Page 123 of Bourbon Bliss
George waited behind the rest of the men. His dark suit fit his broad shoulders and tall stature perfectly. He had a little gold butterfly—just like the ones on my dress—pinned to his lapel. Leah Mae had thought of everything.
Scarlett took to the stairs. She’d opted for a short red dress with a tulle skirt and cowboy boots. Devlin watched her like he was ready to rip that dress right off her.
Cassidy went next, her deep purple dress rustling around her legs. The way Bowie looked at her made me smile, and I had to bite my lower lip to keep the tears from my eyes. His face practically shone with happiness, like he couldn’t imagine anything better in the entire world than my sister.
It struck me how many times I’d seen my dad look at my mom with that same gleam in his eyes.
Jameson chewed his lower lip as Leah Mae walked down in her pale pink dress, the fabric shimmering in the light. Her blond hair was up, emphasizing her tall, willowy frame. He scooped her into his arms and pressed his cheek to hers.
It was my turn. All eyes lifted, waiting for me to descend. My heart fluttered with sudden nervousness, my tummy tingling.
Plucking the skirt of my dress between my thumb and finger so I wouldn’t trip, I held it up slightly and walked down the stairs. I rarely wore heels, but I’d found a pair that weren’t too high, so I didn’t feel like I was in danger of falling.
Everyone watched, but the second I met George’s eyes, I forgot about the rest of them. He was all that existed in the world. His eyes, crinkling at the corners with his smile. The dimples puckering his cheeks. His expression was awed, as if he couldn’t quite believe it was me.
When I got to the bottom, George stepped forward and took my hands in his.
“Hi, beautiful,” he said softly.
My breath caught in my throat and my skin buzzed with excitement. This was really happening. Me, in a fancy dress, with a handsome date for the prom. For the second time today, I was rendered almost speechless.
“You look remarkable,” I said, and it was such a vast understatement, it almost felt like a lie. He looked gorgeous. Delectable. Handsome. Wondrous. Sexy. Too many adjectives burst through my brain. I couldn’t keep up with them.
“Oh June Bug,” he said, his voice low. “I’m nothing compared to you. You’re a vision tonight.”
The men had gone all-in with the prom theme, and brought us each a flower corsage to wear on our wrist. George had chosen white and peach flowers with tiny pearls for mine, matching my dress. He slid the band around my wrist, then leaned in to kiss my forehead.
“Are y’all ready?” Dad asked. “Your driver’s waiting.”
Mom and Dad were driving separately, but the rest of us went outside and piled into the waiting limousine. I’d never been in a limo before, and I wondered where they’d even found one. There wasn’t a limo to be found in Bootleg Springs. He must have come from a neighboring town.
The seats were plush leather and there was an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne. Bowie poured for everyone as the driver pulled out onto the street.
“We have another stop to make,” Bowie said. “We’re picking up Jonah and Lacey, too.”
The rest of us waited in the big limo while he stopped at Lacey’s house to pick up our last couple. Jonah looked very nice in a dark gray suit and tie. Lacey wore a light blue dress with a long slit up the side. They got in and sat side by side. The driver shut the door behind them and once again, we were off.
We were minutes from the high school, so the driver must have taken a longer route, or perhaps driven a loop around town, giving us time to finish our champagne.
By the time we got to the high school, everyone was laughing, cheeks flushed. George helped me out of the car, then offered me his arm. I tucked my hand in the crook of his elbow, took a deep breath, and walked in to my first ever formal dance.
The gym had been transformed into everything I’d imagined a prom to be. Streamers, balloons, twinkle lights. A big banner saidWelcome to the Bootleg Springs Do-Over Prom. A photographer had a backdrop set up in a corner, and there were snacks and refreshments on folding tables. Colored lights flickered around the dance floor. Gibson, Hung, and Corbin occupied the small stage, already playing a set.
Couples—wearing everything from sequined prom dresses and rented tuxes to vintage outfits that looked like they might have been their original prom attire fifty years ago—danced, ate, drank, and mingled. My parents were there, holding hands near the moonshine fountain. Bernie O’Dell had traded his customary overalls for a hickory shirt and brand-new jeans. Opal Bodine—no relation to Scarlett—wore a black dress and a bow in her hair, rather than a baseball cap.
Granny Louisa and Estelle were there, both wearing silver and black. Wade Zirkel had brought Zadie Rummerfield. He saw our group coming and suddenly turned in the other direction. Bootleg Justice wasn’t soon forgotten.
Everywhere I looked, I saw familiar faces. People decked out in their best, dancing, nibbling on snacks, or drinking punch and moonshine. Music filled the air and the lights danced off the decorations. Even the sight of Misty Lynn Prosser making eyes at Gibson Bodine as he sang, although she was here with Rhett Ginsler, didn’t dampen my enjoyment of the evening.
It was amazing.
Gibson and his band rolled into a new song.Tennessee Whiskey.
“Shall we?” George asked, taking my hand and nudging me toward the dance floor. “I feel like this is our song.”
I nodded, and he led me onto the dance floor. One hand went to my lower back, the other tucked my hand against his chest. We swayed to the slow beat of the music, and I closed my eyes, letting myself feel.
“So, what do you think?” George asked.
