Dusk settled over Bootleg springs, and the bang and pop of fireworks filled the air. People had been lighting things off for most of the day, but as the darkness grew, the fireworks increased. Kids ran around the beach waving sparklers, grown-ups launched bottle rockets out of beer bottles in their hands. Bigger fireworks went off with loud bangs over the lake, the sparks reflecting on the still water.

Jameson and I sat on a blanket on the beach, watching. Our clothes had dried in the afternoon sun, and we’d gone back to the park for our shoes. Then we’d stopped for hot dogs with coleslaw. We’d bought extra for my dad and Betsy, and run the food out to his place. I’d been happy to see Dad in a good mood, despite missing out on the festivities. When I’d offered to stay, or at least come back in time for dinner, Betsy had said she’d stick around for the rest of the day. They’d be able to see some of the fireworks from the porch. I was so grateful to her for keeping him company.

We’d come back to town and gotten our first cups of moonshine. Jameson was on his third, but he didn’t seem drunk at all. I felt tipsy after just two—even sipped slow—but I didn’t drink that often, and Bootleg Springs moonshine was no joke.

A big firework exploded over the lake to oohs and ahhs of the crowd around us. A big guy with no shirt, a hairy chest, and a beer belly barely contained by his denim overalls went running by, waving an American flag. I glanced over at Jameson and he grinned at me.

“You need another drink?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I think this is plenty.”

“Fair enough. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Jameson’s brother Gibson came over carrying a shopping bag. “Come on, Jame, it’s time.”

“For what?” Jameson asked.

“You know.” The corner of Gibson’s mouth hooked in a grin. A rare expression from the oldest Bodine, at least in my experience. Jameson’s brother always seemed so surly.

Jameson smiled back. I loved his smile; his whole face lit up. When we’d come up out of the water after jumping in the lake earlier, I’d wished I had a camera to capture the moment. His smile was amazing.

“I reckon I do know.” Jameson turned to me. “Come on. This’ll be fun.”

He got up and offered me a hand to help me stand. I only tipped a little bit, but he held onto my arms until I was sure of my feet.

“You sure you’re all right?” Jameson asked.

“Yeah.” I took a deep breath. The fresh air was tinged with the scent of explosives and smoke. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” he said, patting me on the shoulder.

He was such a gentleman. Old-fashioned, in some ways. Although that was probably from growing up in Bootleg Springs. The men here were like that. They held doors open and pulled out chairs. Put their jackets on the shoulders of chilly ladies.

I followed Jameson and Gibson down the beach. Past groups of people cooking food over fires, lighting sparklers, laughing and drinking. The mood was festive and fun. In a way, I was glad Kelvin wasn’t here. He’d probably be complaining about the noise.

Jameson’s arm brushed against mine as we walked, and I had the silliest urge to hold his hand. It made my cheeks warm and I was glad for the cover of darkness. I had no business blushing over thoughts of hand-holding with Jameson Bodine. I wasn’t a little girl anymore. And I wasn’t single. I was just a bit tipsy, and in the best mood I’d been in for quite a while. I wouldn’t ruin it by making things awkward.

We kept going, and the knots of people thinned out. The darkness thickened, but neither Jameson nor Gibson pulled out a light. I started to worry I might trip over something in the dark. But just as I was about to ask how much farther we were going to walk, Gibson stopped.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, he dropped the bag. “We need to get this done quick.”

“I know,” Jameson said. “Where are we setting it off?”

Gibson grinned again and dragged something out from under a nearby bush. “I made a raft.”

A big firework burst overhead, lighting up Jameson’s face. His eyes shone with mischief as he grinned back at his brother. “Perfect.”

Jameson started pulling things out of the bag. It was mostly sparklers and a few rolls of electrical tape.

“Sparklers?” I asked. “I thought you had some big fireworks or something.”

“You don’t know about sparkler bombs?” Jameson asked.

“Did you just say bomb?”

Jameson grinned at me. “You pack these in real tight, tape them secure, and add a fuse. It’s loud when it goes off.”

“That seems dangerous,” I said.

“Yeah, if you’re stupid,” Jameson said with a shrug. “You have to make sure the fuse is long enough. Plus, we’ll send it out on Gibson’s little raft, there. That’s gonna make a column of water forty feet high.”

Gibson chuckled while he helped Jameson open the packages.

“Here,” Jameson said and handed me the sparklers.

I held the handles while he bunched them up and started winding electrical tape around the bundle.

“Perfect,” he said as he wound the tape around. “The trick to these is getting the tape nice and tight. Well, that and not getting caught.”

“Hasn’t happened yet,” Gibson said.

“Don’t jinx it, man,” Jameson said. “Last year Judge Carwell almost saw us.”

More fireworks went off over the lake—pops and bangs followed by cheers, whoops, and hollers.

“You want to do a little bit of it?” Jameson asked.

“Sure,” I said.

He took the mostly-taped bundle of sparklers and I finished winding the tape around up to the top. He’d left a fuse sticking out of the middle. Gibson watched as we finished.

“Looks good,” Gibson said. “That’s gonna be a loud one.”

“Sure will,” Jameson said. “Let’s get her launched.”

Gibson’s raft was made of small planks of wood. He put it in the water and held it while Jameson set the sparkler contraption on top.

“This is nice,” Jameson said. “I almost hate to blow it up.”

“Almost,” Gibson said, grinning again.

I shook my head. What was it with guys and blowing things up? They’d been like this as boys, too. But I’d have been lying if I’d said it wasn’t thrilling to be fumbling around in the dark with them, doing something that was probably illegal.

“The breeze is just right,” Jameson said. He held out a lighter toward me. “Want to do the honors?”

“Okay,” I said, and he handed me the lighter. “Now?”

“Go ahead and light it,” Jameson said.

I crouched down and struck the lighter. The flame danced as I moved it toward the long fuse. My hand shook, and I was ready to run as soon as the fuse caught. Jameson put a steadying hand on my shoulder.

“You’re all right,” he said. “We’ll be well away when it blows.”

I nodded and thrust the flame to the end of the fuse.

“Let’s go,” Gibson hissed as soon as it caught. He pushed the little raft away from shore.

Jameson grabbed my hand and next thing I knew, I was running behind him, his fingers twined with mine. We didn’t go back the way we’d come, but darted down a narrow trail through the woods. Both the Bodines seemed to know exactly where to go, so I just held onto Jameson and followed along behind.

We emerged on a dirt road, the sound of fireworks behind us. The glow of the town lights weren’t far ahead. A minute later, we were walking back down to the beach, like we’d just been up to the Pop In to get snacks. Nothing out of place.

Jameson was still holding my hand, and I didn’t pull away. We got to the beach and he squeezed, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Ten seconds, I reckon.”

My heart raced. Gibson had stopped at a picnic table a little way down the beach and leaned his hip against it. A few more fireworks burst over the water, and I counted backward from ten in my head.

I got to two and held my breath. Waited. But nothing happened.

“Well, shit,” Jameson said. “Fuse must have—”

The loudest boom I’d ever heard went off in the night. Another firework went off just in time to light up a huge column of water streaming up into the air. Some people covered their ears, others startled and flinched. Still more pumped fists in the air and cheered.

I watched the water splash down, spraying in a wide circle around what had been Gibson’s homemade raft, and laughed. The explosive noise and big splash were strangely satisfying. I had a little taste of what boys seemed to enjoy about this kind of thing so much. It was fun.

Jameson shared a quick smirk with his brother, then Gibson wandered off in the other direction, his body language relaxed and casual.

Someone off to our right cleared their throat.

“Happy Fourth,” Jameson said, tipping his chin to Sheriff Tucker. He still had hold of my hand.

“You wouldn’t know anything about that blast out there, would you, Bodine?” Sheriff Tucker asked.

“Can’t say I do, sir,” Jameson said.

Sheriff Tucker hummed, a gravelly suspicious sound in his throat. “You think your brothers know anything?”

Jameson shrugged. “You’d have to ask them. I’ve been spending the holiday with my old friend Leah Mae, here.”

The sheriff’s gaze shifted to me and his expression softened. “Well, hi there, Miss Larkin. It’s awfully nice to see you back in town.”

I smiled. “Thank you. I’ve missed it.”

“Course you have,” he said with a nod. “Fine place to live, Bootleg Springs. All right, you two enjoy your evening.”

The sheriff walked on down the beach and Jameson finally let go of my hand. It felt cold after the warmth of his skin touching mine.

“Little does he know,” Jameson said, smiling at me. “You’re the one who lit it.”

“Only because you took me along. It wasn’t my idea.”

Jameson laughed. “And no one would suspect that pretty face. You look too sweet to be settin’ off sparkler bombs.”

Our eyes were locked, smiles fading. My heart was still racing from the anticipation of the explosion. The way Jameson looked at me made it beat harder. His gaze trailed down to my mouth. Instinctively, I licked my lips.

He blinked and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.

I was afraid he might say he had to leave. I knew the way I’d just looked at him hadn’t been right. The thoughts that had raced through my mind were not things an engaged woman should think when she was with another man. Jameson was just a friend. Running around in the dark with him after drinking a little moonshine was making me stupid.

“Should we go sit and watch the rest of the fireworks?” he asked.

I let out a breath in relief. I hadn’t ruined the evening. “Yeah, sure.”

We went back to the blanket and sat down. I made sure to keep plenty of space between us. But even just sitting on the beach with him, tilting our faces up to the sky, guilt washed over me. Hanging out with an old friend was fine, but my thoughts were straying to places they shouldn’t.

I didn’t wait long before deciding the best thing for me to do was go back to my cabin. It was late, and we’d had a fun day. The most fun I’d had in… I couldn’t remember how long. But I was feeling things I didn’t understand. Having thoughts about a man who wasn’t the one who’d put this ring on my finger. That wasn’t fair to Kelvin, and it wasn’t fair to Jameson either. He’d always been a good friend to me, and I didn’t want to ruin that now.

Jameson offered to walk me home, but I declined. I could see my cabin from where we were sitting, and the walk wasn’t far. I glanced over my shoulder when I got to the door and saw him standing near the edge of the crowd, watching. Like he was going to wait and make sure I got inside okay.

In fact, that was probably exactly what he was doing. Ever the gentleman.

I gave him a little wave and he held up his hand. Despite the part of me that didn’t want to say goodbye, I went inside and shut the door behind me.