Gin Fling (Bootleg Springs #5) - Lucy Score Page 0,20

clients to my house to grill them about my family. I’m trying to make this ridiculous living situation work, but you’re making it impossible, Shelby.”

I got goosebumps when he said my name.

He sounded a little close to the breaking point. “I asked them about the history of the town. Apparently, you Bodines are a big part of that story,” I explained.

He set the empty glass down with a hard click. “Stop asking questions about my family.”

I’d had just about enough of the Jonah Hates Shelby show. “Oh for Pete’s sake—”

“June said that you cornered some senior citizen at Yee Haw Yarn and Coffee and demanded they tell you everything there was to know about Callie Kendall. Then I heard through Jameson that you threatened the mayor with a Freedom of Information Act request to get your hands on the police records. And then your own brother starts telling me today in the middle of his workout how you’re thinking about producing a documentary.”

His voice wasn’t calm or annoyed right now. He was bright, blazing mad.

“And no one but me seems to give a damn!”

I laughed out a sigh. “Jonah, they’re teasing you.”

He was too mad for my words of wisdom to sink in.

“I don’t know what your game is or why my sister thought it was a good idea to have us live together, but if you’re stupid enough to think you can take advantage of me—”

“I’m not a reporter, you mule-headed moron!” I shouted. It took a lot to get me going. Calling me stupid was one of those triggers, and Jonah had just pulled it. Unfortunately for him, there was no safety.

“The entire town knows that I’m not a reporter. Yes—” I held up a hand when he tried to speak. “I write freelance articles for scientific publications and research pieces for academic journals. I could care less what happened to Callie Kendall or whether or not your father had anything to do with it. I’m here to write my dissertation for my Ph-freaking-D and find out how an entire town banded together to evict a bunch of journalists who were making their lives miserable.”

He blinked, then frowned.

“They’re all just messing with you because you’re showing signs of that world-famous Bodine stubbornness. Do I look like I would hold a senior citizen hostage with a knitting needle? Do I act like I’m writing a crime-of-the-century article on your damn father?” I gave a bitter laugh and didn’t even care that all four of my guests were pressed up against the screen door catching every word.

“Here’s a news bulletin for you, Jonah Bodine: I’m not interested in you. Or your family. I’m here for this town. And if you don’t believe me, well, then you can just go bless your own little heart!”

“Close enough,” Myrt called approvingly through the screen.

The ladies on the porch erupted into applause.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go back to my friends who have been kind and welcoming unlike some other people in this house,” I shouted.

Q. How do you most often communicate with your neighbors?

Cheyenne Hastings: I just holler out my window! Sooner or later everyone in town walks by.

10

Jonah

Shelby stomped out of the kitchen, her long dark hair swinging in its ponytail, leaving me staring after her.

I couldn’t trust her explanation… could I? Not when she’d waltzed into town under false pretenses. Not when my entire family had tales to tell about her. They wouldn’t set me up like that. Would they?

I pulled out my phone and called the one person I was sure wouldn’t lie to me.

“Hello, sir,” Devlin said. “How can I help you?” He had his business professional voice on. I’d probably interrupted him in the middle of being a lawyer.

“Is Shelby really a reporter? Or is she a student working on some kind of degree?” I demanded.

He sighed into the phone. “In this case, it would be the latter,” he said.

I tipped my head back and stared up at the ceiling. “And everyone knows except me?”

“That is accurate.”

“Well, fuck.” I swiped the sweat out of my eyes.

“I think a jury would certainly understand those sentiments,” Devlin said mildly. I heard a door close on his end. “Okay, Scarlett can’t hear me now.”

“Are you hiding from my sister?”

“She’s chasing me around with tile samples. Then when I have an opinion on one, she tells me I’m wrong.”

I laughed despite myself. “That sounds about right.”

“You should have heard her when I suggested we hire a designer.”

“I’m surprised you’re

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