I knew exactly where to find the rat bastards. “Think they can solve my problems for me,” I muttered under my breath as I kicked The Lookout’s front door open. There they were, lined up like ducks in a shooting gallery at the bar, laughing.

I wasn’t mad enough not to notice Jameson slapping Jonah on the back when he reached the punchline of whatever the hell stupid joke he was telling. Meanwhile Gibs and Devlin had their heads together snickering about something.

“Well, well. If it isn’t a whole bunch of jackasses I’m not talkin’ to anymore,” I announced.

Nicolette, the hard-assed, smart-mouthed bartender, gracefully backed herself into the kitchen.

“Now, Scarlett,” Bowie began.

“And why the hell aren’t you at school?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“I had a family emergency,” he said with a smirk. I glared at him until he ducked behind Devlin who didn’t know enough to avoid me when I was like this.

“You don’t get that grin off your face right now, I’m going to remove it for you,” I warned my brother.

“What’s the problem?” Jameson sighed, hefting his beer and knowing full well what the problem was.

“I fight my own battles,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, but this way we didn’t have to pay bail money,” Jameson shot back.

I gritted my teeth together and tried to kill them all with lasers from my eyes.

The bar was mostly empty. It filled up on weeknights starting around five o’clock. But for now, we had the place to ourselves except for a few barflies. I didn’t care much about the audience. The whole town was already buzzing about my brothers busting into Wade Zirkel’s house and making him piss his pants. I made a mental note to find out later whether that tidbit was true.

“Don’t be mad,” Gibson ordered, putting his water down on the bar. Gibson was the only one of us who didn’t drink. I figured he thought he’d got enough of Daddy’s bad genes that he didn’t want to tempt alcoholism.

“Who decided I couldn’t handle my own problems myself?” I demanded, tapping my foot on the floor. I could damn well handle myself. I didn’t need a bunch of overgrown babysitters anymore. I wasn’t actually going to burn Wade’s house down. But I would have sweet-talked his landlady into giving me the spare key for an hour or two so I could get my stuff and pull up the carpet to dump a couple of cans of baby shrimp underneath.

Devlin and Jonah shared a look, and I shook my head. “Oh, no. Not you two. You’re both here for four seconds and deciding I can’t live my own life?”

“To be fair, Scar, it takes most people less time than that to see you need a babysitter.” Gibson was grinning. And while the sisterly part of my heart was happy to see him getting on with Jonah, the independent woman part of me wanted to kick him in the face.

I settled for the shin.

“Ow! Fuck!” he held his abused shin and hopped on his good leg.

“Steel toe, you son of a bitch. Now, for the last time, I’m an adult, and I deal with my own problems.”

“What kind of an adult are you if you’re still making your high school mistakes over again?” Jameson asked mildly. He was smart enough to keep a barstool in between us. Otherwise he’d be on his knees.

I was too mad to speak.

I wasn’t proud of the fact that I’d ended up in bed with Wade Zirkel again. But pickins’ were slim in Bootleg, and damn it. The weeks leading up to Dad’s death were some of the loneliest of my life. I knew it was coming. I had a feeling I couldn’t shake, and rather than dwell on the fact that my dad was drinking himself to death on purpose and my brothers couldn’t be roused to care, I’d sought what comfort I could find.

And screw them for judging me for it.

I settled for double middle fingers, flipping them all the bird before I stormed out the way I came in.

“Scarlett, wait.”

Devlin was the only one of them dumb enough to come after me when I was in this kind of mood. A sane man would give me the space to get over my mad. Not Devlin. He yanked open the passenger door of my truck.

“Talk to me,” he said.

“Either get in or get out of my face,” I suggested, breathing fire.

I had a temper. I was aware of that fact. I came by it honestly. My daddy had once thrown a claw hammer through a screen he’d just hung on someone’s porch because he couldn’t find his tape measure.

Devlin got in, a further testament to his lack of sanity.

“Want to talk?” he asked pleasantly. He clicked his seatbelt into place.

“No, I do not want to talk,” I insisted. “Why would I want to talk about my brothers and my neighbor running off to do my dirty work? Embarrassing me in front of the whole town. I can’t believe they still feel like they have to protect me and clean up my messes. And I can’t believe you went along with them. What is it about me that screams ‘incapable of taking care of myself’? Because I’ll have you know I’ve been taking care of myself for a good, long time. Thank you very much.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but I just plowed right on.

“So what if I slept with the big, dumb loser? So what if he wouldn’t give me my stuff back? I would have fixed it. I can handle myself, and I don’t appreciate being treated like someone’s baby sister all the damn time. I’m twenty-six. I run a damn business. I own property. I haven’t starved myself to death or set myself on fire. And yet. And yet, you all act like I’m one second from fallin’ down a mine shaft.”

This time Devlin didn’t open his mouth.

He let me rant and rave all the way home. I pulled into my driveway because there was no way I was driving a man home who decided to pay my ex—whatever the hell Wade was—a visit and humiliate me.

I dumped the truck into neutral and yanked on the parking brake.

“So what you’re saying is you’re angry,” Devlin summarized.

I launched at him and nearly gave myself whiplash from the seatbelt that was still securely fastened. I wrestled with it, gnashing my teeth with frustration, until Devlin reached over and calmly released me.

I sat back against the seat and huffed out a breath.

“Maybe you don’t like your family getting involved with your mistakes,” Devlin began again. “And maybe I know how that feels.”

I shot him a glowering look out of the corner of my eye and crossed my arms over my chest. “What would you know about it?”

“I married Johanna, a woman my parents had practically picked out for me. She was ‘the right kind of partner,’” he said, adding air quotes. “And when our marriage fell apart—”

“Why are you so polite about it?” I demanded. “This Johanna—what the hell kind of name is that anyway—didn’t just let your marriage fall apart. She willfully destroyed it. She’s an asshole.”

Devlin gave me that ghost of a smile that got that warm feeling lodging in my belly.

“Fine,” he conceded. “I married an asshole who publicly destroyed our marriage. My family tried to arrange counseling for us. Too embarrassing, a divorce this early in the relationship.”

My jaw dropped. “They tried to force you into counseling?”

Devlin nodded. “My parents and my in-laws decided it was better for everyone if Johanna and I stayed married and worked through our problems. Despite the fact that it’s the last thing in the world I’d ever consent to. I may not have been the most attentive husband, but I didn’t force her into anyone else’s bed. Or our bed as it turns out. But she found a more suitable partner. Someone whose career was progressing a bit faster than mine.”

I swore quietly. I hoped that one day I’d get to meet this Johanna and tell her what a steaming piece of shit she was. “I’m willing to admit that you might possibly have some small sliver of an idea of the rage that I’m feeling,” I said. “So, what happened?”

“I got pissed off and punched her lover in the face at the end of our last day in session—I may have also kicked him while he was on the floor—and refused to go anywhere near a counselor.”

“Why do you sound embarrassed by that?” I asked. He’d just described the appropriate reaction to a cheating asshole.

“That’s not how McCallisters handle things,” he said dryly.

“How do McCallisters handle things? Bend over and take it?” I challenged.

“We handle things privately. Never with violence. Occasionally with attorneys present.”

“They really expected you to suck it up and stay with an unfaithful dickhead?” My family might be a lot of things, but what mattered the most to them—what they were annoyingly vocal about—was what was best for me.

“It’s what would adhere to our agenda. A divorce only three years into the marriage suggests instability. In future elections, a divorced candidate would be seen as less secure, less likable, than a married one.”

“Bull. Shit. So you’re supposed to stay married to a piranha for the sake of your family’s agenda? That’s horrible.”

He rubbed the space between his dark eyebrows. “In this instance, I happen to agree with you.”

“So why did you go along with the four stooges today?” I pressed. “You had to know they wouldn’t be civilized about it.”

“Curiosity. I wanted to see the kind of man you’d choose to spend your time with. Plus, it never hurts to have an attorney with you when you dance across the lines of the law. Also, according to your phone conversation, I was curious about how tiny his balls were.”

I dropped my head to the steering wheel.

“You don’t have to explain to me. Just because I opened up to you about my painful, humiliating experience. Don’t feel obligated to balance the scales. I’d hate for you to talk to me out of guilt.”

I flopped back against the seat and groaned.

“Look, it’s not like I loved Wade. Hell, I don’t think I even like him. It’s just I didn’t want to go home every night and think about the fact that my father was dying and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.” My voice broke, and I closed my eyes as the emotions I’d tamped down for so long bubbled to the surface. “My brothers, as you may have guessed, wrote our father off years ago. For me, it was different. We still went to work almost every day together. Went to lunch together. I did his grocery shopping. I took him to the doctor.”

I took a steadying breath and stared hard at my sweet little cottage in front of us.

“I was there when the doctor told him he had weeks. And I was there when he kept right on drinking. And I was there when he didn’t wake up.”

Devlin leaned over the console and reached for me. He dragged me into his lap and tucked my head against his cheek.

I didn’t realize I was crying until my breath hitched. “Dang it. I don’t cry. Like ever. This is just stupid.”

He just held on to me tighter.

“I just didn’t want to have to think. So I stirred things up with Wade again. He was familiar. A familiar asshat, but still he didn’t try to make something out of nothing. He let me call the shots and didn’t bring any expectations to the table.”

Devlin tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, and I stopped talking so I could listen to the steady thud of his heart under my ear. He stroked my hair slowly, leisurely.

We were quiet for long minutes. I felt the tension slowly seep out of my body, replaced by the heat of his. It felt like a relief to give it all up for a minute.

“You haven’t asked me about that kiss,” I said finally.

“I haven’t had you alone since then,” he pointed out.

I picked my head up to look him in the eye. “You’ve got me alone now.”

“All right. Why did you kiss me, Scarlett?”

I loved how my name sounded on his lips. Reaching up, I toyed with the collar of his t-shirt and trailed my fingers over his neck. His breath was hot on my face, the warm sunshine pouring in the windows of the truck. Outside, birds sang, bees buzzed, and the world went on.

“Maybe I was curious,” I admitted.

“And what did you find out?” he asked softly, dangerously.

I raised my gaze to his. Those brown eyes warm and interested.

“That I liked it.”

He made his move and leaned in, but I pressed my fingers to his lips. “Hang on, Dev. I made myself a promise I wouldn’t just hop into someone else’s bed after the Zirkel debacle.”

He stilled under me.

“But you’re not just someone else. And that kiss wasn’t just a kiss,” I continued. “I haven’t decided if I’m sleeping with you or not,” I fibbed. “But I’m giving it a whole lot of thought.”

“Me too, Scarlett. Me too.”