Whiskey Chaser (Bootleg Springs Book 1)

by Lucy Score

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was late for a non-emergency call. When I saw my mother’s number on the screen, I answered.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “No, everything is decidedly not all right, Devlin,” she said, her tone clipped.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You were supposed to stay out of sight. Not parade your bumpkin girlfriend around the city, rubbing her in Johanna’s face. Just imagine how it looks. Like you’re trying to get revenge by traipsing around some trophy—”

  “Scarlett isn’t a trophy,” I interrupted, annoyed at the comparison. “And I don’t give a good goddamn what Johanna thinks about me moving on with my life. She moved on with hers while we were still married!”

  “She at least did it discreetly,” my mother shot back.

  “I can’t believe you’re defending her.”

  “And I can’t believe my son who has been groomed for this life is so willing to throw it all away. People were just starting to forget, and then you have to surprise everyone with Redneck Ruby.”

  “Scarlett,” I corrected.

  “Devlin, forgive me for saying so, but does it sound like I care what her name is? I’m not having some barefoot country hillbilly ruining your career. We’ve worked so hard for this, given you every opportunity, and to see you just throwing it away on a girl...” she trailed off as if she couldn’t bear to finish the thought.

  “I’m not throwing anything away. I’m finally enjoying myself for the first time in thirty-some years, Mother.”

  “Enjoying yourself?” her tone was reaching into the upper octaves of horror. “Do you think you have the liberty to enjoy yourself? McCallisters serve. It’s a responsibility and an honor.”

  “You’re overreacting,” I told her. My blood pressure was rising. It wasn’t the first time one of my parents had laid a guilt trip to keep me on the straight and narrow. I always caved.

  “You’re not grasping the damage you’ve done tonight. Everyone is talking about you and her. Blake is going to have to work overtime just to sweep this under the rug.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong. I took my girlfriend to an event where we both had a nice time,” I said evenly.

  “The fact that you refuse to even consider the ramifications just proves that you’re not ready to come back. Your father is going to be devastated. You’re acting like you don’t even want this anymore.”

  I scraped my hand through my hair, pacing the kitchen. “I have to go, Mother.”

  She huffed out a few more insults and guilt trips and I disconnected.

  Once they met her, they’d understand the draw. But I wasn’t about to force Scarlett into a visit with them. Certainly not now. She’d done nothing wrong. Hell, I wasn’t convinced that I had either. Why would being with someone who made me happy, made me feel stronger, be wrong? Scarlett had been there for me when my own family closed ranks against me, shunning me. It had been Scarlett who’d picked up the pieces and put them back together again. It was Scarlett who—

  “You look like you’re contemplating a word problem on the SATs,” she said lightly from behind me. I turned to admire the view.

  She wore a cami and short set in soft heather gray with pink trim. Pajamas had never looked so sexy. My anger over my mother’s phone call was already dulling.

  I handed her a glass of wine.

  “I heard you talking,” she confessed, perching on the arm of the leather armchair.

  “My mother called,” I told her, pushing her hair over her shoulder and trailing my fingertips down her neck.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, her gray eyes wide and worried.

  I nodded. “Everything is good,” I murmured.

  She perked up. “So we can eat that pizza that smells like heaven?”

  I smiled down at her. “I’ll get the plates.”

  “Can we eat on the balcony?” she asked, nodding toward the glass wall.

  “Of course.” We divided up slices and plates and spices—garlic salt for her, oregano for me—and juggled everything to the sliding door. Annapolis on the water was always quiet at night. I could hear the faraway echoes of late night diners on a restaurant patio overlooking the bay.

  Boat mooring lights glowed and bobbed gently in the night.

  Scarlett flopped down in one of the cushioned patio chairs and propped her bare feet up on the railing. She was so different from Johanna. I didn’t know why I felt the need to make the comparison other than the fact that my ex-wife and I had attended so many events like the one tonight. Johanna had never picked up a horseshoe or caused a scene over malicious gossip. And when we’d come home, she’d change into silk pajamas and sip hot tea while we discussed who said what to whom. She wasn’t a woman to prop her feet up on anything or to ever consider pizza a meal.

  “I can practically hear you thinking,” Scarlett said dryly, with her mouth full.

  I gave her a half smile. “Just thinking about tonight.”

  “You’re thinking about a lot more than just tonight. Did it feel good to be back?” she asked, mopping at the sauce on the corner of her mouth.

  “It felt...” I paused and thought. “Familiar. Comfortable.”

  “Hmm,” she said without further comment.

  “My mother was unhappy that I came back. She felt it was too early.”

  Scarlett rolled her eyes. “A mother who doesn’t want to see her son. Nice.”

  “There are appearances to be maintained,” I said in a falsetto.

  Scarlett laughed in appreciation. “Let me guess, she wasn’t happy with you parading your redneck girlfriend all over the place.”

  “She may have mentioned something along those lines,” I hedged.

  Scarlett laid her hand on my wrist. “It’s okay. Because I probably won’t like her either.”

  I choked on my wine laughing. It made my nose burn.

  We ate in silence for a few minutes. “What are you and Gibson fighting about?” I asked.

  “Devlin McCallister! You are tenacious!”

  “It’s the attorney side of me.”

  She sighed heavily, and I felt a sliver of guilt for pushing her. “Cleaning out our father’s house brought up a lot of... history,” she explained. “Gibson has always hated Daddy. And the one thing he hates more than that is my loyalty to him.”

  “He saw you caring for your dad as a slap in the face?”

  She nodded, sipping her wine slowly. “It’s an issue we’ve kept buried for a long time. He never understood why I kept forgiving our dad and kept trying. Gibson didn’t have a healthy relationship with my father. He got the worst of it, and he’s hurt that I chose to forgive rather than hold grudges alongside him.”

  “And this all just came to a head?” I asked.

  “We finally said all the words we’d been holdin’ in. It wasn’t pretty, and now we have to wait for the dust to settle.”

  “So why shut me out?” I asked.

  She gave a little one-shouldered shrug and stared straight ahead into the night. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just used to handling things on my own.”

  “When your mother was upset with your father or one of you, what would she do?”

  “Ugh. It was the worst. She’d give us the silent treatment for days. Just freeze everyone out.”

  I lifted an eyebrow and waited.

  “Wait... you’re not saying—”

  “Maybe you’re seeing the other side of that?” I suggested mildly. “You were angry and overwhelmed and froze me out.”

  She opened her mouth and shut it again. “I don’t like this conversation. Not one bit.”

  “We all carry pieces of our parents,” I reminded her.

  “Your mama just called to yell at you for showing your face in town. What part of her are you carrying around like a cross to bear?” Scarlett demanded.

  She was angry at the implication, but at least she was still talking to me.

  “From my mother?” I mused. Sud
denly I wasn’t liking this conversation either.

  “Yeah, not so much fun now, is it buddy?” Scarlett said smugly.

  “Let’s just boil it down to this. It hurt me when you froze me out, Scarlett. I’ve already had one relationship end because someone was keeping secrets and holding things back from me. I’m not interested in a repeat.”

  She swallowed hard, keeping her gaze straight ahead into the darkness. I couldn’t read her thoughts and felt unsettled.

  “The thing about secrets is some of them need to be kept,” she said quietly.

  “Bullshit.”

  She put her wine down on the concrete, placed her plate beside it, and rose. She moved to me in the dark and pulled her hair out of the confines of the band she’d secured it with. She was a goddess of the night. I knew I should press. I should insist on continuing the conversation, but she was taking my glass, my plate, and setting them aside.

  And then she was settling herself astride my lap.

  I opened my mouth, but no words came forth. She scooted higher so that my hardening cock was buried at the apex of her thighs, begging to be released from my pants.

  The need was instantaneous. She purred and circled her hips against me. And then she brushed her full lips against mine. An aphrodisiac. That’s what the taste of Scarlett Bodine was. I kissed her like a deprived man, shoving my hands into her hair, thrusting my hips up against her. I wanted in, regardless of the thin layers of clothing that separated us.

  She poured herself into the kiss, and as our tongues slid and danced around each other, I ghosted my palms over her breasts. Her nipples budded under the fabric of her shirt instantly at my touch. She made me feel powerful and weak in the same breath. Invincible and desperate.

  “We should go inside,” I whispered, pressing fevered kisses to her lips, her jaw, her neck.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t have a condom on me.” My dick twitched between us, trying to convince me that we didn’t need one.

  Scarlett grinned, slow and feline. “Check my pocket.”

  “What pocket?”

  She tapped the tiny square of pink fabric just above her breast.

  I dipped a finger into the pocket and felt the brush of foil. “Ingenious little devil, aren’t you?” I asked.

  “Less talking. More nudity,” she insisted.

  I glanced around us. There was no one in front of us, but the balconies were separated by brick walls. No one could see us without leaning out over their balcony to peer around the wall, but anyone could hear us. “We have to be quiet,” I warned her.

  “I’ll make sure you don’t scream my name too loud,” she promised.

  I groaned as she shifted against me, grinding against my insistent erection.

  “I want you fast,” she said. Without preamble, she shoved her hand in the waistband of my pants and gripped my shaft.

  I let out a hiss of breath. This woman would be the death of me eventually. But hopefully not in the next half an hour.

  I spread my legs wider for her, and Scarlett rose on her knees, freeing my cock from the confines of the pants. She ripped the foil with her teeth, and I helped her shaking hands roll the condom down my aching dick.

  Her little shorts sported a small wet spot, and I pressed my thumb against it. I could feel her heat through the thin cotton. She shivered and let out a quiet little moan. I stroked her with the pad of my thumb, pressing through her shorts, and then she was gripping my cock and guiding it between her legs. Understanding her intent, I tugged the crotch of her shorts to the side and lined myself up with her opening. She settled onto my tip, enveloping the first inch in that slick, wet heat. I was desperate for more. I didn’t care if she wasn’t ready to accept me. I didn’t care if anyone heard us. I only wanted to be inside her.

  I grabbed her hips and, with one quick thrust, drove into her, sheathing myself to the hilt. Scarlett’s head fell back as she held me there, deep inside her, gripped by those delicate walls. I could feel her quivering around me, feel her need buzzing in her blood.

  I yanked the neck of her tank top down, baring one breast. And when I latched on with my mouth to that straining peak, she cried out and began to ride me.

  I plumped her breast with one hand while I sucked hard, walking that fine line between pleasure and pain.

  She rode me with desperation, chasing down an orgasm that was just within her reach. I loved her like this. Reckless, out of her mind with desire for me. I wanted to take her over the edge into the abyss of pleasure. Her little whimpers were making my cock even harder.

  “Dev,” she whispered, pleaded. The sound of her ass meeting my thighs, damp slaps of flesh, nearly broke my mind. Everything about this woman was a fantasy of perfection. Except she was real. So real. I squeezed her breast, forcing her nipple further into my mouth, and lapped with my tongue.

  “I’m coming,” she hissed. I felt her explode around me. Hot, wet squeezes gripped my aching dick like strong fingers. Scarlett stopped breathing and rode me. Hard. I didn’t want to come yet. I didn’t want this to be over as quickly as it started, but her pussy gripped me, and it took every ounce of my focus not to come right then and there.

  “Damn it, Scarlett,” I groaned. She rode me relentlessly, and her orgasm flowed through her until finally she was spent, collapsing against my chest. I held her to me, locked in my arms as the climax that had threatened to kill me slowly receded to the wings.

  I thought that I could just hold her like this forever. Wrapped around each other, sated and still hungry. But then she was pushing away from me and climbing off my lap.

  My cock slid out of her regretfully.

  “Where are you going?” I demanded.

  “Right here.” She sank between my open knees and dragged the condom off of my shaft. “I want to see you come.”

  And just like that, my orgasm was back, demanding me to find it. She used both hands on me, her breast still bare. And when she leaned forward to flick her tongue over my crown, I’d never seen anything like it. I was there, on the edge already.

  She watched my crown in glee as clear liquid beaded at the tip. “You like this, don’t you Dev?” she whispered, pumping my cock harder.

  I wanted to close my eyes, to give myself over to the climax she was milking out of me, but I didn’t want to miss a second of those hungry gray eyes, the way her rosy lips parted when she felt me pulse against her.

  “You’re going to come for me, and I’m going to watch,” she said, licking her lips. She brushed her thumbs over my balls, and that was it. I was coming. We both watched, hypnotized as the first thick rope of my release wrenched itself free, landing across my stomach. I gritted my teeth together but couldn’t quite cover the grunt of satisfaction, of relief. The next one reached my chest and glistened in the dim light from inside.

  Scarlett worked my dick with her small, strong hands, pumping me until every drop I’d been holding back lay patterned across my abs and chest. Only then did I drop my head back against the chair. Only then did I start to breathe again.

  “That was fucking awesome,” Scarlett said with satisfaction, her head resting on my thigh. With the last of my energy, I stroked her hair and started planning the best way to convince her to give us a real shot.

  38

  Devlin

  I dumped my contribution to dinner—one of those large bagged salad kits— into a mixing bowl on the island. I could smell the sizzle of steaks on the grill out on the deck, hear the murmur of conversation. We’d invited the Bodines over for a cookout. Even Gibson had reluctantly come. Scarlett wasn’t here yet. She’d been called in to help a plumber friend handle a drainage emergency at a rental property.

  Gibson and Scarlett had yet to patch things up, and I hoped that a cookout on neutral ground would pave the way.

  I heard a car in the driveway and felt my heart lift. Just the anticipation of seeing Scarlett made me happy. Ever since our trip to Annapolis, I’d been thinking seriously about the future, and
I knew one thing. I wanted Scarlett in mine.

  I heard the knock at the front door and frowned. Scarlett wasn’t a knocker. None of the Bodines were. They either pushed right through your unlocked doors or made themselves at home in your yard and on your deck. It was the Bootleg way.

  Maybe it was Millie Waggle with another delectable baked good. The woman could perform miracles with flour and cocoa. I think she had a secret crush on Jonah, and I was happy to encourage it if it meant I got to enjoy homemade pies and sticky buns and cookies.

  I wiped my hands on the dishtowel, shoved the salad into the fridge, and headed toward the front of the house.

  It was not Millie Waggle standing on my doorstep. It was Johanna.

  I blinked, not believing my eyes. It had been long enough since I’d seen her last. I’d already forgotten little details about her. The beauty mark at the side of her mouth. The pearly pink lipstick she was never without, even though I’d preferred to kiss her without it.

  She was tall and slim, bordering on too thin, I realized. She exercised ruthlessly and managed her diet with the focus of a general at war. Her blonde hair was swept back into a low roll at the base of her neck. She wore a sleeveless sheath dress in dove gray and a string of pearls around her neck that matched the studs in her ears. It was her “casual” wardrobe.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded, not quite trusting my voice. The woman before me had once shared my life, my bed, my goals. Now, she was a stranger.

  “Devlin,” she said with a soft smile. “So good to see you. I’d like to come in.”

  “I have company,” I told her. My brain was still shocked at seeing her on my doorstep and didn’t form the “get the hell out” that I felt she deserved.

  She cocked her head to the side, still smiling wanly. “It’s important,” she insisted.

  I should have slammed the damn door in her damn face and joined the party on the deck, but decades of etiquette training and social graces wouldn’t let me. I held the door open, and she walked inside.