Gin Fling (Bootleg Springs Book 5)

by Lucy Score

  Or maybe it was just the romance of witnessing the happiest day of another woman’s life that was confusing things for me.

  He removed his finger from my mouth and slid his hands along my jawline and into my hair, tilting my head up, up, up.

  Our eyes locked, breath mingled. I was no longer sure that the heat on my skin was from the bonfire alone. Using his thumbs, Jonah nudged my chin up, and I watched him lower to me. Whisper-soft, his lips brushed mine. Once, twice, before landing lightly. I sighed into him, melting. And the kiss changed. He was still gentle, still slow, but now he was tasting me. Thoroughly savoring every breath, every sigh, every second.

  I wanted to watch him kiss me, wanted to keep my eyes on his face so I could see how he looked as he breathed me in, lapped me up. But my lids were heavy, and the sensation of his mouth on mine, his tongue against mine, was too decadent to be dissected and analyzed. A first.

  The kiss stretched on and on. My hands fisted in his shirt at his waist, my body pitching forward into him. And still he kissed me.

  This wasn’t an appetizer, a teaser to sex. This kiss was the main course. A living, breathing chemical reaction.

  After an eternity that was entirely too short, he eased back ever so slightly. “I wondered how you’d taste,” he said quietly.

  His lips were millimeters from mine. Our breath, heavy and hot, mingled in the tight space between us. He threaded his fingers through my hair combing it back and sending a delectable shiver up my spine.

  “That was a movie-worthy kiss,” I breathed. “That was—that was really good. Really good.”

  We were swaying again somehow. Dancing and kissing under the stars in West Virginia. Who was I? Jonah toyed with the ends of my hair as I clung to his shirt. The kiss was still a palpable thing between us. It was movie perfect.

  “I’m probably going to want to do it again,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning up.

  I nodded, still breathless. “I don’t have a problem with that.” Oh my god. If he kissed me again, I might accidentally tear my own clothes from my body and insist on sex.

  “Is this a mistake seeing as how we live together?” he asked gruffly. His nose nudged the tip of mine, and then his lips were in my hair.

  “Seems pretty convenient to me,” I said breathily. Move over, Marilyn Monroe. Shelby Thompson is in the house. “It’s a kiss, or possibly several, or maybe even sex. Which is all very biologically healthy. Humans complicate sex with expectations.”

  “What are your expectations, Shelby?” Jonah asked me.

  Orgasms galore? Spending long hours staring at the perfection of Jonah’s body while he slept naked next to me? Falling in love with him and then being devastated when the time came for me to move on to whatever job I’d land? Or worse, falling in love with him and then being devastated when he decided to leave town and pursue Shelby-less dreams?

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s next for me,” I confessed.

  “Same here. So what does that mean?”

  “Well, with no set future, maybe we could still have a really good time in the present? Kind of like no strings?” I suggested. I could balance this. My dissertation, my research, my training. I could squeeze excellent sex into my schedule. It would be easier than trying to wedge a romantic relationship into the mix.

  “See where it goes with no demands? No expectations?” he asked.

  I was hypnotized by the firelight on his face. He could have asked me to donate both my kidneys to a black-market health scam, and I would have dumbly handed him a scalpel.

  “No demands. No expectations. A fling.” I’d never had a fling before. And I liked the idea of one day reminiscing about my summer fling with the sexy, interesting, sweet personal trainer.

  “A fling,” he repeated.

  I couldn’t tell if he liked the idea or was horrified by my suggestion.

  “Think about it,” I said.

  “I will.” A smile curved his lips. “I have a feeling I’ll be thinking about it a lot.”

  “There y’all are!”

  I jumped, trying to extricate myself from Jonah. But his hands were caught in my hair.

  “Ouch!” I yelped as my head whipped backward. The pain returned and roared through my system.

  “Am I interrupting’?” Scarlett asked smugly. I’d never had murderous thoughts before, but if my eyeballs could shoot teeny tiny daggers, Scarlett Bodine would be bleeding from a million wounds.

  “Need something, Scarlett?” Jonah asked, extracting his hands from my hair.

  “I thought I’d give you your birthday present early,” she said.

  “Now?” he asked. He glanced at me and reached for my hand. I swooned like a lovesick nerd drooling over the star quarterback. “We’re kind of in the middle of something.” I mentally swooned again, harder this time.

  “While I’m real happy about what y’all are in the middle of, seein’ as how this was my plan all along, this present can’t wait,” Scarlett insisted. She jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

  “Hello, Jonah.”

  “Mom?”

  17

  Jonah

  “Happy early birthday.” My mom grinned and opened her arms.

  Jenny Leland was tall and lean with a short cap of blonde hair. She had a dimple in one cheek that was perpetually visible because she was always smiling.

  I had my father’s coloring, but I had my mom’s green, green eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” I hugged her, lifting her off the ground. She laughed just like she had when I’d hugged her like this at my high school graduation.

  “Surprise. Scarlett called and said it was high time I came to Bootleg Springs for a visit,” Mom said, looking fondly at my sister. “And I couldn’t say no.”

  “Not many people can,” Shelby said.

  Great. My mother crashed my first kiss with Shelby. Maybe Shelby could explore the possibility of operating with no expectations. But judging the sparkle in my mom’s eyes—mirroring the one in Scarlett’s—there were other expectations on the line.

  “Mom, this is Shelby,” I said, making the introduction quickly.

  “Shelby, this is my mom, Jenny. Shelby is my—”

  Scarlett leaned forward expectantly.

  “Roommate,” Shelby supplied quickly. “Scarlett was kind enough to rent me a room in Jonah’s place.”

  “Well, isn’t that nice,” Mom said with a big smile.

  She’d definitely seen the kiss. Shit.

  She looked good. Tall and trim with her sunny hair sweeping low over her forehead. She had faint lines next to her eyes and mouth that, in my biased opinion, made her look even softer and lovelier.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” I confessed. “I missed you.”

  She hugged me again, tighter this time. “I missed you, too. Now, who’s going to introduce me to all these other Bodine boys?”

  “Scarlett, why don’t you round up your brothers, and I’ll get Jenny a drink,” Shelby offered.

  “That would be lovely, Shelby,” Mom said.

  Shelby and Scarlett hurried off in opposite directions. “Now, I see why you didn’t want to fly home for a visit,” Mom announced. “She’s gorgeous and polite. I give you my blessing.”

  “That was literally our first kiss that you barreled into, Oh Ye of Terrible Timing,” I warned her. “Don’t start putting together a wedding guest list.”

  “You never know where you’ll find love,” she said airily.

  “I can guarantee it won’t be in Bootleg Springs. I’m not here permanently. Nether is Shelby. If anything, we have the summer.”

  “A summer fling then.” Mom sighed.

  Even after everything, my mother was a romantic at heart. And maybe I had inherited a bit of that, too. But there was also the piece of me that wasn’t sure if I was over Rene.

  I sighed. “I promise you. Eventually I’ll settle down and give you as many grandbabies as you want. Just not right now.”

>   She squeezed my hand. “I’m only mostly teasing you. You look happy, Jonah. And I don’t want to derail that. You deserve to be happy.”

  “Jonah Bodine, is this your mother? Your mama? Maaaa-maaaa.” Newly engaged off-duty Deputy Cassidy Tucker was three sheets to the wind and sloshing beer out of her cup down her arm.

  “Cassidy, meet my mother, Jenny. Mom, this is Scarlett’s best friend and town deputy when she’s not half in the bag.”

  “Pfft,” Cassidy said. “I’m whole in the bag tonight, smarty pants. But I am so excited to make your acquaintance. Your son has just been a delight. Everyone in the whole town loves him, and no one holds the whole illegitimate son of Jonah Sr. against him at all.”

  My mother blinked. “Oh, well. Isn’t that nice?”

  Cassidy leaned in and grabbed her for a sticky hug.

  “Around here, everyone knows everything about everybody,” I cautioned Mom.

  “Apparently so,” she said, looking a little dazed.

  “Bowie Bodine! Get your fine ass over here,” Cassidy bellowed. “I’m so sorry. I rarely drink my face off, Jonah’s Mama. What was your name again? But you see, I don’t have to work tomorrow, and my best friend in the whole wide world, Scarlett Bodine, is building this beautiful house, and we’re gonna get married and have babies together and be sisters just like we always planned. And I’m just so happy I could burst.”

  “You’ll get married and be sisters?” Mom asked, clearly entertained.

  Cassidy closed one eye. “Hang on. I think I got that wrong. Don’t wanna be giving West Virginia a bad impression to you. On you? For you?”

  “Cassidy and Bowie just got engaged tonight,” I explained to my mom.

  “I’ve loved him my whole entire life.” Cassidy sighed, holding up the ring an inch from my mother’s eyes. “And it’s all really happening. All I had to do was stop being a chickenshit and admit what I really wanted.”

  It should have been weird. My mother introducing herself to the children of the man who’d derailed her life. My half-siblings. Meeting half of the town that knew she’d had an affair with a married man. But it was remarkably civil. Friendly even.

  Bootleg loved a friendly scandal.

  Bowie was nearly as inebriated as his fiancée and kept hugging my mom. Jameson beamed at her when my mother told him she’d looked up his art and loved his installation in Charlotte. Gibson brought her a second drink after she finished the gin and tonic Shelby made for her. And while Gibson and my mom discussed the finer points of fast-pitch softball, I pulled Shelby aside.

  “I’m beyond sorry about the interruption.”

  She gave me a wan smile. “It’s fine. Your mom is great.”

  “You look tired. Are you okay? Do you want me to take you home?” She was pale, and those shadows under her eyes concerned me.

  “I’m fine. Just a long day,” she said. “GT and June are going to drive me home. Juney’s hit her wall of peopling for the day.”

  “You sure you’re okay?” I pressed. “I want to talk more about… before.”

  Her smile was a slow burn. “I would also like to do more ‘talking.’”

  “I would, too,” I admitted. “Scarlett might be a problem,” I warned her.

  “We can handle her,” Shelby predicted.

  I laughed. “Have you met my sister?”

  “I believe we handled her just fine today,” she reminded me.

  I remembered Scarlett’s face when Sheriff Tucker slapped the cuffs on Shelby. “We make a good team.”

  “You ready, Shel?” George and June approached. June had a book under her arm and a head lamp on.

  “Ready,” Shelby said, looking several degrees more energetic than she had a minute ago. I wondered if the show was for me or her brother. “I’ll see you back at the house.”

  I wanted to kiss her again, but not with her gigantic brother, my paying client, hovering. It didn’t feel professional… or wise.

  Shelby and June headed in the direction of the car.

  “Funny joke today,” George said. He still didn’t sound like he thought it was very funny.

  “Thanks for not pounding my face in.”

  “As long as you’re good to my sister, that won’t become necessary,” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

  “Good to know. Appreciate the heads-up.”

  He slapped me on the shoulder. It stung. “Now that that’s settled, we can return to our previous dudebro relationship. See you Monday?”

  “Looking forward to it,” I told him, rubbing my shoulder.

  “You better get back over there. Scarlett’s trying to talk your mother into doing shots.”

  “Fuck.”

  * * *

  Me: My mom has officially been inducted into Bootleg Society.

  Shelby: How drunk is she?

  Me: She’s laying in the back seat singing Lady Gaga songs. I’m driving her to the inn and pouring her into her room.

  Shelby: FYI. They have a hangover room service package.

  18

  Shelby

  T he pain in my back was a wildfire that existed to drive me insane. I couldn’t sleep. I’d known I’d overdone it. The whole day on the water, the party, the sun, the gin… the kiss.

  Everything hurt. My back, shoulders, hips, wrists.

  The only thing that temporarily blurred the pain was remembering every second of that kiss.

  I’d kissed Jonah by a bonfire on a clear summer night.

  I’d also discussed the possibility of a no-strings-attached fling with the man.

  And then his mother and my pain brought everything to a screeching halt.

  I’d had to grit my teeth to keep from groaning when I got out of GT’s car. My brother didn’t know. No one knew. And no one was going to know until I had it under control.

  I tried to roll over, looking for a comfortable position on my mattress, and a pathetic moan escaped.

  My room in the Little Yellow House was small. The bed was wedged in between cute little bookcases that doubled as nightstands. Not that there was a need for two of them. It would be impossible to fit two adults on this mattress.

  I groaned again and winced. Fatigue, aches, discomfort. It was like a never-ending case of the flu. Which sucked because at least when I had the flu, I knew there was an end in sight. Not with this.

  “Shelby?” It was followed by a light knock.

  Oh, crap. Jonah. Oh my god. Was he coming in to kiss me again? Was he expecting more? Not when I was curled in a ball with all my synapses lighting up with pain.

  The doorknob turned.

  Maybe if I pretended to be asleep? I closed my eyes.

  “I know you’re awake,” he said, amused from the door. “I’ve seen your sleeping face. Now, you look like you just ate a lemon.”

  I opened one eye. “Oh, hey, Jonah. How’s it going?” Playing it cool. Casual.

  “I heard you moaning. Thin walls. You okay?”

  I winced as turning my head delivered a new shock of pain in my neck. “Must have been dreaming.”

  “Or you must be lying,” he said, taking stock of me. I was curled in the fetal position, stiff as a board. Even I knew this didn’t look natural.

  “I’m just coming down with something. Maybe I had too much sun,” I said lamely.

  “Can I bring you some water or ibuprofen? A hot pad?”

  The sweet, sexy man in my doorway thought I was getting my period.

  It made me laugh, and that made me suck in a sharp breath when my back spasmed.

  He was all the way inside the room now reaching for me. He laid a cool hand on my forehead and one on my back.

  “It’s nothing,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “You take meds every day on a schedule. Meds that you keep hidden in your room. You hold yourself like your back hurts all the time. And now you’re curled up on your bed in the middle of the night moaning in pain, Shelby. Don’t lie to me.”

  “Look, there isn’
t anything anyone can do,” I said, sharper than I’d intended. “Don’t think you can dig into this and fix it.” That’s what he was: A fixer.

  “Talk to me,” he ordered.

  “I don’t want anyone to know,” I confessed, squeezing my eyes shut again.

  “Roommate confidentiality,” he said, his hands still on me. It was so different from the way he’d touched me earlier, still gentle but now almost clinical.

  I cursed my stupid body. He’d never look at me the same now.

  “I have a… condition,” I said, exhaling slowly when the spasm lessened.

  “Okay,” he said, waiting for more.

  “I was just diagnosed this spring, and it’s manageable and annoying, and I hate it, but I’m dealing with it, and it’s my body, so I don’t have to tell my whole family and have them worrying.”

  “Shelby.”

  “Ankylosing spondylitis.” I blurted the words out.

  It was the first time I’d ever said them out loud. And that was weird. It wasn’t like saying it made it more real. Or did it?

  “Bless you,” Jonah joked.

  “Har. Har. It’s a form of arthritis. Spinal arthritis. I could end up bent in half.” I joked, but the thought of it was still terrifying.

  “Arthritis. Inflammation,” he said.

  I nodded into my pillow and tried not to whimper like a big, dumb baby. I hadn’t had a flare since just prior to my diagnosis. I’d thought there was something very, very wrong. Now, at least I had a name for it, and I knew it wasn’t some kind of rare form of meningitis devouring my innards. Small comfort in the moment though. With Hot Roommate Jonah sitting on my bed looking at me at my sweaty, pained worst.

  He got up and walked out.

  “Great. Just great. Thanks a lot, stupid garbage arthritis,” I muttered into my pillow.

  “I can still hear you,” he called dryly. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  I heard the water running in the bathroom and then his quick stride on the stairs. True to his word, he returned a minute later.

  “Here. Take this,” he said. Grumpily, I opened my eyes. Jonah was standing before me. A glass of water in one hand, two caplets in the other.