Gin Fling: Bootleg Springs Book Five

by Score, Lucy

  That was life. The good, the bad, the ugly all mixed together in a special kind of recipe of possibility.

  Gratefully, I sank to the ground and swapped out my cycling shoes for my running shoes. I guzzled more water and wished for dino nuggets while I snarfed down a packet of gross energy gel crap for some calories.

  My body was so tired. It was tempting to just lay down here on my towel next to my bike. But that’s not why I was here. I could nap tomorrow. And eat all the dino nuggets I wanted. Jonah promised. For now, I needed to get up and push for another thirty or forty minutes. That was it.

  I’d done worse things for longer. Heck, I’d been stabbed. I could freaking finish this race.

  Using the seat of my bike, I pulled myself back up to standing.

  I lumbered my way back to the start. My legs felt like overcooked spaghetti.

  “The run’s my worst,” Gus said, appearing next to me. “If you need to leave me out there to finish, you do it.”

  “Not happening, Gus, my man,” Tameka said, between hits from her water bottle.

  “Let’s do this,” I said, putting my hand out. “Three point one miles is the only thing that stands between us and grandkid hugs and five hundred dollars and all the dino nuggets I can eat.”

  Their hands joined mine.

  “Let’s do this,” Gus wheezed.

  “I want that money,” Tameka huffed.

  “I want those nuggets.”

  We started off slowly, and I tried to focus on form. It deteriorated when I was tired, and I was so freaking tired. My legs felt like blobby gelatin in an earthquake. I added Jell-O to the list of things I was going to eat tomorrow.

  I should have chosen to prove a point with just a 5k. Or maybe a nice hike. Then I remembered bears. I glanced around at the scenery. We were on a country road, but the woods were thin enough that I felt confident I could see a large mammal coming at me.

  West Virginia really was beautiful. The trees were lush and green. Fields and hills rolled off in all directions in more greens and yellows and browns. This part of the road was flanked by a tidy split rail fence.

  I steadied my breath and focused on the rhythm of my foot strikes.

  “First mile is the worst,” I whispered to myself.

  I wished Jonah was here, urging me on. Squirting water on me. Telling me I could do this.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” Tameka said through gritted teeth.

  “You are absolutely doing this,” I told her, glancing down at my watch. “Five hundred dollars in exactly two miles.” One mile down. The worst mile.

  Gus was wheezing on my left. He didn’t have the oxygen to spare to complain. So I did it for him.

  “It’s so hot. Like convection oven broiling a steak hot.”

  “Like coal-fired pizza oven hot,” Tameka gasped out.

  I added pizza to my Sunday meal list.

  Gus grunted.

  I was sweating so much I felt like I might dehydrate into a raisin.

  But my legs kept moving.

  We all kept going forward. Things were starting to hurt. My shins, my heels, my arches. I could tell I was going to have bra burn from the amount of salt exploding from my pores. But my breath was still there. My feet were still moving.

  The crowd around us had thinned.

  Some pulling ahead in the run, others slowing to walk. The August sun beat down on us, bouncing back off the asphalt of the road.

  I thought about what I wanted after this. Thought about calling Jonah from the finish line with my medal. Thought about calling my parents. I’d tell them. I could tell them now. Because I’d done this.

  We paused at a water station, rehydrating and rinsing the sweat from our faces and necks.

  “How much farther?” Tameka asked.

  Gus was still too winded to speak.

  “One mile to go,” the attendant said cheerfully.

  We pushed off again without discussing it.

  One mile. I repeated it to myself. Chanted it. There’d been a time just a few short months ago when a mile hadn’t been possible. When I’d battled pain just from existing. Now, I had one mile left to go, and I was going to finish.

  The hair on my arms rose. I hoped it was determination and not a symptom of heat exhaustion.

  “One mile, guys,” I barked. “We’re finishing this!”

  It was the longest mile of my life. That ribbon of road seemed to stretch on indefinitely, and I wondered if maybe I’d stumbled into some strange corner of hell where the race never ended. The torture was never over.

  Then I heard cheering.

  “There! Over the hill,” Tameka hissed.

  Gus, the workhorse, hadn’t lifted his gaze from his sneakers since Mile Two. “Just lead me in the right direction,” he puffed without looking up.

  The hill, the longest, tallest hill in the history of West Virginia geography, gave way to the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life.

  The finish line.

  The route was lined with spectators and athletes who’d finished ages ago. I wanted to hate them, but I didn’t have the energy.

  “It’s all downhill from here,” I wheezed.

  “Let’s do this,” Gus said.

  “I’m definitely puking,” Tameka confirmed.

  “Do it after the finish line.” Together, we took the decline. The cheers, the flutter of the Finish Line sign drew us in like a siren’s song.

  It was really happening. I was finishing an entire triathlon with a disease. I couldn’t tell the difference between sweat and tears. Judging from the wet snorts coming from my compatriots, they were experiencing the same sense of overwhelm.

  The cheers were deafening. I felt them in my blood and bones.

  Community. Connection.

  “Let’s do this, ladies,” Gus said, his voice cracking.

  Together, we linked hands and, sobbing and sweating, made our way across the finish line.

  I. Did. It.

  The heartbeat that hammered in my head said it over and over again.

  I. Did. It.

  There was more cheering. Gus was dragged away by a horde of toddlers chanting “Grampa!” Tameka was bent at the waist over a trash can laughing.

  And Jonah was… here.

  In a suit and tie. Holding the biggest bouquet of flowers I’d ever seen. And a piece of pizza. He was here. For me. With pizza.

  These were tears.

  He pushed his way through, the crowd parting around him, and I was running again. He tossed the flowers over his shoulder and caught me mid-leap.

  “You did it, Shelby! You fucking did it,” he shouted over the noise. His joy was palpable. I could reach out and hold on to his happiness for me. “I’m so fucking proud of you!”

  I threw my arms around his neck. “I did it,” I confirmed with an undignified sob. “And I’m in love with you!”

  * * *

  Q. What’s one thing you wish your neighbors would recognize about you?

  Scarlett Bodine: That I’m a damn genius when it comes to pairing folks up. If people would just stop stickin’ to their guns and actin’ like they know best I could wrap up my goal of romantic matchmaking domination a hell of a lot faster.

  50

  Shelby

  I wasn’t sure if I’d said it loud enough for him to catch the words over the roar of the crowd. Runners were finishing around us. Spectators were cheering. And I’d just shouted my declaration of love in the middle of it.

  He lowered me slowly, gently to the ground, and I was grateful when my legs didn’t give out.

  “What did you say?” he asked in a half shout. I was getting his suit sweaty, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  I looked him in the eye, squared my shoulders, and delivered the message again. “I love you, Jonah Bodine.”

  Something flickered in those sharp green eyes.

  “I finished my dissertation last night and the triathlon five seconds ago. Summer’s coming to an end. But I’m hopin
g this is just the beginning for us.”

  He opened his mouth, but I shut him up with a hard, sweaty kiss. “I sprang this on you, and I’m not expecting an answer. Figure out how you feel and let me know when you’re ready.”

  “You’re a hell of a girl, Shelby,” he said softly.

  “I am, aren’t I?” I agreed with a grin that I felt in my soul. “Now, gimmie that pizza.”

  He handed it over with a grin.

  Then someone else was calling my name. “Shelby!”

  “Mom? Dad?”

  I blinked as my parents wound their way to us.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Dad snatched me out of Jonah’s grasp and squeezed me tight. “We are so proud of you, Shelby!” He had his GT touchdown face on. Only this time it was for me. And I was sweating and crying again.

  “We saw you come across the finish line, and I swear it gave me goose bumps,” Mom said, leaning in for her hug and kiss.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” I said, my voice breaking.

  My parents shared a baffled look.

  “Why wouldn’t we be here?” Dad asked, looking confused.

  “It’s just a sprint tri,” I said.

  “It’s your sprint tri,” Mom insisted. “And it’s a huge deal, Shelby.”

  It was a huge deal. They didn’t even know how huge a deal it was.

  It made me want to cry… or keep crying. At this point, between the sweat and the tears, my face was a salt mine. Everything was gritty, and I wasn’t sure where the moisture was coming from. I thought I’d do this alone. I’d finish this alone. But I’d never been alone in the first place.

  “You guys, I’m in love with Jonah,” I announced. “And I finished my dissertation finally last night. And I don’t want to find a home for Billy Ray. I want to keep him. Also, I was diagnosed with ankylosing spondylitis earlier this year. But it’s going to be okay because I just finished a triathlon, so I can pretty much do anything.”

  My parents shared another one of those baffled looks. “I’m not really sure where we should start with that,” Dad admitted.

  I pulled him down for a hug. “Everything is going to be great.”

  “Shelby! Let’s get a picture!” Gus and Tameka, re-energized by sports drinks, bananas, and familial accolades, pushed their way into our little circle.

  Introductions were made. Photos were taken. Pizza eaten. And I finally got my hands on a finisher’s medal. It hung around my neck with a significant weight.

  And while all of that was going on, Jonah’s quiet gaze never left me.

  Steady. Secure. Proud. Amused. All things I loved about him.

  I grinned and winked at him. I’d proved to myself everything I’d set out to prove. And now the real fun could begin.

  “Yes!” Tameka fist-pumped her phone in the air. “I beat my sister by a whole two minutes!”

  “There she is!” The Breakfast Club, thankfully fully clothed now, pushed their way through the finish line crowd. More introductions were made, and I felt thoroughly surrounded by love.

  “So, uh, what’s with the suit?” Gus asked Jonah. “You proposing?”

  I laughed as my parents went back to looking dazed. “He’s in his brother’s wedding today, but he surprised me here,” I explained.

  Mom’s eyes went misty.

  “What time is it?” I demanded.

  Dad read off the time from his watch.

  “We need to get you to a wedding,” I exclaimed.

  “What about your bike? The rest of your stuff?” Jonah asked.

  “You go,” I insisted. “I’ve got plenty of help. Go.”

  Still he paused. He had things to say. But I had time to hear them.

  I rose on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his clean-shaven cheek. “We’ll talk later. I’m good. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

  He stared down at me, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I’ll see you there.” He kissed me on the mouth for a few NC-17 seconds before pulling back.

  “See you all later,” he said. Jonah blew me a kiss as he backed away.

  “That boy is head over heels for you,” Granny Louisa sighed.

  “That would be awfully convenient,” I said, watching the suited shoulders of Jonah Bodine disappear into the crowd.

  “So, honey, um, back to this ankle-losing thing?” Mom said, trying to draw my attention back.

  * * *

  While the Breakfast Club hauled my gear back to Bootleg Springs, I sprawled out in the back seat of my mom’s sedan and answered all their questions about my diagnosis. Mom did an internet search on her phone while Dad drove, and I spent the last fifteen minutes of the drive talking her down.

  “Never do an internet search on a diagnosis, Mom! You know these things.”

  She was staring in horror at a worst-case scenario image search. Dad swerved trying to peer at the phone screen.

  “You guys! This isn’t terminal, but smashing through a guardrail might be. Can we please focus on the fact that I have this under control, and I’ll let you know if there’s a reason to worry?”

  “I can’t tell if you’re Pollyanna-ing us again,” Dad griped.

  “Pollyanna-ing you?” I asked.

  “Oh, I’m fine guys! Just a little mishap at work with a very small knife. It’s hardly a scratch,” Dad said in a falsetto.

  “Come on! I didn’t want you to—”

  “Worry,” my parents said together, rolling their eyes at each other.

  “What? Is that so wrong?” I demanded. “Isn’t part of being a family trying to protect each other?”

  “Part of being a family is trusting each other to handle the tough stuff,” Mom said, clearly not happy with me.

  “So I’ve heard,” I said dryly. I pulled my shoes off and blanched at the smell. I was going to need six showers before showing up at the wedding.

  “And if you want to have a real relationship with that handsome Jonah Bodine, you’re going to have to figure that out. Isn’t that right, James?”

  “Do you think Scarlett would have a lead on any fixer-uppers in Bootleg?” Dad mused, having tuned out the meat of the conversation.

  “What? Why?” Mom asked.

  “If both our kids end up here, we should probably have a home base. We already have a pig and a puppy for grandchildren.”

  “It is a nice town,” Mom agreed.

  And just like that, Bootleg Springs reeled in a fresh catch.

  * * *

  We arrived back in Bootleg a scant hour before the wedding. I needed to fly through a shower and makeup and hair if I was going to make it before Cassidy walked down the aisle.

  Dad pulled up in front of the Little Yellow House and turned off the car.

  “Are you guys coming in?” I asked, already peeling my skin off the car seat and heading for the front porch.

  “Bowie and Cassidy invited us to the wedding. We’re your ride,” Dad called. I was reaching for the screen door to yank it open when I noticed the roll of paper between the doors.

  “What’s that? A love note from Jonah?” Mom asked. “He’s a keeper, Shelby.”

  My parents walked past me into the house and immediately went into grandparent mode, releasing Billy Ray from his crate and showering him with treats and kisses.

  It was such a domestic scene. My parents making themselves at home in my house, playing with my dog.

  But none of that registered.

  Slowly, I unrolled the paper already knowing what I’d find. It was a crude charcoal sketch of a woman with thick bangs and wide eyes. She had an upturned nose and a scar on her chest. She was naked.

  “How did you find me?” I whispered.

  Billy Ray jumped on me in sweet, puppy delight, and I scooped him up.

  I looked over my shoulder and took my time studying every inch of the woods and yard.

  Was he out there now?

  Did he expect me to be as helpless as I’d been the last time?

  He was go
ing to be disappointed.

  “Shelby,” Mom called. “If you don’t get in the shower now, we’re going to be late!”

  51

  Jonah

  If Bowie’s smile got any bigger, his face was going to split open. I’d never seen a man happier or more ready to march down the aisle.

  “Did you see her? How does she look?” he asked me for the third time. My brother was referring to his bride.

  “Yes, I saw Cassidy,” I said again. I picked up the beer that Bowie kept putting down and handed it back to him. He needed something to do with his hands. “She looks—”

  “Wait. Don’t tell me. I wanna be surprised. Leah Mae made her dress,” he said, imparting the information he’d mentioned at least sixteen times since I’d shown up.

  Jameson growled at his tie in the mirror in the sheriff’s den. Cassidy and the girls had commandeered the entire second floor of the Tucker household. The guests had taken over the backyard.

  Gibson adjusted his suspenders, frowning.

  There was a knock at the door. “Are you boys decent?” My mom poked her head in the door.

  She was pretty as a spring day, as the town elders would say, in a blue and white dress that nipped in at the waist and fell away into a full skirt. Her short blonde cap of hair was accentuated with a sparkly headband.

  “Hey, Jenny.” Bowie greeted her with the full wattage of his smile.

  “Oh my,” she said, stepping inside. She gave my arm a squeeze before turning her attention to Bowie. “You look almost as excited as your bride.” She brushed a hand over his lapels.

  “I can’t believe it’s finally happening,” he said softly.

  “Are you nervous?” Mom asked him.

  He shook his head emphatically then said, “Yes.”

  She laughed. “Okay. Then here’s some advice. When the processional music starts. Close your eyes and count to five. When you open them, you’ll be looking right at your beautiful bride. You want to remember every step she takes to you. You want to remember the second her hand touches yours and that first smile she gives you. Because the rest of the night is going to be a whirlwind. But you want to remember those moments for the rest of your life.”