the quartet began to play a quiet country—of course—ballad.
But what caught and held my attention was Shelby. She stood on the top step in a pink party dress with a low scoop neck and a full skirt. She was smiling ear to ear, hands clasped in front of her.
“What’s all this?” I asked, climbing the steps to her.
She leaned in and gave me a soft kiss. I tried to be mindful of our underage audience. But I still had a brain full of naked plans.
Her lips against mine, the soft brush of her body, the night air filled with nature’s song. It went straight to my head. I wouldn’t need the champagne. I was already buzzing.
“You’re not the only one who wants to be memorable,” she said, pulling back with a grin. The woman could light up a room or an entire front yard with that smile.
“Shelby, there isn’t a chance on this Earth that I won’t be remembering you when I’m eighty and leading a chair yoga class at the retirement home,” I teased.
“Just making sure,” she said.
Billy Ray scrambled against my leg, demanding his share of the attention. I leaned down to scoop him up but couldn’t resist giving Shelby another kiss. Pretty in pink. Her dark bangs framed those wide eyes that sparkled like all the joy in the world lived inside her.
She took my breath away.
“Come on, dinner’s ready,” she said, leading me to the table.
I gave the dog a snuggle and a kiss before setting him down in front of his food and water dishes. A family dinner, I realized.
“You cooked?” I asked, trying to hide the apprehension.
“I ordered out,” Shelby said smugly. She pointed to the heaping Cobb salads on the plates.
“Hi, guys,” I said, giving the quartet a little wave. Fingers on strings and bows wiggled back.
I sat and admired the view as Shelby adjusted her skirts across from me.
“You’re a hell of a girl, Shelby Thompson.”
“Thank you for noticing, Jonah Bodine.” She batted her lashes coyly, and I laughed.
We dined al fresco to live music. And I filled her in on the latest in my mother’s relationship.
“It sounds serious,” she mused, over her glass of champagne.
“It’s just a fling,” I predicted. “My mom isn’t going to uproot her entire life to take a chance on love in Bootleg Springs.”
“In that case, to summer flings,” she said, raising her glass to mine.
“To summer flings,” I echoed.
Later that night, I tipped the teenage musicians twenty bucks each and then guided Shelby upstairs. And when I settled over her, into her, with the flavor of champagne between us, I wondered again if there was more to this. To us. Than just one summer.
Q. In what ways do you interact with your neighbors outside of societal norms?
Walter Nagley: I play the violin on their front porches while they’re on a date. Thanks for the $20.
39
Shelby
“Next time you need a favor, can you please make it an easy one that actually pays off in the end?” Amanda huffed into my ear. It was a hot July morning. The park was still decked out from last week’s holiday festivities, the breathtaking engagement ring Jameson had slid on Leah Mae’s finger this weekend hadn’t lost its sparkle, and I was hustling my wayward puppy through a series of training exercises on our walk through town that he was all too happy to ignore.
“I promise you I’ll never ask for another favor again,” I said, untangling Billy Ray’s leash from my legs. Leash manners and walking etiquette were not his strong suit. He’d just gotten done wrapping me up with a cocker spaniel named Linda in the lakefront park when Amanda called.
“I’m afraid you might have wasted this one,” she said. I heard her bite into something crisp and crunchy. Lunchtime for most social workers happened on the fly.
“No cases?” I asked, disappointed but not surprised.
“There was one.”
I perked up and towed Billy Ray toward a park bench, wishing I had a notebook on me. Jonah and I were meeting up after his personal training session to swap dog parenting duties, so I hadn’t thought to bring anything with me besides a collapsible water dish for the puppy.
“You’re kidding me,” I said. I felt the interest hum to life inside me. New information. Something no one else had. It was a researcher’s fantasy.
“Unsubstantiated claim in Henrico County. It’s an old file, so it looks kind of like someone forgot to enter ninety percent of the information, including what the initial