Sidecar Crush (Bootleg Springs Book 2)

by Claire Kingsley

  I half-expected Sonny to throw us all out and ban us from coming back. Instead, he put his hands on his hips and shook his head.

  “Tell you what,” Sonny said. “Y’all make sure the Cock Spurs win next time you play the Perrinville Bootleggers. Those filthy buggers had no right using Bootleggers as their mascot. You win, we’re even. If not, we’ll work something out.”

  “Sounds fair.” Bowie shook his hand.

  Sonny went back out to the front. I’d avoided Gibson during clean-up, and he left first, sparing me the need to say anything to him. Leah Mae gave me a sympathetic smile when I grabbed my jacket and headed toward the door. I didn’t know what money was mine, and I didn’t much care. I just wanted to get out of there and be done with it.

  Thankfully, Scarlett didn’t try to interrogate me. Just patted me on the arm before I left. I followed Leah Mae out and we got in my truck. Drove silently back to my place.

  Under different circumstances, I’d have been laughing over it all. A bunch of grown men throwing food at each other. Certainly wasn’t the first food fight that had broken out between the Bodine brothers. But I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. The weight of everything was heavy on my shoulders. The gossip. My dad. Callie Kendall. My sculpture. Fighting with Gibs just made everything worse.

  And Leah Mae. She was my refuge, yet there were still unanswered questions between us. Was she going to stay in Bootleg Springs? Was she making plans to go? I knew she wasn’t moving back to L.A., but where was she going next? Was this just a stopover while she figured things out? Was I just a distraction? I wasn’t sure.

  All I knew was that I didn’t want to talk about it tonight. We got back to my place and I cleaned up. We curled up on the couch together to watch TV. Later, I took out some of my pent-up aggression on her, in ways she liked quite a lot. Fell asleep with her in my arms, exhausted and drifting in the scent of her…

  …with a hint of guacamole.

  28

  Jameson

  Avoiding Gibson was easy, with Leah Mae staying with me and plenty of reasons to not go out. Truth be told, I avoided all my siblings. Even Jonah. He was around, as roommates generally are, but he had a lot of clients in town now, so that kept him busy. Leah Mae visited her dad, and I spent time in my workshop.

  Then, about a week after the taco fight, she dropped a bomb on me.

  “I have to go to L.A. next week,” she said, her voice casual, like that wasn’t big news.

  We were sitting out on the back porch while the sun went down, sipping some apple pie moonshine. I had on a thick flannel over my t-shirt to keep off the chilly September air, and she was wrapped in a light gray sweater, her cowboy boots dangling over the side of the wooden deck chair.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?” I asked.

  “The show’s final episode airs next week, so we’re all supposed to go to this big end-of-season party,” she said.

  “Is the media going to be there?”

  She nodded. “They will be at the beginning. They’ll want to take pictures and do interviews. Then they’ll have a private party afterward.”

  “How long have you known about this?”

  “A while,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to go, but I should. It’s in my contract. Plus, it would feel like admitting defeat if I didn’t.”

  “Makes sense. Is this a social type thing? Like where people bring dates?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good,” I said. “Then I’m comin’.”

  She swung her legs around so she was sitting upright in her chair. “Jameson, I can’t ask you to do that. It’s going to be crazy. All these cameras and people shoving microphones in your face—you’d be miserable.”

  “Darlin’, last I checked, my balls are still in place,” I said. “A man does what needs to be done, even if it’s outside his comfort zone. I’d never let you face that shitshow by yourself. Of course I’m going with you.”

  “That would make it a lot easier.”

  I shifted forward in my seat and leaned closer so I could tuck her hair behind her ear. “That’s exactly why I’m going.”

  She smiled and pressed her lips to mine. I kissed her back, softly. I wasn’t surprised she’d assumed I wouldn’t be willing to go with her. Took a man to stand up and do what was necessary. Last guy she’d been with hadn’t been much of one. She wasn’t used to someone standing by her side when things got tough.

  “You didn’t need to keep this to yourself,” I said, touching her face with the backs of my fingers. “Next time, let me know. I love you, Leah Mae. I’ll walk through hell and shake hands with the devil himself if you need me to.”

  Not that I was thrilled with the prospect—of the devil, or this party. A studio event in Los Angeles sounded about as far outside my realm of experience as you could get. And the media being there? Hell, it was liable to be a disaster. But I still wasn’t going to let her face that disaster by herself.

  But I wasn’t too proud to get a little advice on the matter. So the next day when Scarlett asked me to swing by and help her with a few things at Dad’s old place, I thought I might mention it. See if she had anything to say. Trouble was, conversations where things like feelings were going to be front and center were about as easy for me to face as a crowd of people wanting to hear me speak.

  Scarlett was ripping up the linoleum in the kitchen when I arrived. I’d brought work gloves, so I put them on and without a word, got down to helping her.

  We worked for a while, with Scarlett doing most of the talking. She’d recently had brunch with Devlin’s parents, and it had gone well. Seemed she’d been her usual sassy self, rolling over them like a tornado in a trailer park.

  She stood and brushed her gloved hands together. Her hair was in a ponytail and she wore a dusty t-shirt, jeans with holes in the knees, and a pair of brown work boots.

  “Not bad for an afternoon’s work. Thanks, Jame.”

  “Anytime,” I said. “Sounds like things with Dev are goin’ all right.”

  “Yeah,” she said with a smile, her eyes sparkling. “They sure are.”

  “Good.”

  I rubbed my neck and glanced away, not sure how to bring up the trip to L.A. Seemed like a simple thing—nothing I should get nervous about. But it wasn’t travel tips I was looking for. And I had no idea how to start a conversation about my relationship. Or how I was feeling about it all.

  “Everything all right?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  She laughed. “Jameson Bodine, you act like I’m not your sister who can read you like… well, like a book or a magazine or just about anything. What’s wrong?”

  “It’s not that something is wrong,” I said.

  “Okay, what then?”

  I shrugged. “Well, Leah Mae has to go to a studio party in L.A. next week.”

  “That doesn’t sound like much fun.”

  “No, not especially,” I said. “I’m going with her.”

  She grinned at me. “Course you are. You worried about what to wear or something?”

  I paused and blinked at her a few times. “Well shit, Scar, I hadn’t thought to worry about that, but now that you mention it…”

  “Leah Mae will help you with that,” she said. “Or Devlin knows all about dressin’ up. You can ask him.”

  “Thanks.”

  She took off her gloves and tossed them on the dusty counter. “So are you going to keep making me pry this out of you? Because I have a lot more work to do today.”

  I put my hands on my hips and looked down. “It’s just that… I’m not sure how this is going to go. I’ll face the cameras or whatever I have to do. That’s fine. But this is her world I’m steppin’ into. A man’s supposed to lead in a dance, not follow.”

  “Good thing it’s not really a dance,” she said.

  “It’s a metaphor.”

  She laughed. “I know, and I hear what you’re saying. Look, I can’t speak to being the man in this scenario. But I
can tell you I’ve been in your shoes. I had to go to that charity barbecue with Dev and it was like being on an alien planet—one where the natives were hostile toward visitors.”

  “I’d imagine that wasn’t easy,” I said.

  “Actually, it was pretty great,” she said. “I understood Devlin a lot better after seeing that side of things for myself. It helped me see where he’d come from. I think it did a lot for our relationship.”

  “So, you mean, getting out of your element and into his was a good thing.”

  “Absolutely,” she said. “It’ll be good for you and Leah Mae, too. Think of it as a chance to show her off to the world. She’ll be perched on your arm, lookin’ all sexy in a fancy dress. You’ll be there to make sure she can hold her head high and look all those assholes in the eye.”

  “That’s exactly why I’m going.”

  “Then what are you so worried about?” she asked. “You’ve got this.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, I reckon.”

  “God, Jameson, I don’t think you realize just how adorable you actually are,” she said. “All those Hollywood people are going to eat you up with a spoon.”

  I wasn’t sure about all that. But supporting Leah Mae—backing her up so she could face a tough situation—that I knew I could do. And maybe Scarlett was right. Maybe it would be good for us, like it had been good for them. I certainly hoped so. As strong as my feelings were for Leah Mae, there were still a lot of unknowns. And I wasn’t sure how much more pressure the two of us could take.

  29

  Leah Mae

  There was something about a man with manners.

  Jameson Bodine left a trail of melted panties from the mountains of West Virginia all the way to sunny California. From the ticketing agents, to the waitress in the airport restaurant, to the flight attendants on our cross-country flight, to the hotel staff in L.A. He said pardon me, and please, and thank you ma’am in that adorable Appalachian drawl. Tipped his hat. Gave them his boyish grin. Didn’t want to trouble anyone for anything, but sure was grateful for it all, even when they were just doing their jobs.

  I caught at least half a dozen women watching him with dreamy eyes. The flight attendants fawned over him. The waitress at the airport looked like she would have slipped him her number if I hadn’t been there.

  The farther we got from Bootleg Springs, the more pronounced the Jameson effect became. The woman who checked us in at the hotel fanned herself—actually fanned herself—as soon as he started talking.

  Maybe some women would be jealous of their boyfriend getting so much attention from other women. Not me. I loved it. It wasn’t that I needed other women noticing him to realize what I had. It was just so adorable. He clearly had no idea the effect he had on women. I was sure that to him, he was just being polite. He didn’t seem to notice their reactions at all.

  And yes, I did indulge in a little satisfaction over knowing he was mine. Besides, I could hardly blame them. I found him irresistible, too. I was just the lucky girl who got to keep him.

  “The hotel’s nice, at least.” He put our bags down and surveyed the room, his hands on his hips, a battered ball cap on his head. “I reckon we’ll be comfortable.”

  Our room wasn’t fancy, but it did have a big king-sized bed with a fluffy white comforter. I kicked off my shoes and hung up my garment bag with my dress for tomorrow night.

  It was strange being back in L.A. From the moment we’d walked off the plane, I’d felt odd. I’d been hiding away from the outside world while I was in Bootleg Springs, and here I was, smack in the middle of it again. I felt like a different person from the woman who’d been living here with Kelvin Graham. Leah Larkin had been convinced she wanted to be famous. She’d clung to a little girl’s dream long past the time she should have moved on.

  Going home to Bootleg Springs had opened my eyes. It had reminded me of who I was—who I’d been before agents and managers and fashion clients had told me who to be. And that girl—Leah Mae—knew there was a better life for her out there somewhere. And it wasn’t chasing fame in Hollywood.

  I had no qualms about walking away from this place—this life. Leaving L.A. for good and finding a new dream. The problem was, I still didn’t know where I was going. Back to Bootleg Springs? To do what? I couldn’t very well just live in Scarlett’s cabin, date Jameson, and do nothing else. I’d run out of money, for one. I’d earned a good living as a model, but my lifestyle with Kelvin had been expensive. I certainly hadn’t earned enough to retire at twenty-eight. And I had my dad to think about. He was getting better, but I wanted to be able to help him financially if he did get sick again.

  It wasn’t just the money. I needed something—a vocation or a career. I needed to be productive. Have purpose to my life outside of the man I was dating.

  I was still adrift, floating in a sea of indecision and uncertainty. I’d taken aptitude tests and career path quizzes. I had interests, and ideas, but I still felt like I didn’t know what to do with the rest of my life. And how that life could be lived in Bootleg Springs.

  I loved Bootleg. It was home in a way no other place in the world would ever be. But jobs in a small town were scarce. It had been easy to get lost in Jameson, and in Bootleg’s magic. Where time seemed to move slowly, and the cares of the outside world weren’t so important. I’d indulged in that for too long now, and soon I’d need to make some hard choices.

  Jameson stretched out on the bed, and I hung his suit next to my dress. We’d gone into Perrinville to buy it a few days ago. Bootleg Springs didn’t exactly have a store with formal menswear. I almost hadn’t recognized him when he’d come out of the dressing room. It was the one good thing about this studio event. I was definitely looking forward to seeing him all dressed up. Jameson Bodine cleaned up good.

  Glancing over at him, I smiled. His ball cap had shifted partway down his forehead, almost covering his eyes, and he’d fallen asleep. I wasn’t surprised. It had been a long day.

  I climbed onto the bed next to him and got comfortable. I wasn’t sure how to properly express how much it meant to me that he was here. A part of me didn’t want to face tomorrow. I wanted to stay hidden—cozy up with Jameson in his bedroom and pretend the outside world didn’t exist. That I’d never done that stupid reality show, and no one believed I’d seduced Brock Winston and convinced him to cheat on his wife.

  But like I’d told Jameson, that would be admitting defeat. I needed to show my face. Smile for the cameras. Get through this one last obligation, and I could finally be free.

  Jameson’s chest rose and fell slowly. He looked so cute, lying there in his faded blue Support Local Farms t-shirt and worn jeans. He was about as out of place in L.A. as anyone could be. And it made me love him all the more.

  I shifted closer, and he reached out to wrap an arm around me—drew me against his chest. His body was relaxed and warm. I curled myself around him, nuzzling my face into his neck. The stubble on his jaw was pleasantly rough against my cheek and he smelled so good. I breathed him in as he traced gentle circles on my arm.

  My lips found the sensitive skin at his throat. The vibration of his low groan tickled, lighting little sparks that raced down my spine.

  His muscles flexed, and he pulled me on top of him. I took his hat off and tossed it on the floor. Those brilliant blue eyes took me in, devouring me with just a look. I loved seeing my desire for him reflected at me. It heightened my senses, awakening my body.

  Letting my legs slide down each side of his hips, I pressed myself into his growing erection. He took my mouth in a deep kiss, groaning as I rubbed against him. Our bodies moved together, slowly—grinding and rubbing. Intensifying our need for each other.

  I broke the kiss and crawled down his body. When I got to his waist, I pushed his shirt up, revealing the hard ridges of his abs. He groaned again as I ran my tongue along his skin.

  His belt buckle clinked as I unfastened it. I opened the top button of his jeans and lowered the zipper. He dragged hi
s teeth over his lower lip, watching me.

  “Darlin’, I like where this is going.”

  I licked my lips and smiled, then pulled his underwear down. His cock was thick and hard. I ran my tongue up his length, reveling in his sharp intake of breath. Grabbing him around the base, I licked him, paying special attention to the sensitive ridge around the tip. His eyes rolled back, and he groaned again.

  There was nothing like hearing him moan because of me. I took his cock into my mouth and moved slowly, teasing him. Gradually, I moved faster, plunging down, taking in as much as I could. I worked the shaft with my hand, letting the tip slide in and out of my mouth.

  He moved his hips and stroked my hair. I picked up the pace, squeezing the shaft while I drew his hard length in and out. His cock thickened, stiffening with his impending release. I tasted his flavor on my tongue.

  The feeling of his growing climax was intensely arousing. Pressure built between my legs, warm and insistent. My heart raced, and my cheeks flushed as I kept drawing his cock in and out of my wet mouth. Harder. Faster.

  “Baby, I’m almost there,” he said.

  His rough voice sent a thrill down my spine. He was breathless, losing control. His muscles flexed beneath me, his hips thrusting himself deeper. I moaned, feeling his cock begin to pulse.

  The first spurts of come hit the back of my throat and he groaned, a low sound that reverberated through me, setting me on fire. I took him all in, every last bit, reveling in the way it felt to give him this pleasure. I loved it. He was lost, his body stiff, jerking into me as the orgasm overtook him.

  When he finished, I slid his cock out of my mouth and quickly swallowed. He was breathing hard, his eyes glassy.

  “Good lord, baby,” he said between breaths. “That was unbelievable.”

  “I’m glad you liked it.”

  I adjusted his underwear and crawled back up his body. He rolled me onto my back and kissed me deeply, his tongue sweeping through my mouth with lazy strokes. My body trembled with a rush of anticipation as he slid one hand up my thigh, beneath my skirt. He nudged my legs open and stroked my clit with gentle fingers.