Page 79 of Bourbon Bliss
I grinned down at her. “June Tucker, are you telling me you think I’m cute?”
“I very much enjoy looking at you, yes.”
Brushing her hair back from her face, I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I think you’re beautiful. And I very much enjoy looking at you.”
I wanted to lean in and kiss her, like I’d done so many times before. But there was a right way to do this. If I wanted a base hit, I needed her to throw the pitch.
So instead of leaning in to capture her lips—taking what I wanted—I paused, raising my eyebrows.
“Oh,” she said. “First base?”
“It can be if you’re ready.”
“Yes. I’m ready. I’ve missed kissing you.”
“Oh my sweet June,” I said, touching her cheek and sliding my hand into her hair. “I have missed kissing you something fierce.”
Moving in close, I let my lips brush hers. Although this wasn’t our first kiss, it wasafirst. And I wanted to make it count.
I held the back of her head and slipped my other hand around her waist. Her lips were parted, open for me, her chin tipped up. I captured her mouth with mine, delving in with my tongue.
Our lips pressed together, tongues tangling. She tilted her head to the side and I slanted my mouth over hers. For a single heartbeat, she seemed hesitant, like she might pull away. But her body relaxed and the way she melted into me felt like huge win.
I held her head in my hand, my fingers tangled in her hair, and kissed the hell out of her.
Deep and slow, I savored that kiss. Savored the minty taste of her. The way she slid her hands along my shoulders and around my neck. I pressed her body closer and held her tight, heedless of who might see.
The breeze was no match for the heat between us. Her tongue was velvety soft, her lips warm and full. I kissed her until I wasn’t sure where I ended and she began.
It was, hands down, the best kiss I’d ever given. Or received.
We pulled back and her eyelids were heavy.
“Kissing you makes me feel like magic exists,” she said.
I touched her face, tracing my fingers across her cheek. “Kissing you is magic.”
So I kissed her again.
On the walk back to my car, I kept replaying what she’d said about her high school prom. I really did want to break that Hank Preston piece of shit’s nose. Or maybe his kneecaps.
But more than that, I thought about June missing out on things. That dance had mattered to her—it had meant something. I wondered if I could do something about that.
What would Bootleg Springs do?
And then it hit me. I knew exactly what Bootleg Springs would do. It wouldn’t be easy—this would take some work. I had some people to talk to—maybe bribe—so I could make it happen. But I was determined. I was going to make this up to June in a way she’d never forget.
26
June
My timer went off with a loudbingand I tapped my phone’s screen to turn it off. I’d given myself one hour to update my research into the Callie Kendall case. Time was up.
I’d found my relationship with George—as well as my other responsibilities and social encounters with my family—had taken precedence over my Callie Kendall research. I hadn’t made much progress, which was frustrating.
It made me wonder how my father had balanced his career in law enforcement with the responsibilities of a family. Had there been times he’d wanted to continue his work, but he’d come home to be with us instead?
Regardless, my timer had gone off, so I saved my work and closed my laptop. Jonah glanced over at me from the kitchen. I’d been so focused, I’d forgotten he was home.
