Whiskey Chaser (Bootleg Springs Book 1)

by Lucy Score

  I nodded. It was part and parcel of the lifestyle. I wanted to advance my career, and that’s how it was done. Sure, it meant a dinner was never just a dinner. And it meant that the work week was never only forty hours long. But public service wasn’t an eight-to-five job. It was a calling. Johanna and I, I’d thought, had thrived on the expectations. Rehashing who we’d said what to on the ride home.

  And here I was in Bootleg Springs, West Virginia, in jeans with a beer and a beautiful woman looking at me like I was the most interesting man in the bar. There was peanut dust on my loafers, and a country band priming the crowd.

  I liked it.

  “Is this what you do most Friday nights?” I asked her. At times, I was struck by how little we knew of each other. At other times, I felt like Scarlett Bodine was an old obsession. I was so aware of everything she did, every expression she made, every emotion that passed behind her eyes.

  She nodded. “This or sometimes Jameson and me order somethin’ bad from every restaurant in town and have a pig-in.”

  “A pig-in?”

  “Yeah, when you eat too much in your own house so no one sees your shame.”

  I laughed, and she grinned at me like there was nothing I could have done that would please her more. I hoped I had a few moves that would.

  18

  Devlin

  Gibson broke into another song, the opening bars of which had The Lookout patrons mobbing up the dance floor. The guy could sing. I’d give him that.

  The song was “Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy,” a country song even I’d heard in passing. And while Gibson sang, I watched his little sister shake her sweet ass on the dance floor. She and Cassidy danced in the middle of a crowd of women who knew every single word to the song. I tried to imagine the last reception or fundraiser I’d been to. Nothing stood out in high-definition like this.

  Bowie sat next to me, staring wistfully at the dance floor.

  “Don’t you dance?” I asked.

  “Huh?” he dragged his eyes away from the dancers.

  “Do you dance?” I asked again.

  “Oh, sure. We all do.” His gaze skated back in Cassidy’s direction. “Gym class always included a dance class: line dancing, square dancing, ballroom.”

  “Then why aren’t you out there?”

  “The view’s better from here.”

  I had to agree with him. Scarlett had ditched the cardigan and had her toned arms raised to the ceiling. She twirled around, her hair catching the air and floating behind her.

  “Jesus, you guys are pathetic,” Jameson muttered.

  “Huh?” Bowie and I said together.

  “It appears they’re both sexually frustrated,” June said, a scientist observing bacteria under a microscope.

  Bowie and I glanced at each other and then looked away quickly.

  “You ever date, Juney?” Bowie asked.

  She frowned. “Of course. When I find someone who is smart enough not to complicate things with unreasonable expectations and demands.”

  “Unreasonable?” Jameson guessed.

  “Someone who thinks it’s okay to schedule dates on the weekends during football season.”

  “You make a good point,” Bowie said.

  My eyes found Scarlett again, and I watched her dance until the song changed again and she returned to the table.

  “What’d I miss?” she asked.

  “June only dates football fans,” Jameson announced. “And Bowie and McCallister are sexually frustrated.”

  “Is that so?” Scarlett regained her seat and snuggled into my side. I threaded my fingers through her hair and thought about how everything in this moment was just about perfect.

  “Uh-oh,” she breathed.

  When I didn’t react immediately to whatever country danger she’d spotted, Scarlett poked me in the ribs.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  She pointed at the dance floor where Cassidy was being pulled into the arms of a two-stepping cowboy type.

  “That’s Amos Sheridan.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, leaning in to brush my lips against her hair.

  “Cassidy’s ex.”

  “They look friendly enough.”

  “I’m not worried about them,” she said, staring pointedly at Bowie.

  Amos should have been counting his lucky stars that no one ever died from a stare down. Because the one Bowie was sending in his direction could have incinerated flesh and bone.

  Bowie’s jaw was set in a tense line. Scarlett leaned across me. “Get out there, Bow,” she hissed at him.

  He didn’t even look in her direction but simply got up and stalked toward the dance floor.

  Scarlett clamped her hand on my thigh, and I knew I should be focusing on the action in front of the stage, but her touch was distracting enough that I didn’t care whether Bowie punched a guy out or not.

  In one smooth move, Bowie cut in and took Cassidy in his arms.

  Scarlett breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I need water and a game of pool,” she announced.

  June and Jameson brought their index fingers to their noses. “Not it.”

  “Well, Devlin. It looks like it’s your lucky day,” she said with a sly grin.

  “Don’t bet anything higher than a twenty,” Jameson warned me as Scarlett pulled me away from the table.

  “Don’t listen to them,” she said. “I’ll go easy on you.”

  We grabbed waters from Nicolette, who was remarkably relaxed for a woman in charge of the thirty hard-drinking Bootleggers at her bar.

  “Come on, handsome. Let’s see what you can do with a stick,” Scarlett said, leading the way to the pool tables. There was one in the back corner that was empty.

  She handed me the pool cue and started racking the balls. I tried not to stare at the rise of her skirt, but it was a futile effort. “You wanna break?” she offered.

  I didn’t want to do anything that would prevent me from watching her. I shook my head. “Be my guest.”

  She tucked the rack back in the table and chalked her stick. There wasn’t anything overtly sexy about what she was doing, but I was mesmerized. She leaned over, lining up on the ball, and I held my breath. The denim was a millimeter from showing me what I wanted to see. What I needed to see. I willed the skirt higher from my position on the wall, and as if the universe heard my prayer, I caught a peek of simple white cotton.

  Instead of relief, my blood started pumping through my veins at adrenaline speeds. I’d seen my share of expensive lingerie. But there was something about that peek of white cotton that had me mesmerized.

  I hadn’t even realized she’d broke until she moved. She’d already pocketed two balls and was lining up a third. She ran the table, shooting me sexy little looks that made my mouth dry and my dick harder than it had ever been in my life.

  Pool as foreplay. I grabbed my water and nearly bobbled it when Scarlett threw her leg over the table to line up a trick shot.

  “You like what you see, Devlin?” she asked sweetly.

  I nodded, not trusting my voice. She sank the shot and danced a little boogie. “Winner, winner. Chicken dinner. I believe I just kicked your ass, McCallister.”

  “I never had a chance.”

  She danced over to me, hips swaying in time to the beat of the music. “How about you break this time?”

  Every time she bent over in that skirt, I was on the verge of a heart attack.

  She smirked, winked, and I was gone.

  I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t do public displays of affection. It wasn’t done. But one second Scarlett was standing in front of me shimmying to the music, and the next, I had her pushed against the table while I plundered her mouth. I loved that moment when she softened into me, when she relaxed into the kiss and I was in control. Control had never mattered to me before, but now when my world had been upended, I craved it.

  And Scarlett made me feel like I was both powerful and powerless. She opened for me, her hands pinned
between us. And I pressed my advantage, licking into her mouth, stroking my tongue against hers. I could taste the sugar of her drink, the flavored gloss on her lips. I’d been hard all evening, and now that I was touching her, I thought I might just die.

  “Where’d you learn to kiss like that?” she breathed, pulling back. Her hair hung down her back, and I shoved my hands into it and nipped at her bottom lip.

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “Like I’m the only girl in the world you want to kiss.”

  I would have dived back in, but she stopped me. “Come on, handsome. I’ll let you break this time.”

  She walked back to the table, and my body missed her as if she’d left the state. I took my yet-to-be-used cue, did my best to adjust my now painful hard-on, and followed her to the table. She was killing me, toying with me. And once again, I was powerless.

  She racked the balls for me and leaned against the end of the table, giving me a prime view down the scoop of her tank. There was more white cotton visible, and I felt the sweat break out on my back. Was she testing me?

  I lined up behind the ball, gave a few practice thrusts and shot.

  The cue ball stopped dead at the top of the triangle, and two other balls slowly limped away from the grouping.

  Scarlett raised an eyebrow at me. “That’s the worst break I’ve ever seen.”

  “I’m a little distracted here,” I said dryly.

  “Maybe you need some personal coaching.” She trailed her fingers along the edge of the green and returned to me. “Excuse me,” Scarlett said, giving me a nudge away from the table with her ass.

  She re-racked the balls. “Come here, Dev,” Scarlett said leaning over the table with her pool stick. I gritted my teeth. I approached her from behind and stopped with a breath of space between us.

  She looked over her shoulder at me. “Closer,” she ordered.

  My cock sang hallelujah when it lined up with the sweet curves of her ass. “Good boy,” she praised. “Now come on down here.”

  I leaned over her like I was taking the shot, holding the stick where her hands were. I glanced around us, but the other pool-playing patrons were busy hustling each other and telling stories. I leaned down and bit her shoulder.

  “Mmmm,” she purred.

  I couldn’t help myself. I flexed my hips into her, grinding my cock against her. Even through two layers of denim, I could almost feel her slick opening. She leaned back into me, neither one of us in a hurry to take the shot.

  There was a commotion coming from the dance floor and stage, and the rest of the pool players went to investigate. We were all alone in the dark corner of the bar.

  “What’s going on?” I breathed, nuzzling her hair.

  “Probably a fight. There’s usually one or two on a Friday night. It’s what we do for entertainment in Bootleg.”

  She wriggled her hips, cuddling against my erection, and I groaned in her ear. “Scarlett.”

  “Devlin.” She said my name like a dare.

  And for once in my life, I was up for it. I took my hand off the back of the stick and slid it between her and the table. It took no effort to slip beneath her skirt.

  “Yes,” she sighed, stepping her feet wider.

  I wanted to torture her the way she’d tortured me all night, but one brush of cotton against my fingertip, and I couldn’t slow down. There was a damp spot the size of a quarter, and it drove me wild knowing that she’d been wet the whole time I’d been hard for her. I brushed the wet spot over and over again, tracing tight little circles, and Scarlett gasped, rocking back against me. I couldn’t help myself. I flipped her skirt up revealing those sexy little briefs covering her sweet, round ass cheeks.

  “Touch me, Dev,” she breathed. And I obliged.

  I slipped my hand down the front of her underwear and found my personal heaven. She was wet and warm and oh so soft. I ground my cock against her, wishing I could unzip right here and slide home. I wanted her like this, helpless and begging under me while I rode her. I thrust a finger inside her, and she cried out.

  Whatever was happening at the stage was getting louder. The music had stopped, and there was shouting. But I didn’t care. I was fingering Scarlett Bodine while she rode my dick with her ass. I slid another finger into her, and she sobbed out my name. I held her down by the back of the neck. Her hair falling over her face and fanning out over the green of the table. I’d never seen anything sexier in my life. Submissive Scarlett.

  “Dev. I need you to fuck me right now,” she hissed. Not completely submissive, I realized with a pained grin.

  “Baby, I’d love to take my cock out right now, but I think those flashing lights outside mean the cops are here.”

  She groaned, and I let her lift her head high enough to look. “Shit!”

  “Should we go make sure your brothers—”

  “They’re fine. They probably started it.”

  I let her up, and she spun to face me. Her face was flushed, and her gray eyes were glassy and dazed. My fingers were still wet with her arousal, and I wanted to find out what she tasted like. I could see her nipples through her shirt, pebbling against the confines of a thin bra. I wanted to taste those too.

  “Come on,” Scarlett said, nodding toward the emergency exit.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To have sex!”

  “Isn’t that door alarmed?” But she was already bumping the door with her hip. We made it five whole steps outside when we were stopped by a cop.

  “Evenin’ Sheriff,” Scarlett said cheerfully.

  “Scarlett,” he nodded affectionately at her and then gave me the eye. He was a tall man with a thick graying mustache. He looked oddly familiar. “Sounds like there’s trouble. You start it again?”

  Scarlett’s eyes widened and crossed her heart. “I swear on a stack of bibles it wasn’t me. My guess is Bowie and Amos got into it,” Scarlett said, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “When’s that brother of yours gonna get up the courage to ask my daughter out?” the sheriff sighed.

  “Probably about the time they’re celebrating their eightieth birthdays in the nursing home,” Scarlett predicted.

  “Sounds about right. Well, I’d best get in there. See ya next time. Or come by for dinner. You know we love havin’ y’all.” Again, he gave me the once over. I got the feeling I wasn’t included in the “y’all.”

  “Will do!” Scarlett said. She clamped her hand on my arm, and we hauled ass to her truck while the sheriff went to restore order.

  “Buckle up, honey,” Scarlett announced as she floored it out of the parking lot. “You might want to take this time to lose some clothes,” she suggested.

  “You want me to get naked in a truck?”

  “I don’t care where we are as long as you’re naked and doing very bad things to me.” Her headlights cut through downtown Bootleg. It was late, and the shops and restaurants were closed. She headed in the opposite direction of our houses.

  “Where are we going?”

  “With as stirred up as I am right now, there’s no way I’m makin’ it home. We’re gonna have to improvise.” She turned down an alley, and within a block the streetlights were gone, and the houses got farther and farther apart. We were on a dirt back road driving too fast, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to survive the night.

  19

  Scarlett

  The moonlight was bright, and I found what I was looking for, the old for sale sign on the side of the road. It was pastureland and some lakefront property. Five acres that had been for sale since I was fifteen. I pulled off the road onto the little path that dipped low and then crested again into a slow rolling hill. Anyone driving by could see us. And I liked that.

  I pulled the parking brake.

  “Here?” Devlin asked, peering into the dark.

  “There’s no five-star hotel. But it’s close and quiet, and all the cops in town are at the bar. Plus, my brothers are hopefully being arrested, so they can�
��t interrupt us. Now take your pants off.”

  I hopped out of the truck and reached behind my seat. I always kept a spare quilt or two in the back. And tonight I’d be putting them to good use.

  Devlin got out of the truck slowly as if he wasn’t sure that I was serious. I dropped the tailgate and spread the quilts out in the bed of the truck. He was still fully clothed and looking more confused by the minute.

  I didn’t want him to start overthinking it.

  “We have two perfectly good beds at our houses. More if we use Jonah’s or one of the other guest rooms,” he said.

  I shut him up by taking my tank top off.

  “Oh, fuck,” he whispered.

  “Catch up, Devlin.” I didn’t wait for him to start. I made a grab for his belt. He resisted for a minute, but when I unzipped his jeans and his cock finally escaped its prison, Devlin came back to life. He gripped the sides of my face and kissed me. He stole my breath when he kissed me. I’d kissed my fair share of men. Hell, I’d been kissing since second grade. That might have been about the time my mama started insisting that I wait until thirty before I settled down.

  But I’d never been kissed the way Devlin did it. He kissed me like he had to, like I was air and he needed me to live. I liked it and was terrified by it.

  And whenever something scared me, I did it again and again until fear turned to excitement... or boredom. That’s what I was going to do to Devlin.

  His hands left my face and found my breasts. I wished I’d had something fancier for him. Maybe if he stuck around for a while, I’d invest in some silks and laces. But he didn’t seem to mind what I was wearing.

  He pulled back for a second, his face serious. “I was with Johanna for five years.”

  “Uh-huh.” My focus was on his belt. The one that I was sliding out of his belt loops.

  “I mean, I haven’t been with anyone else for five years. So, if there’s something new—”

  “Honey, I’m gonna take good care of you. Don’t you worry about anything,” I promised.

  Then Devlin’s mouth was on mine, bruising my lips with a forceful kiss. I liked him like this, taking what he wanted. Strong and focused. I’d never been one to play the submissive chick in bed, but when he looked at me like he was right now, there wasn’t much I wouldn’t do.