked.
I was meeting Shelby soon for dinner, but why the hell not? The food smelled fantastic. And I was a big guy. I could pack away a lot of calories.
“Absolutely.”
They got my burger on a plate and handed it over.
“Thanks.”
“We best be moving on,” Bowie said. “Those fish won’t catch themselves.”
“Don’t be spilling charcoal out the back again,” Sheriff Tucker said.
“We’re way ahead of you, Sheriff,” Gibson said. “We rigged up a propane tank back here.”
“Well, in that case…”
I raised my eyebrows. Somehow driving around with a propane tank didn’t seem any safer. But I had to admit, a bunch of guys driving around in a pickup truck, grilling hamburgers on their way to go fishing? It was awesome.
I liked this town.
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “And thanks for the grub.”
“Anytime,” Bowie said. “Night, Sheriff.”
“You check in with Cassidy?” Sheriff Tucker asked.
“Of course I have,” Bowie said, putting a hand to his chest, like he was insulted the sheriff had to ask. “She’s with Scarlett tonight.”
“Fair enough. Careful with that grill.”
The truck pulled out on to the street and drove away.
