your mom went on a date with Jimmy Bob Prosser. A proper one with dinner and candles last night. And she’s hoping that you’ll fall in love, get married, and give her some grandbabies.”
I left him sitting behind the wheel, speechless, and went inside to let Billy Ray out.
38
Jonah
“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Mom asked me under the protective arm of Jimmy Bob Prosser as they escorted me toward the fire escape.
They’d invited me over for dinner, which I’d declined since I wanted to make sure Shelby was eating something healthy tonight. So we’d decided on drinks on the rooftop deck of the hardware store. Jimmy Bob lived in the apartment above the store, the back of which opened onto the first-floor roof overlooking the rear parking lot.
It was a cool, functional spot, with some camp chairs and a folding table. I could tell by the way my mom scanned the deck while we talked that she was mentally redecorating the space.
“I’m sure,” I told her. “You two have fun with the banjo trio.”
“Jimmy Bob’s been taking banjo lessons from Mayor Hornsbladt,” my mother said proudly.
I made a mental note to remind her of that particular statement later. And add it to the list of things said only in Bootleg Springs.
“Really? That’s great, Jimmy Bob,” I said.
The big bear of a man blushed pink, his barn-broad shoulders hunching. “It’s just a fun hobby,” he said. “Drive safe now, you hear?”
“Will do, Jimmy Bob,” I said, stepping onto the fire escape.
My mom gave me a sunny smile, which I returned.
She’d been cagey about when she was returning to Jetty Beach. She’d had a month’s worth of vacation days saved up from all the years she’d never taken one. And since the diner where she worked back in Jetty Beach was closed for renovations, there seemed to be no rush to get back. Not when she was enjoying her own summer fling.
“Have a nice night, y’all,” I said. “Thanks for the beer.”
Shit. I’d said y’all. Bootleg Springs claimed another victim.
I got in my car and headed in the direction of home. My windows were down, letting the evening summer breeze into the car. Fireflies lit up and snuffed out, working out their own kind of Morse code on the humid night air. The crickets and tree frogs were competing for loudest celebration in the woods that flashed past my headlights.
I tapped my hands on the wheel in time to the Darius Rucker song I’d cranked and turned into the gravel drive of the Little Yellow House.
I felt good. Better than good. Especially when I thought of Shelby waiting for me at home.
Shelby.
Just thinking about her made me smile, I thought as the back of the house came into view. I knew it was a summer thing. A fling.
And maybe that was part of this feeling.
We were free to have fun, to just enjoy.
We’d developed our own routine. Waking early before any obligations, spending the first quiet moments of the day naked and playful. Learning each other’s bodies. Most mornings, we worked out together, and in the evenings, I cooked and Shelby cleaned while we filled each other in on our days. Billy Ray at our feet or in our laps. In a sense, we were playing house without the strain of commitments and responsibilities. Of expectations and futures.
I wouldn’t mind summer nights like this in my future, coming home to Shelby. More nights tangled up in the sheets, eating cold leftovers naked in bed while we laughed and talked.
I hoped that was the agenda for tonight.
I wouldn’t mind if it was on the agenda every night. The thought, fleeting though it was, caught my attention. Could we find a way to make our own endless summer? Was that even a possibility? Was it something that I really wanted?
There were cars here, I noted, pulling around the front of the house.
My plans for a quiet, naked night evaporated.
I got out from behind the wheel to Billy Ray’s excited yips. The front porch was dressed for fancy. Candles winked in the darkness, and a string of lights glowed on the railing, illuminating a linen-covered table set for two, a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, and… was that a string quartet?
Yep. It looked as though Shelby had raided the Bootleg Springs High School band. The kids were dressed in the teenage version of fancy in jeans and black t-shirts. The cellist had braces.