bar and leaned across to give her our orders. Her eyes flicked to me for a few seconds, then back again, but she was too far away for me to read anything in her expression.
A woman whose face seemed familiar came over to my table. She was slim, maybe in her fifties, wearing a plaid flannel shirt, cowboy boots, and a friendly smile.
“Evenin’,” she said, raising a half-full mason jar. “Just wanted to pop on over and say hi. I’m Fanny Sue.”
Of course, Fanny Sue Tomaschek. I remembered her from before. “Nice to meet you. I’m Maya.”
Her eyes tracked my face, just long enough for me to notice, but not quite long enough to be rude. And there was something in her expression. A wistfulness, maybe. “I hear you work for a big record company.”
“I do. Attalon Records. I’m a producer.”
“Wow, ain’t that something else,” she said. “That make you happy?”
I blinked in surprise. I’d expected a question about why I was in Bootleg, or maybe how I’d met Gibson. “Oh—well, yeah, it does.”
Her smile grew. “That’s wonderful to hear. So good to see you, Maya. I mean meet you.”
I watched her walk away, my lips parted, my heart suddenly pounding. Oh my god, did she know?
Gibson came back with our drinks. He slid a mason jar with an inch or so of amber liquid toward me and sat on the other stool.
“You all right?” he asked.
I leaned across the table and lowered my voice. “Fanny Sue Tomaschek just came over and said hello. I think she might know.”
His expression went stony, worry lines etching into his forehead. “You sure?”
“Not positive, but she said it was good to see me, then corrected herself to meet me.”
“She didn’t come out and say it? Use your name?”
I shook my head. “No. Isn’t she a deputy? Did Sheriff Tucker tell the department?”
“I don’t think so. Not yet. But Fanny Sue’s sharp. If anyone in this town was going to figure it out, it’d be her.” He looked in her direction for a second. “I don’t think we need to worry. She’s one of the good guys, anyway.”
With a deep breath, I released the tension in my shoulders. Gibson was probably right. There didn’t seem to be any reason to panic.
I took a sip of my drink, my first taste of real Bootleg Springs moonshine. It tasted exactly like apple pie—tart with a bit of cinnamon. It had a nice bite to it, warming my throat as it went down.
“Wow.” I put the mason jar down. “This is dangerous.”
“Yeah, you gotta sip it slow.”
“What are you drinking?” I gestured to his jar.
“Just water. I don’t drink.”
That was something I didn’t know. Had alcohol been a problem for him, or was it simply a matter of taste? “Can I ask if there’s a reason?”
He looked away and for a second, I wondered if I shouldn’t have asked.
“Dad drank. So I don’t.”
“I can understand that. I don’t need to, if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“Naw,” he said, meeting my eyes again. “If it bothered me to watch people get shitfaced, I’d have to move to another town.”
I tipped my mason jar, looking at its contents. “Well, I don’t plan on getting shitfaced. Although I have a feeling this stuff would make it easy.”
“That is a fact. If you do, I’ll get you home safe.”
That made me smile, and a warmth that had nothing to do with the liquor spread through me. I knew he would get me home safe. I could drink myself into oblivion, leaving me completely vulnerable, and I’d wake up in his bed tomorrow, no harm done—save the wicked hangover I’d be nursing. I trusted him.
Who else in this world did I trust like that? Almost no one.
I took another sip. It was damn good. “Thanks.”
A burst of laughter from near the pool tables carried over the music. Scarlett and Cassidy were cracking up at something. Devlin watched Scarlett, the end of his pool cue resting on the ground by his foot. Even from over here, I could see the adoration on his face. Bowie was looking at Cassidy with the same eyes.
I glanced around the bar again. At Shelby and Jonah, who’d joined the others at the pool tables, standing close together like they didn’t want to stop touching. At George and June, now the sole occupants of the dance floor, swaying to “Tennessee Whiskey.” At Jameson holding Leah Mae’s hand over their table, idly twisting her engagement ring while they talked.