Scarlett looked at me like I’d just suggested we shave each other’s heads when all I’d done was asked her to spend the night. She looked legitimately confused. “But my bed is two-hundred yards that way,” she said, pointing through the woods toward her house.

“I know, but my bed is right here, and so are you,” I insisted.

I wasn’t done with her tonight. Hell, I didn’t know if I had the stamina for another round. But I wasn’t going to go to bed without her wrapped up in my arms.

I don’t know what happened in that field. Something had detonated in my chest, and I’d gone places I’d never been before. I’d never been so possessive, aggressive. It was unsettling. And I wasn’t letting Scarlett out of my sight until she told me that everything was okay between us.

She frowned through the windshield at my grandmother’s house. “Fine. But you better have food. I’m starving.”

“Jonah’s got a secret stash of frozen pizzas,” I promised.

She brightened considerably, and we went inside.

I gave Scarlett a t-shirt to wear. I was half afraid if she went next door to change, she wouldn’t come back. So the t-shirt solved that dilemma. I had no idea that a beautiful woman wearing my shirt that came to her knees would be so sexy, so sweet.

“What?” she asked, giving me a side-long look.

“What what?” I slid the pizza onto the oven rack.

“You keep looking at me and smiling.”

“Is that a problem?”

“I don’t know. This is weird. Isn’t this weird? I feel weird.”

I turned to face her and pulled her into my arms. “Very weird. Does that make you feel better?”

She looked up at me, her eyes that soft gray. Her small frame was strong and capable. In her bare feet, Scarlett only came up to mid chest on me. She’d pulled her hair up in a wild tail. The freckles dusted across the bridge of her nose made her look fragile like a porcelain doll. A deception for sure. She was strong and delicate and wild and tame. So many contradictions wrapped in one small, sexy package.

I liked seeing her like this. I wondered if Johanna had ever looked like this, or had she only traded business suits for cocktail dresses and silk pajamas?

“You’re doing it again,” Scarlett said softly.

“I can’t help it. I think you took a piece of me tonight.”

She shot me a coy look. “I think I took three pieces of you tonight. One for each orgasm you gave me.”

She did it again. Scarlett had managed to loosen something tight in me, release another worry. How could I not feel like king of the world with this woman in my shirt, in my kitchen, in my arms?

“We should probably talk,” I guessed. We hadn’t discussed what this would mean in terms of a relationship or my limited time here in Bootleg.

“About the pizza?”

“About us.”

“Oh. That.”

I felt my newfound confidence begin to deflate like a balloon.

But she smiled brightly. “I think we both know the score. What we did tonight? Definitely happening again. And as often as possible while you’re here.”

I blinked. “That’s it?”

She nodded earnestly. “Yup.”

“Soooo...”

“So, we’re good,” she shrugged.

She rummaged through the fridge and fished out two beers. Making herself at home, she grabbed the bottle opener out of the drawer next to the fridge. An accessory I didn’t know I had. Jonah and I had been opening beers using the railing on the deck... like real men.

The terms of our relationship settled, Scarlett and I ate the pizza off of paper towels and drank beers straight from the bottle and listened to music. Her small feet rested in my lap while we sat on opposite ends of the couch.

I realized that this was the first time I’d ever seen her relaxed. Scarlett was always on the move, always in motion.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” I admitted.

She cracked one eye open and gave me a half smile. “Like what?”

“Still.”

She laughed. “You seem to have sapped the energy right out of me.”

I studied her, stroking my fingers over the soles of her feet. “What do you do to relax?” I asked.

“Relax?” she turned the word over as if she didn’t know its meaning.

She didn’t watch TV, I noticed. If Scarlett had downtime, it wasn’t spent binge-watching a show. She spent it with people. She also wasn’t one to spend time on her phone playing games or chatting with friends. I didn’t know if it came from growing up in a backwoods town with spotty cell reception or if it was more important to her to be present. I liked to think it was the latter.

“I don’t have time to relax. I’m too busy building my Bootleg empire,” she yawned. “What about you? What do you do to unwind?”

I thought about it.

“You’re frowning,” she pointed out.

I shot hoops with friends on the weekends. But they weren’t really friends. They were more other lawmakers, other lawyers. And we’d talked shop, made deals, argued cases.

“I guess I spent my time building my empire too.” And look where that had gotten me.

She stretched, making her entire body rigid before releasing a mighty yawn.

“Bedtime,” I decided for us. I scooped her up, leaving the pizza remains for later.

She squealed and cuddled into my chest. “I don’t know what your plans are, but I’m afraid my vagina might turn itself inside out if you try to give it another orgasm so soon.”

I laughed the whole way down the hall and dropped her on the mattress. “We’ll just sleep then,” I promised. I pointed her in the direction of the bathroom and spare toothbrush and whatever else she needed and then sat down on the edge of the mattress. I could hear the water running on the other side of the door.

Absently, I rubbed a hand over my chest. Tonight had been... it felt dramatic to say life-altering. But still. I’d never taken a woman that way, never had a lover so eager to meet my demands. But I’d never had Scarlett before. It felt like a key fitting into a lock, and I knew for sure that moving forward, everything would be different.

She padded back into the room and shucked my t-shirt off. “Hope you don’t mind. I sleep naked.”

I couldn’t think of anything that I’d mind less.

She pulled the quilt back and climbed in. “Just so you know, I’m not a cuddler,” she said, punching the pillows under her into submission.

“Duly noted.” I felt a spark of disappointment but dismissed it. Tonight had been otherworldly, and asking for anything more felt greedy.

I brushed my teeth with the door open and watched her in the mirror as she settled under the covers. My wife and I had shared a generously sized king bed. Each sticking to our own sides. Respecting the other’s space. Had I given her too much space? Is that why she went outside our relationship? It was something I’d wondered about in passing when I wasn’t too blinded by rage and humiliation.

I ran the water in the sink and decided that it didn’t matter. I had a tiny, fascinating brunette waiting for me in my bed.

I paused just inside the doorway and watched her. She lay on her side curled up, and when I crawled in next to her, I couldn’t resist it. I pulled her into my arms, settling her back against my chest, nestling her ass to my thighs.

“What’s this? What’s happening?”

“Just go with it,” I advised.

“Fine, but I probably won’t be able to sleep,” she grumbled.

I smiled into the dark and rested my chin on her head.

A minute later, she was snoring softly, and I was still smiling.

And when I woke in the middle of the night, she was sprawled out on top of me, sound asleep, her face pressed into my neck. I smiled into the dark and stroked a hand down her naked back. She cuddled in even closer.

It was going to be a good day.

* * *

The pounding on the front door started just after seven-thirty. Scarlett frowned in her sleep when I shifted her off of me and onto the mattress. I cursed whoever was trespassing on our first morning together while I pulled on a pair of sweat pants. If Jonah had forgotten his key, I wondered if I could craft a plausible murder defense. I was still shirtless when I yanked the door open.

“What?”

The Bodines ranged themselves on Gran’s front porch. I’d seen this before, but the last time I was on their side of the door. Jonah gave an embarrassed wave from the back of the pack.

“You’re not taking my remote batteries,” I said, walking back to the kitchen and leaving the front door open.

“Y’all have a good night last night?” Bowie asked casually.

I stabbed the start button on the coffeemaker. Except for Jonah, they were all sporting bruises and minor cuts. “Better than you guys, it looks.”

“There was a small skirmish on the dance floor,” Gibson said. He had a cut on his lip and some bruising under his left eye.

“Let me guess. Amos?” I said dryly.

“I fucking hate that guy,” Bowie said. His right eye was blackened, and his knuckles were scraped and bruised.

“Yeah, because you’re too chicken shit to ask out his girl,” Gibson said, poking the bear.

“She’s not his girl,” Bowie snapped.

“Ain’t yours either,” Jameson pointed out mildly. He had a scrape mark on his cheek and a bruise on his chin and a small cut on his forehead.

“Can we please focus?” Bowie demanded.

I lined up the coffee mugs on the counter and glanced toward the bedroom door, which was still closed. “I assume you’re all here to kick my ass?”

Gibson crossed his arms. “Why? Do we have a reason to?”

Besides the fact that his sister was naked in my bed?

“I’m guessing you’re here because Scarlett came home with me last night.”

“Give the man a sucker.” Bowie nodded.

“So, what’s the Bootleg Justice on this?” I asked, pouring the first cup. “You kick my ass? You drag her out of here and lecture her on premarital sex? Because I’m going to be pissed off if you think either one of those answers is the right one. I mean, I’d hate to sic my gran and Estelle on you when they get back for embarrassing your adult sister and beating me unconscious and stealing half their shit. They’d be very disappointed in you.”

“What makes you think we’d beat you unconscious?” Gibson asked innocently. He snagged a mug and poured.

“You’re the Bodines. I’ve seen you in action,” I said mildly.

“Why don’t we take our coffee on the deck and talk about this like adults,” Bowie suggested. His amicable tone wasn’t fooling me. But I also didn’t think they were going to kick my ass. At least not with their sister twenty feet away. Scarlett would side with me and fight like a wildcat.

Gibson and Bowie led the way, and Jameson and Jonah brought up the rear, neatly boxing me in.

“Look,” Bowie drawled. “All we want to do is explain that it’s in your best interest not to hurt Scarlett.”

Jameson nodded threateningly.

“Why in the hell would you think I’d hurt her?”

“If she falls for you and then you go back to wherever the hell you’re from, we’re gonna have a problem,” Gibson said, stroking his beard. His stance was deceptively relaxed.

They pounced in unison like backwoods ninjas. Even though I fought it, it was three against one. Gibson and Jameson each grabbed one of my arms and Bowie locked on to my left leg. Jonah was suddenly Mr. Switzerland. He sipped his coffee sheepishly a few feet away from the fray.

“Get his leg, Jonah, before he kicks someone in the balls,” Gibson said.

Jonah looked surprised to be included in the family fight.

“Hurry up, man,” Jameson breathed. “He’s a fighter.”

Jonah put his coffee down and grabbed my flailing leg.

“I really hate all of you right now,” I growled.

They carried me down the deck stairs.

“We’re doing this for your own good,” Bowie said.

“And for our own entertainment,” Gibson added.

“Sorry, man. She’s my sister,” Jonah said.

Jameson grunted.

“So, are Cassidy and Amos back together?” I asked. I felt the second that Bowie’s grip on my leg loosened, and I yanked free, kicking him in the gut.

Gibson hooted. “Serves you right for not keepin’ your eye on the prize, Bow.”

Bowie recovered and wrestled my leg into submission, but at least I felt like I hadn’t gone down without a fight. I heard their footsteps on wood and realized they were carting my ass down my gran’s dock. “Oh, come on, guys. Not the lake.”

“Would you rather a fist to the face?” Jonah asked cheerfully.

“I’m not going to hurt Scarlett!”

“This is just a little reminder of what’ll happen if you do,” Bowie said, still a little winded.

“You don’t need to do this,” I tried again. We were getting closer and closer to the end of the dock.

“Pretty sure we do,” Jameson insisted.

“I’ll press charges!”

“Good luck with that,” Jameson smirked.

“The sheriff is a big fan of our little Scarlett. He’s not gonna take a likin’ to some guy whose just tryin’ to get in her pants,” Bowie explained.

“I’m not just trying to get in her pants!”

“Oh, hey, Judge Carwell. Mornin’ Carolina Rae,” Bowie said, raising his free hand to a couple in a fishing boat.

“Mornin’ Bodines,” Judge Carwell called. “He courtin’ Scarlett?”

“What the hell kind of town is this?” I hissed.

Jonah shrugged and grinned. “Bootleg, man.”

“Yes, sir. We’re just remindin’ him to treat her right,” Gibson said.

“Carry on, boys.”

The judge motored on, not even staying to watch the four Bodines toss my body into the lake.