Bourbon Bliss: Bootleg Springs Book Four

by Kingsley, Claire

  By Sunday morning, the story was everywhere, all the way up to the national news.

  At first, reports were short and filled with disclaimers that they were following up on this breaking news story. Monday morning, the Kendall family released a brief statement, expressing their gratitude in having their daughter home, and asking for privacy for their family.

  Reporters, however, appeared to be intent on getting their story, regardless of requests for privacy. They’d no doubt camped outside the Kendall home in Richmond to get the few photos of her—mostly entering or exiting a vehicle—that began to circulate.

  The media descended on Bootleg Springs, too, although not in the numbers I’d expected. June said something cryptic about having dealt with those vultures. And I figured most reporters and bloggers would be trying to get more out of Callie and her family, not so much the residents of Bootleg Springs.

  By Wednesday, there didn’t seem to be a soul in Bootleg who wasn’t talking about the miraculous return of Callie Kendall. People put balloons and banners all over town. Tables were brought out, lining the sidewalks, and by lunchtime, they were filled with casseroles, platters, and piles of desserts. The mayor declared it a public holiday. The bank closed, as did the schools. Outside the Kendall house, people left flowers and tied balloons to the fence post.

  The residents of Bootleg bundled up against the cold and shared food and drinks with their neighbors. They toasted and hugged and reminisced and theorized. It was quite the sight. I texted Shelby some photos. She was disappointed she wasn’t here, but said she was happy for the town. We both were. Seeing the community come together like this restored my faith in humanity by quite a bit.

  The commotion settled down and after a few days, life seemed to go on as normal. I got together with Jonah Bodine to work out a few times. Soaked in one of the hot springs. Not the secret one. I still didn’t know how to get to the online sign-up form, and I didn’t want to get caught over there again. I turned down an invitation to a charity event in Pittsburgh—asked Andrea to send a donation instead.

  I chatted with locals. Had an impromptu drink at the Lookout with Bowie Bodine. Watched ESPN with June. Had her over to my place for a stay-in date night.

  All in all, I was settling into a routine here in Bootleg. I’d already stayed longer than I’d planned. I’d originally rented my place for two weeks, and I’d gone well beyond that now. I was doing things that felt suspiciously like putting down some roots. Shallow ones yet, but this had already become more than a vacation.

  I looked out the front room window of my rental. I had a partial view of the lake, obscured by some trees. The sky was gray, the water glassy and still. It was pretty out there. Calm and peaceful. Not for the first time, I thought about how much I liked this town.

  But it wasn’t just the town that I liked, and I knew that wasn’t the reason I’d stayed so long.

  I hadn’t counted on meeting someone out here in the mountains of West Virginia. I certainly hadn’t imagined I’d meet someone like June Tucker. How could I have? She was as unusual as the day was long, and damn it, I loved that about her.

  Sure, she was blunt and sometimes she looked at me like I baffled her. But her bluntness meant she wasn’t a bullshitter. I trusted her, and that wasn’t something that came easy to me. Not after ten years playing football, surrounded by groupies. Hell, the cleat chasers had started following me around in college, even before I was getting paid to catch a ball. I’d hated sitting across from a woman, wondering if there was any part of me she liked besides my fame and my money.

  There usually hadn’t been.

  I opened the refrigerator door and winced at the emptiness that greeted me. I had an almost-empty container of half-and-half, a few condiments, and a pepperoni roll I’d brought home yesterday.

  When I’d first arrived in Bootleg, I’d had a number of surprise visitors showing up at my door bearing casseroles and desserts. Between that and takeout, I’d kept myself well fed.

  However, supplies were running low, and my steady stream of neighbors who seemed interested in feeding me had dwindled. At home, Andrea had ordered my groceries for me. It had been easier that way. She knew my schedule, so she’d planned my meals, and made sure I had what I needed for the days I’d be in town. A part-time cook had prepared everything. I’d never needed to worry about making sure I had food around, just grabbed what was there and heated it up.

  Now that I wasn’t playing football—and I wasn’t home—I probably needed to start thinking about things like grocery shopping and meal planning.

  For now, I had one of Clarabell’s pepperoni rolls. I took it out and popped it in the microwave.

  Before I hit start, there was a knock on the front door. June poked her head in.

  “Hello,” she said. “Can I come in?”

  That girl. My blood ran a little hotter at just the sight of her face peeking inside.

  “Hey, June Bug. Come on in.”

  Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and she wore a gray cardigan over a white t-shirt and jeans. She held up a brown paper bag. “I brought food. I apologize for not calling or texting first. Perhaps you’ve already eaten. But Cassidy said I could be spontaneous if it included food.”

  “Your sister knows one of the primary ways to a man’s heart,” I said. “But you can stop by anytime, with or without a meal.”

  June smiled. Every time she did that, I wanted to do a touchdown dance. I already knew June didn’t give that smile to just anyone. I liked being the guy who got to enjoy it.

  I liked being the guy who got to enjoy her.

  She came into the kitchen and I took the bag, setting it down on the counter. I slipped my arms around her and pulled her close. Leaned down and found her lips with mine.

  Thoughts ran through my mind. Thoughts about June, and Bootleg, and maybe—just maybe—not going home to Philly anytime soon.

  But June and I hadn’t had that sort of conversation yet. We hadn’t put a label on this, and I wasn’t sure how she was feeling about us.

  I pulled away, keeping my arms around her waist. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Although it’s been less than twenty-four hours since we were together, I was feeling a strong desire to be in your presence.”

  I kissed the tip of her freckled nose. “You missed me.”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s true,” she said, as if the notion surprised her.

  Hell, maybe it did.

  I gave her another quick kiss and let go of her so I could pull out the food she’d brought. The smell made my stomach rumble.

  “What have you been up to today?” I asked as I fished out a container of mashed potatoes.

  June got plates out of the cupboard. I noticed she didn’t ask where they were—she’d made herself at home—and that little detail made me smile.

  “I worked until four. Then I had a meeting with Lula. She’s looking to expand her business.”

  “Are you helping her out?”

  She nodded, grabbing silverware out of a drawer. “I often invest in businesses in town. I make more money than I need for myself, and I have an understanding of financial matters that some small business owners lack. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

  “Sounds like it. What’s Lula’s business?”

  “She owns the best spa in town. I helped her with her business plan last year and the results were even better than projected. She’d like to reinvest the profits.”

  “That’s awesome.”

  We dished up our plates, heaping piles of mashed potatoes next to slices of fresh-made meatloaf. June poured gravy from a small container over my potatoes, then hers. Then we took our meals to the kitchen table.

  “How many businesses have you invested in?” I asked.

  She slid a bite of mashed potatoes into her mouth and swallowed before answering. “Seventeen. Jameson Bodine’s girlfriend, Leah Mae Larkin, is the most recent. She’s opening a clothing boutique. I secured an excellent
rental rate on the storefront. What about you? How do you invest the income you earned playing football?”

  “My assistant Andrea handles that for me.”

  June raised her eyebrows. “Does she? Is she a qualified financial planner?”

  “Qualified enough for me. She’s worked for me for years.”

  “Interesting,” she said and took another bite. “What sorts of investments do you have?”

  I shrugged, letting a spoonful of gravy-smothered potatoes melt in my mouth. “A variety of things, I think. Mutual funds and so forth. I think there’s some real estate in there.”

  “You think?”

  “Andrea has a handle on it. I pay her very well to take care of things for me.”

  “I read that it’s very common for football players to struggle financially after retirement,” she said. “Are you careless with your money?”

  June’s bluntness didn’t faze me. It was an honest question, and at least part of me hoped she was fishing for information because she was sizing me up as a potential boyfriend. “The truth? I was very careless with money my first few years in the league. I was young and went from having not much to having a hell of a lot pretty much overnight. Blew a lot of money on stupid shit. I’m not proud of that.”

  She took another bite and nodded.

  “I got my act together, though. Not all guys do. In fact, I’d venture to guess most of them don’t. Especially the ones who stay single. I noticed the guys who seemed steadiest had wives or long-term girlfriends. I think the ones who found a good woman had an easier time being responsible with their money.”

  “Statistics are clear. Married men live longer than single men.”

  I gestured with my fork. “Indeed they do.”

  “But you didn’t get married. Did you have a long-term girlfriend who helped… steady you?”

  I heard the hitch in her voice, and maybe it made me a bad person, but I liked the idea of June feeling jealous over me.

  “No, not really. I dated the same woman off and on for a few years, but she wasn’t good for my bottom line. The opposite, actually. Keeping her happy was expensive.”

  She scrunched her cute little nose. “That doesn’t sound like the basis for a good relationship.”

  “It wasn’t. No, I didn’t have a woman to keep me in line, but I did see some things that made me think hard about how I was living. Three years into the league, I was playing alongside Braden Santori in Seattle.”

  “That was the year you had one hundred thirty-seven receptions.”

  I grinned at that. “Sure was. It was also the year that Braden had a career-ending injury. We were the same age, drafted at the same time. Neither of us were living like football was a short-term career. But there he was, suddenly out of a job. He didn’t handle it too well.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “Less than a year later, he was out of money. He’d bought a fancy condo and a big mansion for his mom. New cars for himself and his family. His heart was in the right place, but without his football salary, he couldn’t afford all the payments. Poor guy was twenty-five years old and he’d gone from being a millionaire to declaring bankruptcy.”

  “That’s quite the change.”

  “Yep. I saw that happen to him and it made me take stock of my own life. And my money. I hadn’t saddled myself with as much debt as he had, but I was living like money didn’t matter.”

  “Is that when you hired Andrea?”

  “She came on board a little later, but more or less, yeah.” I took another bite and looked down at my now-empty plate. “Thanks again for the food. I’m not sure where all mine went, but it was delicious.”

  June grinned. “You ate that very fast.”

  “It was so good, once I started I couldn’t stop.” I winked.

  Her cheeks flushed a light shade of pink. I couldn’t help but think about that blush creeping down her neck to her tits. My dick swelled and I was glad I was wearing sweats.

  I half-expected her to comment on my thinly veiled innuendo, but she didn’t. She blinked at me a few times and went back to her dinner.

  “So, June Bug, I’ve been thinking about something. I wanted to run it by you.”

  “Yes?”

  “I think we’d both agree we like seeing each other.”

  “I would agree with that statement, yes.”

  “Good. Seeing as how I’m no longer playing football, I find myself with quite a bit of freedom for the foreseeable future. Especially when it comes to where I live.”

  “That makes sense. Particularly if you’re financially stable.”

  “Right, exactly. And I was thinking that instead of going home to Philly, maybe I’d stay here in Bootleg for a while.”

  “Stay here?” She put her fork down. “I don’t know why I repeated that as a question. I heard you quite clearly.”

  “Maybe because what I said surprised you.”

  “That is accurate, yes.”

  “So… what do you think?”

  She looked down at her plate, her expression unreadable. I could practically see the wheels in her head turning as she pondered my question. As much as I wanted an enthusiastic yes out of her, seeing her consider my suggestion felt good. I liked that she was taking me seriously.

  “Yes,” she said, looking up to meet my gaze. “The question of whether or not you’d remain in Bootleg has been weighing on my mind. I would very much like it if you stayed.”

  I reached across the table and took her hand—squeezed it, then idly rubbed my thumb across her knuckles. “Good. Then I will. I need to call Andrea and have her bring Mellow out here.”

  “Mellow?”

  “She’s my bunny. I didn’t tell you about my little Marshmellow?”

  “Do you spell it with an a or an e?”

  “An e, even though I know it’s not the proper spelling.”

  She shrugged. “It’s a name. I’ll allow it.”

  “Well thank you very much, Miss Dictionary.”

  “I’m not a dictionary, and that sounds like a mockery of a beauty queen title.”

  I laughed, which made her laugh. I squeezed her hand again. “I was just teasing. But I am serious about bringing Mellow out here. I miss my little furball.”

  Her brow furrowed slightly. “George, does bringing your bunny to live here with you in Bootleg Springs mean you and I are officially in a romantic relationship?”

  I hesitated for a beat, about to say I’d like to think so. But I knew June preferred it when I was straightforward. “Yes, it does.”

  That smile of hers lit up her eyes. “Okay. I like that too.”

  “Me too, June Bug. Me too.”

  14

  June

  Word spread like wildfire in Bootleg Springs. Whether it was good news or bad, nothing stayed quiet for long. Not unless we were all in agreement that we needed to keep our mouths shut, or that one of our own needed protecting. But idle gossip, particularly where anyone’s love life was concerned, was fair game.

  Within a day of George deciding to stay in Bootleg I found myself at the heart of the second-biggest story in town. The first, of course, was still the reappearance of Callie Kendall. But talk of the famous football player courting June Tucker had tongues running a mile a minute.

  I wasn’t accustomed to being the center of so much gossipy attention. When I’d come up with the plan to get rid of the media by spreading a false story, I’d received my share of pats on the back, nods, and hat tips. But we’d been keeping that quiet, so the praise had been subtle—the way I preferred.

  This was different. Aside from an unfortunate stint with Hank Preston in high school, I’d never dated someone in town. I’d always kept my romantic interests—such as they were—quite separate from my community. And most people in town seemed to have decided I was destined to be single forever. It was never my name being paired up with someone in the paper. No speculation as to who would show up and sweep June Tucker off her feet.

&nbs
p; People had talked about Cassidy and Bowie, especially when word got out that they’d been dating in secret. Jameson had declared his intentions with Leah Mae for the whole town to see by stopping his truck in the middle of the street to kiss her. That had certainly generated a number of conversations. Scarlett had caused a stir when she’d started seeing Devlin. But Scarlett caused a stir all the time, so that hadn’t been unusual.

  None of that had ever spilled over to me. I’d always been on the sidelines, quietly observing. Now the talk was about me, and it was weird.

  I’d been seen with George already. We’d danced at the Lookout, and shared meals at Moonshine. But something about the news that he had decided to stay in Bootleg Springs had set off the gossip wagon. Now it was rolling down the street right through the middle of town. On fire.

  I ignored the look Sierra Hayes gave me as I walked to the Bootleg Springs Spa. She glanced around as if wondering why I was out and about alone now that I was part of a couple. If she had asked, I would simply have told her that George was with the Bodine men.

  Bowie had invited George to hang out with him and his brothers—and future brother-in-law, but I tended to think of Devlin as one of the Bodines now, despite his having a different last name. They were a unit, and they’d assimilated Devlin into their clan. I wasn’t sure what their planned activities entailed. Bowie had deflected by saying man stuff. That sounded to me like watching sports, which was something I would have liked to be included in.

  But I understood the concept of male bonding—in theory, at least—and Cassidy had invited me for a spa day. Spa treatments had numerous health benefits, and Lula ran the best spa in town.

  And I had to admit, Lula’s treatments did make my skin look very soft and… touchable. It wouldn’t be terrible if it made George more interested in touching me.

  I was the only one precisely on time, so I waited in the lobby, thumbing through a magazine I’d brought with me. Lula’s waiting area was decorated with soft colors, wispy curtains, and comfortable furniture. Quiet music played in the background—something instrumental and soothing. A hint of citrus hung in the air—just enough to make it smell fresh, yet calming.