Page 113 of Bourbon Bliss
It was a fact of life I’d understood to be outside the norm, but accepted as the way things were done here. Misty Lynn Prosser had cheated on Gibson Bodine, so Scarlett had broken her nose. Bootleg Justice. Earl Wilkins had ridden his lawn mower through Adeline Porter’s fence and refused to fix it, so Adeline had done the fixing and painted Earl’s side rainbow. Bootleg Justice. Leah Mae Larkin’s ex had engaged in public assholery, so the Bodines had tossed him in a dumpster. Bootleg Justice.
But sometimes, Bootleg Justice was quieter. It didn’t always involve dumpsters and bar fights. Sometimes it was simply a way to encourage a person to quit being a dick-licking douchenozzle, as Scarlett would say.
Andrea Wilson most definitely needed a dose of Bootleg Justice.
I wasn’t going to try to step in and be George’s accountant to fix his tax problems. But his assistant? By Bootleg standards, she was fair game.
So I went to Cassidy for help. Her research skills proved to be immensely helpful. She dug up some very interesting information on Ms. Andrea Wilson. And we came up with a plan.
Of course, George knew nothing about this. I had no qualms about that. My mom and I had been organizing secret town meetings—only when absolutely necessary, of course—without my father’s knowledge for years. She’d always said what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and now I truly understood what she’d meant. Because he was the sheriff, hecouldn’tknow when the town came together to do something that was slightly outside the confines of the law. Even when it was the right thing to do.
And it was always onlyslightlyoutside the law. Nadine Tucker was a law-abiding woman, and she’d raised us right.
Much like my dad, George couldn’t know that I was planning to treat Andrea to a dose of Bootleg Justice. This was something that needed to happen, and although I suspected he’d understand, it was better for him if he had no knowledge of it. The legalities were simpler that way.
With that in mind, I used George’s phone while he was in the shower to text Andrea, asking her to come to Bootleg Springs to meet as soon as possible. I was surprised—and suspicious—at how quickly she agreed. I’d expected her to refuse, or possibly not reply at all. But she did, and once the meeting was set, I quickly deleted the texts.
I’d tell George when it was done. For now, my plan required secrecy.
George had come back to Bootleg Springs with me, and for the time being, was staying in my house. I was surprised at how comfortable I felt having him here. My personal space was important to me. Having Jonah for a roommate had proven to be minimally intrusive. But this was far more than another person living in the same house. This was a very large man sharing my room. My bed.
I loved it.
The first night, when we’d climbed in bed together, first base had quickly turned to second. Then George had stolen third. It had been satisfying for us both, although I was surprised he hadn’t suggested we go for home. Perhaps after our one and only experience with intercourse, he was reluctant to make another attempt. Or perhaps he was waiting for me to suggest it.
Regardless, I’d gone to sleep tucked against his large body, his hand splayed across my stomach. It was hard to imagine anything more wonderful.
My blissful nights with George sleeping in my bed had hardened my resolve to handle the Andrea situation. The thought of George going to prison was abhorrent. Mostly because of his innocence. But also because then I’d have to give him up.
That was unacceptable.
The next day, I told George I had some things to see to. Without revealing why, I’d asked Jonah to keep him busy. The two of them were going for a run—George’s knee had healed to the point that he was able to run without pain—then coming home to grill steaks. That would give me adequate time for what I needed to do, and keep George out of the way while I did it.
Shortly before the appointed time, I went to the Lookout, the designated location for the meeting. Cassidy and Scarlett were there, seated at the table next to me, with drinks and a plate of garlic fries—adding to the pretense that they weren’t there with me.
The door opened. My blood froze with icy cold anger when Andrea walked inside. She was dressed in a stylish blouse and slacks, holding a designer bag. My eye twitched in irritation. She’d probably bought that with stolen money.
She looked around, believing she was meeting George. Her eyes landed on me and recognition showed on her face. I folded my hands in front of me and met her gaze, keeping my expression carefully neutral.
“June?” she asked, coming over to my table. “I’m Andrea, GT’s assistant. We met once before. Is GT here?”
“No,Georgeis not present,” I said, emphasizing his full name. “But please take a seat.”
“What’s going on?”
Cassidy and Scarlett had first suggested I appear friendly, lulling Andrea into a false sense of security. Then we’d all acknowledged that acting was not on my list of skills. Straightforward was our best option.
“George doesn’t know you’re here,” I said. “I asked you to come so we could discuss the issue at hand. Woman to woman.”
She pressed her lips together, her eyes narrowing, as she slowly lowered into the seat across from me. “I don’t have anything to discuss with you.”
Her words didn’t match her actions. She claimed she had nothing to say while simultaneously sitting down, as if she meant to stay. But instead of confusing me, this contradiction spurred me on.
“I disagree.”
“You’ve been banging GT for a few months, and you think that means you can speak on his behalf? I’ve been working for him for the better part of a decade.”
“Stealing from him, you mean.”
