Bourbon Bliss: Bootleg Springs Book Four

by Kingsley, Claire

  Leah Mae arrived, and a few minutes later, Cassidy and Scarlett. When our little group was all accounted for, Lula took us back. We donned fluffy bathrobes in the changing room and took our places in the treatment room.

  The air was warmer here, but dressed in just a robe, I was comfortable. I took a seat in a reclining chair, put my feet up, and pulled out my magazine.

  “Maybe we should go visit her,” Scarlett said out of the blue.

  Cassidy settled into a chair. “Who?”

  “Callie Kendall,” Scarlett said. “I can’t stop thinking about her.”

  “Same here,” Leah Mae said. She twisted her long blond hair into a bun and wrapped a hair tie around it. “Her disappearance was one of the defining moments of my life. It seemed like everything changed after that. And now it’s just… over.”

  “Exactly,” Scarlett said. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

  “I’m not sure what to think, either,” Cassidy said. “Seems like we should give them privacy, though. It’s not like any of us knew her all that well. Unless you did, Leah Mae.”

  “Not really,” Leah Mae said. “We were in the same grade, but I mostly hung out with Jameson when I was here summers. I didn’t run around with Callie all that much.”

  “Did anyone know about her guy?” Scarlett asked. “Because I sure as hell didn’t. Not that I would have. I probably seemed more like a little tag-along kid to her, not someone she’d confide in.”

  “I didn’t know, either,” Cassidy said.

  Leah Mae shook her head. “Me neither.”

  Callie was my age, as well, just like Leah Mae. But none of them looked to me to ask if Callie had shared her secret boyfriend with me. I’d socialized because Cassidy had insisted, more than because I’d wanted to—especially back in high school. I’d never sought out friendships with the other girls my age. They were fine—girls like Callie Kendall and Leah Mae Larkin had always been nice to me—but I didn’t have the need for a best friend or a squad, as they said. I’d had my parents and my sister, and by extension I’d had Scarlett. All the Bodines, really. They’d always been enough. More than enough, sometimes.

  “I guess it goes to show, you never know what’s going on behind closed doors,” Cassidy said. “People can hide all sorts of things, if they have a mind to.”

  “Maybe all that stuff about her being troubled and depressed was true,” Scarlett said. “Her parents kept insisting on it. I suppose they’d have known. We only saw her summers, and some holidays. They were with her day in, day out. Maybe that had something to do with why she ran away.”

  “She could have been hiding all sorts of things from the rest of us,” Leah Mae said.

  I didn’t have a hard time believing that Callie Kendall had disappeared because she’d run off with a man she’d met online. I hadn’t known Callie well enough to judge whether that was consistent with her character. But I’d seen many of the girls I knew make bad decisions when it came to men. A teenage girl getting caught up with a guy who turned out to be trouble was common. Even I hadn’t been immune to that.

  That wasn’t what was tickling the back of my mind every time I thought about Callie. Something was; I’d just been too distracted by George to put much thought into it.

  “Something about her story seemed off,” I said.

  “You think?” Scarlett asked. “What part?”

  “I haven’t figured it out yet. I’ve had my mind on other things.”

  “Like your big sexy boyfriend,” Scarlett said.

  My cheeks warmed and I kept my eyes firmly on the pages of my magazine.

  “Lordy, June Bug, seeing you blush over a guy is both bizarre and adorable,” Scarlett said. “You really like him, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. I wouldn’t be dating him otherwise.” I flipped the page, trying to keep my voice passive. But a flare of excitement bubbled up inside me. “He’s having his pet rabbit brought to Bootleg in a few days.”

  “He’s introducing you to his bunny?” Scarlett asked. “Things really are getting serious.”

  “Was that sarcasm?” I asked. I didn’t usually understand sarcasm.

  “No, I’m being serious,” Scarlett said.

  “I think it’s cute,” Cassidy said. “Daddy likes him, too. And not just because he’s a football player.”

  “Was,” I corrected. “He’s no longer playing professional football.”

  “How’s he doing with that?” Leah Mae asked. “Is he having a hard time adjusting?”

  “He’s doing well. George is…” I paused, thinking about my answer. “He’s a relaxed sort of person. It’s one of the things I admire about him. He thinks things through and doesn’t get worked up if it isn’t necessary. He knew his career was coming to an end, and he accepted the change in his employment with a great deal of aplomb.”

  “Good for him,” Leah Mae said.

  “Hmm,” Scarlett said. “Sounds kinda boring. No offense intended, Juney.”

  “Oh, he’s not the least bit boring,” I said. “He’s extremely interesting and intelligent.”

  “Guess there’s more to him than football,” Cassidy said.

  I wasn’t good at reading people, but I could see the warmth in Cassidy’s eyes when she smiled at me. She was being genuine.

  “Yes, that’s correct. There is a lot more to him.”

  The conversation moved on to other topics as we got our facials and massages. I listened idly, adding a comment or two when I felt I had something to say.

  Strangely, I wanted to keep talking. About George, specifically, but I didn’t find room in the conversation to interject. And it wasn’t his stats that sat on the tip of my tongue. He was so much more than his numbers. I could have talked about the conversations we’d had. The way his huge hands felt when they enveloped mine. I could have told them any number of things that had nothing to do with football, or statistics.

  When we finished, we all got dressed and headed outside. Cassidy had a text from Bowie.

  “He says they’re down at the lake.” She frowned at her phone. “What are they doing down there? I thought they’d be at the Lookout or something.”

  “Didn’t they go to Build-A-Shine?” Leah Mae asked.

  “Cass, why is Tom Hammond’s trebuchet down there?” Scarlett asked, pointing toward the beach.

  From here, we had a clear view straight down to the beach. And sitting there at the water’s edge was the trebuchet Tom Hammond had built. I’d seen it in action plenty of times. All of Bootleg had turned out for its inaugural toss and since then, he’d launched all sorts of things across his field.

  “Oh my god, they can’t be,” Cassidy said.

  Scarlett’s mouth hung open. “I think they are.”

  “They wouldn’t… would they?” Leah Mae asked.

  “It makes some sense,” Cassidy said. “He is too big, even for all of them.”

  I squinted, trying to see what was going on at the lake. “What are you talking about?”

  “Let’s go,” Cassidy said.

  We raced down the street with Scarlett leading the way. The cool air stung my cheeks, my skin sensitive after the facial.

  The Bodine men were indeed standing around the big wooden structure. It was on wheels and could be pulled by a tractor, but why had Tom Hammond brought it down here?

  And where was George?

  My second question was answered when George staggered out from behind one of the wooden supports. He splayed his big hand against the side of the trebuchet and leaned against it, like he was having trouble holding himself up. He had a mason jar in his other hand, and by the expression on his face and the way he leaned to the side, I could tell he’d had his fair share of moonshine.

  Bowie slapped him on the shoulder and took the drink out of his hand.

  Scarlett stopped at the edge of the sand and flung her arms wide to keep the rest of us from passing her. “Best to just let it happen.”

  Bowie leaned closer
to George as he set down the mason jar and said something too quietly for me to hear. Both men laughed. I narrowed my eyes. Bowie was suspiciously steady on his feet. He was a Bootlegger through and through, so of course the man could hold his liquor. Maybe George had just gotten a little carried away and Bowie hadn’t.

  “Now!” Bowie shouted.

  Gibson, Jonah, Jameson, and Devlin all raced to George, letting their drinks drop to the ground. They grabbed him by the arms and legs while Gibson pushed against his shoulders from behind.

  “What’s goin’ on?” George asked, his words slurring.

  They muscled him closer to the replica siege engine and Gibson fastened what looked like a harness onto him.

  “Hold still, big guy,” Bowie said, his voice strained.

  George tilted to the left. “What’re you doing?”

  “He secure, Gibs?” Bowie asked.

  Gibson pulled on a strap. “He’s good.”

  Jameson let go and grabbed a white motorcycle helmet, then forced it down over George’s head while the rest of the men held him still.

  “What are they doing?” I asked.

  “What is this?” George asked, making a half-hearted attempt to grab the helmet. Gibson and Jameson held his arms down.

  “Ordinarily, we’d just toss your ass in the lake,” Bowie said. “It’s a thing that needs to happen if you’re going to be courtin’ June. I’m sure you understand. But you’re too damn big. We didn’t think we could get you down the dock, let alone pick you up to toss you in. So we came up with an alternative.”

  “Cassidy, what are they doing?” I asked again, my sense of alarm increasing.

  “Tossing him in the lake.” Cassidy’s voice was very matter-of-fact.

  “That’s not tossing,” I said. “That machine is going to launch him into the lake.”

  “Sure is,” Scarlett said.

  Leah Mae covered her mouth with her hand, and her eyes widened.

  “Lie down, now,” Bowie was saying to George. “Good. Come on. All the way.”

  “But…” I sputtered, struggling to get any words out. “But… why?”

  Cassidy turned to me. “Because, Juney. He made his intentions with you known. That means the Bodines have to dunk him in the lake. It’s what they do.”

  “They did it to Dev,” Scarlett said. “Right off my dock.”

  “But I’m not… He’s not… I don’t understand.” An odd sense of warmth spread through my chest and up my throat. “They’re doing that for me?”

  George was lying down—or at least, on his back beneath the large arm of the trebuchet. The Bodines were still holding him down.

  “You bet they are,” Cassidy said.

  The ridiculousness of what I was seeing seemed to fade, replaced by a simple realization. The Bodines were throwing George in the lake because he wanted to date me.

  I hadn’t been this happy since George said he wanted me to meet his rabbit.

  “We ready?” Tom stepped up, ready to release the rope.

  “This is surprisingly elaborate,” I said, more to myself than anyone else nearby.

  “They’ve outdone themselves with this one,” Cassidy said.

  “Go!”

  The shout came from several of the Bodies—I wasn’t sure which—and the men all jumped back. Tom released the rope, the weight on one end went down, and George went up.

  And up.

  And over.

  George yelled as he flew through the air in a tall arc. The trajectory was impressive. The men all cheered as he fell, whooping and hollering and high fiving.

  “Wait,” I shouted, fear making my heart race. “Is he intoxicated? He’ll drown!”

  “Don’t worry, Juney, we already thought of that,” Jameson hollered back. “Nash and Buck are both out there in boats, ready to rescue him.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Gibson said, flashing me a rare smile.

  George hit the water with a splash and the cheers resumed. I raced down to the edge of the lake, and sure enough, Nash and Buck were both rowing toward the figure bobbing in the water.

  His white helmet was visible; he was probably fine.

  15

  June

  The trebuchet became a Bootleg lakefront phenomenon—for the rest of the afternoon, at least. A steady stream of people lined up, the cold be damned, to take a turn—until Freddy Sleeth belly-flopped so hard he came out with two black eyes and a broken nose. Then my dad and Mayor Hornsbladt declared it too dangerous for human projectiles and made Tom take it back to his place.

  A procession of mourners followed his tractor as Tom towed it back to the Hammond Farm. It looked like a funeral march. Men removed their hats out of respect. Tom managed to turn everything around that night by throwing a big bonfire and launching an old Volkswagen Beetle across his field.

  George had not only survived the inaugural lake launch, he’d become even more of a celebrity for it. The story grew in the telling, and within a few days, people were saying he’d been thrown clear to the far bank. Some had him skipping across the surface like a rock. Still others said he’d sliced into the water like an Olympic diver, barely making a splash.

  The truth was, he’d come out of the water disoriented, but sober as an entire church choir. And he flinched whenever any of the Bodines got near him.

  What he didn’t realize was that he was one of us now. He wouldn’t get launched into the lake again, as long as he didn’t do anything to hurt me. Which was such a strange and archaic thing, I couldn’t understand why it made me so happy. What business was it of theirs who I dated, or how our relationship turned out?

  For once in my life, I didn’t overthink it. This was Bootleg Springs. It was how we did things.

  George called the next Friday morning to let me know his assistant, Andrea Wilson, was driving out to Bootleg that afternoon with his pet rabbit. That made me inexplicably happy as well. Although it was clear to me the ideal pet was a pot-bellied pig—for a variety of reasons—George’s rabbit was obviously important to him. And his excitement over seeing his small mammal, and introducing me to her, was infectious.

  In other words, I was excited too.

  A silver SUV was parked outside his rental when I arrived. I went to the front door and knocked.

  “Hey, June Bug.” He pulled me inside, his hands around my waist, and leaned down for a kiss.

  I completely forgot about the fact that someone else was here. George kissing me had a tendency to make my mind go blank. But the sound of a throat clearing made me jump.

  George appeared nonplussed. He grinned at me, then led me inside, his hand on the small of my back. “Perfect timing. Andrea just got here. Andrea, this is June Tucker. June, Andrea Wilson.”

  Andrea reminded me of Leah Mae. Tall and thin with wavy blond hair and expertly applied makeup. Her clothes were stylish—a crisp blouse and pair of dark slacks. High heels. She pursed her red lips and smiled.

  “Nice to meet you.” I held out my hand to shake. I was an expert hand-shaker. I’d been drilled by Cassidy and my dad on the proper technique—solid grip, but not too hard, shake twice—until I could have done it in my sleep.

  “You too.” Andrea shook my hand and her eyes flicked over me, like she was sizing me up. Then her gaze moved to George. “I didn’t realize you were going to have company. I actually have some things to go over with you. If you have time.”

  I’d be the first to admit, I was not usually adept at reading non-verbal cues. What Andrea said seemed innocuous enough. George was her boss, and he’d been out of town for a while. It made sense that she’d want to take advantage of being in the same place to review any necessary items on her list. But her body language and tone of voice told a completely different story.

  This woman did not like me. And she did not want me here.

  “That’s no problem. June and I don’t have plans. Let me just get Mellow situated.”

  Andrea shot daggers with her eyes in my direction.

  I
mentally added this to the list of firsts I was experiencing with George. I’d never had a woman look at me with envy before—at least never that I’d been aware of. It was disconcerting.

  George went to the kitchen table where a small cage sat. At first, I thought perhaps Andrea had forgotten the rabbit. There didn’t appear to be anything inside. He reached in and produced a little scrap of fur, cradling it in the palm of one of his large hands.

  It wasn’t a rabbit. It was a tiny white bunny.

  He held Mellow up to his face and her little nose wiggled as it touched his. She was so small she barely seemed real. Her fur was pure white, her eyes icy blue. There was black around her eyes that gave the impression she was wearing eyeliner. But it was her size, and the care with which George held her, that had my insides turning to mush.

  “Oh,” I breathed. “She’s so cute.”

  George beamed at me. “Isn’t she? She’s a Netherland dwarf. Hi, my little one. I missed you.”

  He nuzzled her against his cheek and my ovaries suddenly burst into song, declaring their presence in my body. I’d never in my life felt an urge to procreate. But watching this man snuggle a tiny white bunny made me desperate to have all his babies.

  “Do you want to hold her?” He held her out toward me.

  “Okay.”

  I cupped my hands and he gently transferred Mellow into my grasp. She barely weighed anything—just a little tuft of softness. The pads of her feet felt like velvet and her tiny nose wiggled as she sniffed her new surroundings.

  “She’s used to being handled a lot,” he said. “She won’t jump out of your hands or anything.”

  Holding her up so I could see her face, I brought her closer. She inched forward and her sweet little bunny nose tickled against my skin, making me giggle.

  “Good girl, Mellow,” he said. “I knew she’d like you.”

  Andrea cleared her throat again. “GT, it’s a long drive.”