Bourbon Bliss: Bootleg Springs Book Four Read online

  “Sure, sure.” He scooped Mellow out of my hands and took a seat at the table, still holding her. “Whatcha got for me?”

  Andrea shot me a glare that George didn’t appear to see. He was too busy getting Mellow situated in his lap.

  I decided to sit at the table with him. He had business to attend to, but he hadn’t asked me to leave.

  “I need some signatures.” She grabbed a messenger bag and pulled out some files, then set them on the table in front of him.

  “Sure.”

  I grabbed a pen off the counter behind me and handed it to him.

  He rewarded me with that dimply grin of his. “Thanks.”

  Another throat-clear from Andrea. She opened a file and flipped through a few pages. “Here.”

  George signed.

  Andrea flipped through a few more. “Here.”

  He signed again.

  I glanced over at Mellow’s cage. “She’s out of water.”

  “What’s that?” George asked as he signed another document.

  “Mellow doesn’t have any water.” The cage was nearest to me, so I scooted it closer. I wasn’t familiar with Mellow’s feeding schedule, but there was no sign of food. More bothersome, in my opinion, was the bone-dry water bottle.

  “Uh oh, little one. Are you thirsty?” George held her up to his face again. “Can you get her some water, Andrea? That should be kept full at all times.”

  Andrea rolled her eyes as she stood. “She’s fine.”

  I unhooked the water bottle and handed it to Andrea. Our eyes met and there was no mistaking the flash of heat in her gaze. She took the bottle to the sink.

  George thumbed through the paperwork while Andrea refilled Mellow’s water. It bothered me that he wasn’t reading what he was signing. That was on my list of things you never do. Right up there with drinking more than one cup of Sonny Fullson’s peach cobbler moonshine or sticking a fork in a light socket. The kind of thing everyone knows you should avoid.

  Andrea got the water bottle reattached and George gently set Mellow in her cage. She scurried to the spout and drank.

  “Poor little nugget,” George said. “You were thirsty.”

  It bothered me deeply that Andrea had let Mellow run out of water, although logically, I didn’t understand why. Was it simply that the animal’s needs hadn’t been met? “A domesticated animal should always have a supply of water. They lack the capacity to communicate their needs to the humans responsible for their care.”

  “I realize pets need water,” Andrea said.

  “She looks all right,” George said.

  Andrea collected the files and put them back in her bag. “I have a long drive. Unless you need me to find a pet store to get her food, I should go.”

  Even I could hear the sarcasm in her tone. But George didn’t seem to.

  “No, I’ll handle it. Thanks for bringing her out, Andrea. Appreciate it.”

  Andrea’s eyes flicked between me and George again. “No problem. It’s my job.”

  George stood and walked her out. I waited at the table, watching Mellow drink. When she finally stopped, she seemed happier. Which was probably a figment of my imagination, as I didn’t think rabbits could express human emotions.

  “What do you think?” George asked. “Isn’t she a sweetheart?”

  “No, your assistant exhibits no qualities that would justify calling her sweet.”

  He laughed. “No, I mean Mellow.”

  “Oh, then yes, she’s exceedingly sweet.”

  “I let her run around at home, so I just need to bunny-proof a little bit. Then we can let her out.”

  I followed George into the living room. He started pulling cords off the floor and picked up a scrap of paper that had fallen.

  “What did Andrea have you sign?”

  He was on his hands and knees, checking around the small TV stand. “What?”

  “You signed a number of papers. I’m wondering what they were.”

  “Oh, I’m not sure exactly. There’s been a lot of paperwork as I transition from being on the active roster to retirement. There’s the pension, and insurance changes—things like that. Andrea has it all organized for me.”

  “But you shouldn’t sign things you haven’t read.”

  “It’s fine, June Bug. I pay Andrea to read it for me.”

  That seemed like a shockingly terrible idea. “You can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “She didn’t even make sure Mellow had water.”

  He paused, still on his hands and knees, and looked up at me. “What are you talking about?”

  “Mellow’s water bottle was completely dry. Not just out of water. Dry, George. If she can’t be trusted to take proper care of that tiny, helpless bunny, how can you entrust her with things like contracts and your finances?”

  “June, she’s worked for me for years.”

  I crossed my arms. “I don’t trust her.”

  “You just met her. I don’t think you need to be making snap judgments about her based on one little mistake. She’s not an animal person.”

  “I’m simply pointing out that if you’re going to put so much of your life, including your money, in a person’s hands, they ought to at least have the ability to care for an eighteen-ounce domesticated mammal.”

  He stood and crossed his arms. “What’s this really about? Don’t tell me you’re going to pull the jealousy thing. I know Andrea’s pretty, but you don’t need to be like that.”

  My eyes widened. Hearing him call her pretty felt like a blow to the stomach. “I’m hardly envious. The woman’s not even smart enough to realize when a water bottle is empty. Besides, of the two women in this room, I wasn’t the one glaring.”

  “Glaring? Andrea wasn’t glaring at you.”

  “She most certainly was.”

  “Well, you did call her out on the water being empty.”

  “I pointed out a simple fact, and the well-being of your pet was at stake.”

  “Oh my god, June,” he said. “Chill out about it. Mellow’s fine. Andrea wasn’t glaring at you. Why would she?”

  I paused, blinking at him, and that bright and twisted knot of emotions throbbed deep inside my chest. Mentally stepping back, I separated myself from the tangled jumble so I could think.

  It wasn’t the fact that Andrea had been giving me unfriendly glances that had my stomach hurting. And I had no reason to believe George was involved in a romantic or otherwise inappropriate relationship with her. Jealousy wasn’t the cause of my current state of distress.

  I didn’t like the way he was brushing my concerns aside, like he didn’t value my opinion. And it bothered me that his judgment seemed clouded. Was he so easily distracted by a pretty face? He himself had admitted his last girlfriend—maybe all his past girlfriends—had been with him for his money and fame. Why had he continued to associate with people like that? What did that say about him now?

  And why didn’t he care that I was worried about him?

  My lack of relationship experience felt like a glaring hole, huge and black. I didn’t like being in situations that made me feel inept. It was uncomfortable, and when I was uncomfortable, my first reaction was to retreat.

  “I have to go.”

  “Wait, June—”

  I was out the door before he could finish.

  16

  George

  Curling my hand around my beer, I let the icy cold bite into my palm. I was still recovering from whatever demon concoction the Bodine brothers had let me drink. Made me drink was more like it. I should have known that peach cobbler moonshine was far more potent than it tasted. It had to have been. It had mellowed me out enough that they’d coaxed me into being launched into the lake by a fucking trebuchet. Honestly, who did that?

  But it was also kind of awesome. I mean, who did that? Bootleg Springs, that’s who.

  I figured they’d done their brand of hazing. I’d not only survived—something I hadn’t been too sure a
bout when I’d been sailing through the air—but I’d earned their approval, too. And I was glad for it. I liked June—a lot—and it was clear these were the sort of people who took care of each other, and didn’t take too kindly to outsiders being untrustworthy with one of their own.

  What I hadn’t counted on was getting into an argument with my brand-new girlfriend so soon. Not just an argument. A fight that had her racing off before we could resolve anything.

  I blew out a breath, then took a long pull from my beer.

  “Rough day?” Nicolette asked. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore a t-shirt that said My Sarcasm is Thicker Than My Thighs.

  “Yeah. Are you the sort of bartender that listens to everyone’s problems?”

  She shrugged as she wiped down the bar with a white cloth. “Only if you’re okay with hearing you’re a dumbass.”

  “How do you know I’m being a dumbass?”

  “If you’re sitting on that stool sucking down a beer after the hangover you must have from Sonny’s peach cobbler ’shine, you were being a dumbass about something.”

  “Tough crowd.”

  “I own the best bar in a town where I have to call the cops on a bunch of eighty-year-old bingo players on the regular and a bar fight is just some good fun on a Friday night.” She grinned. “You bet I’m a tough crowd.”

  I tipped my bottle to her. “Fair point.”

  The door swung open and three of the reasons for my hangover strolled inside. Bowie, Jonah, and Gibson Bodine looked every bit the brothers they were. Tall, dark hair, eyes ranging from blue to gray. I knew Jonah had a different mother, but he had enough Bodine in him that there was no mistaking his parentage.

  I liked these guys. Even though they could have killed me the other day.

  “GT.” Bowie slapped me on the back and hauled himself onto the stool next to me. “Hey, Nicolette. Beers for me and Jonah, when you have a second. Water for Gibs.” He turned to Gibson. “Or could she get you a nice lemonade?”

  “Piss off,” Gibson said. “Sweet tea, Nic.”

  Jonah sat next to Bowie, and Nicolette handed them their beers. Gibson took his mason jar of sweet tea and plucked out the straw.

  “There’s a lot of sugar in that,” Jonah said, gesturing toward Gibson’s drink.

  “Beer has carbs,” Gibson said with a scowl.

  Jonah seemed to concede his point and took a drink.

  “Why are you sitting here drinking alone?” Bowie asked.

  I took another pull. “Got in a fight with June.”

  Gibson and Jonah shared a look that clearly said that poor sucker.

  “Already?” Bowie asked. “GT, I thought we made things clear. Do we need to haul your ass back down to the lake? Because I’m telling you, it took a solid week of planning to pull that off and I don’t think we can get away with it again.”

  “Now hold up, Bodine,” I said. “We got into a little argument. That sort of thing has to be allowed. Otherwise you must be tossing your sister’s boyfriend into the lake at least once a week. Even I’ve seen them argue.”

  Bowie grinned. “We like Dev, but we still have a little fun with him from time to time. But no, you’re right. Couples argue.”

  Gibson snorted. “Don’t have to deal with that shit if you stay single.”

  “Amen to that,” Jonah said.

  Bowie scoffed. “Ignore those two. They don’t understand.”

  “Like you’re some relationship expert,” Gibson said. “You haven’t been dating Cass that long.”

  “We’ve been through our share of ups and downs already,” Bowie said, his tone even. “Don’t be a dick.”

  Gibson just shook his head.

  “What happened?” Bowie asked.

  “My assistant brought my bunny—”

  “Hold up,” Gibson said. “Did you just say bunny?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

  Jonah stifled a laugh.

  “She’s my pet.”

  “That’s a surprising piece of information,” Bowie said. “I’d have pegged you as more of a dog person.”

  “I played football for ten years. I traveled too much to have a dog. I needed a pet that could be alone a lot, but still be friendly when I was home. That’s my little Marshmellow.”

  They all stared at me, open-mouthed.

  “Judge me all you want.” I took a drink. “You’ll see when you meet her. She’s goddamn adorable.”

  “Okay, moving on from the bunny,” Bowie said. “What does this have to do with Juney?”

  “My assistant Andrea brought Mellow, along with some paperwork for me. June met her and it all seemed fine. But when Andrea left, June launched into this thing about how I shouldn’t trust her, mostly because Andrea had forgotten to fill up Mellow’s water.”

  “June isn’t prone to overreacting,” Bowie said. “I have a hard time believing she was that upset over your bunny’s water.”

  “It wasn’t just that. She got on my case about not reading through all the paperwork I had to sign, but that’s Andrea’s job. And she said Andrea was glaring at her or something.”

  “Uh-oh,” the three men said in unison.

  “What?”

  “Was Andrea glaring at her?” Bowie asked.

  “No,” I said. Had she been? “I don’t think so.”

  “And how’d you respond to June’s accusation of glaring?” Bowie asked.

  “I said I knew Andrea was pretty, but June didn’t need to be jealous like that.”

  Bowie and Jonah both winced. Gibson shook his head, like he couldn’t believe he was talking to such a moron.

  “Jesus, GT, you didn’t really say that to her, did you?” Bowie asked.

  “Something like that,” I said. “I should have left out the pretty remark, huh…”

  “You think?” Gibson asked.

  “All I meant was, June has absolutely no reason to be jealous of Andrea. She’s worked for me for seven years. If I was going to mess around with her, I would have done it a long time ago. We have a strictly professional relationship and we always have.”

  “Look, GT, you have to be straight with June,” Bowie said. “She’s smarter than half this town combined, but she sees things literally. You gotta say what you mean, not assume she’ll figure it out.”

  “That’s not even the real issue,” Gibson said.

  Bowie’s eyebrows winged up his forehead. “What?”

  “The issue is that June had a concern and you blew her off. She saw something that she thought wasn’t right. She let you know. You told her she shouldn’t be jealous of your pretty assistant, which basically sent the message that you weren’t taking her seriously. No shit she’s mad at you. I wouldn’t speak to you either.”

  Bowie and Jonah stared at Gibson.

  “What?” he asked.

  “That was very insightful, Gibs,” Bowie said. “Although why were you tossing shit my direction? You’re aggressively single, but you’re qualified to dole out relationship advice?”

  Gibson cracked a rare smile behind his thick beard. “Coaches don’t play on the field, Bow.”

  “That’s a fair point,” I said, tipping my beer to Gibson.

  He nodded.

  “Coach my ass,” Bowie said. “This is from the guy who once dated Misty Lynn Prosser.”

  “Shut your pie hole.” Gibson finished his sweet tea, set down the jar, and stalked off toward the pool tables.

  “That was interesting,” Jonah said. “Gibs was being oddly helpful just then.”

  “I know,” Bowie said. “And he told us to go easy on you when we were planning the whole lake thing.”

  “I won’t even pretend I understand that guy,” Jonah said. “But he doesn’t hate you, GT, so you have that going for you.”

  I knew Gibson remembered me helping him the day he’d almost hit that deer. I didn’t like that he’d crashed his car, of course, although he’d already fixed so
me of the damage. But I didn’t mind the fact that it seemed to have put Gibson in the pro-GT camp. I had a feeling not many people got that guy to like them.

  But I still had to figure out what to do about June.

  “I screwed up, didn’t I?”

  “Little bit,” Bowie said.

  “How do I fix it?” I asked. “My last girlfriend would have wanted diamond earrings or a designer purse. I know that’s not June. Hell, it’s one of the reasons I like June.”

  “First of all, be prepared for her to show you charts and graphs that explain how she’s right.” Bowie took a drink. “But I have to admit, despite the fact that I’m in love with June’s sister, I don’t understand Juney too well.”

  I got the sense that a lot of people didn’t understand June very well. Which seemed odd to me. She was different, but in a lot of ways, that made her easy to understand. You knew where you stood with her.

  Of course, that didn’t mean I magically knew how to handle our first fight. But at least I knew buying her presents wasn’t the answer.

  I stared at the mouth of my beer bottle. June wasn’t like other girls I’d known, but that didn’t make her any less a woman. I’d hurt her feelings. Gibson had been spot on. She’d been concerned about me. She cared. And I’d brushed that aside, assuming she was jealous.

  Some girls played games. Made you guess. Not my June Bug. She’d said exactly what she meant. I just hadn’t been listening carefully.

  “I need to go talk to her.”

  “Good luck,” Bowie and Jonah both said.

  “Thanks.”

  I got up from my stool and headed for the door. Gibson caught my eye. Gave me a quick chin tip, which I returned.

  Then I went in search of my girl.

  17

  June

  I stared into my open refrigerator, wishing it contained something suitable. When I’d first heard about George’s injury—back when he’d been nothing but a statistic on my fantasy football team—I’d been upset, and Cassidy had suggested I eat my feelings. An odd concept, to be sure, but it did contain a certain merit. Binging on carbs would spike blood sugar levels and the resulting dip as insulin flooded the body would make one sluggish and tired. Perhaps the resulting sensation of lethargy was preferable to sadness and anxiety.