“Is this even legal?” Devlin asked as we stepped inside the darkened interior of Bootleg Distillery.

It was 11 p.m. on a Sunday night. The distillery was quiet as a church on Monday.

“Almost entirely,” I promised, turning on the lights. “Besides, it’s tradition.”

Jameson propped the back door open with a cinderblock, and Jonah waved Gibson’s pickup truck up to the building.

Gibs hopped out and, with a flourish, yanked the tarp off the bed of the truck.

“I really feel like this is illegal,” Devlin said, eyeing the six five-gallon glass carboys fitted into a custom wooden divider.

Gibson slapped him on the shoulder. “Relax. We’re not the ones distilling it. We provide the mash.”

“Great-granddaddy Jedidiah’s recipe,” Jameson said, picking up the thread of the story and lowering the tailgate.

“Ya see here, gentlemen,” I said in my best Southern drawl. “We Bodines mix up Pappy Jedididah’s corn mash recipe, deliver it under the cover of night to the distillery, and then Sonny Fullson’s uncle Remus turns it into a big ol’ batch of moonshine for Bootleggers to flavor up for the contest.”

“What contest?” Jonah asked. Jonah and Devlin were gearing up for their very first Thanksgiving in Bootleg Springs.

Gibson hopped up into the bed of the truck and hefted the first bottle. “Black Friday Moonshine Tasting Contest,” he said.

Devlin and Jonah shared a look that very clearly said “What the fuck?”.

Jameson took the carboy from Gibson and headed into the distillery.

“We don’t have a license to distill,” I explained, reaching for the next bottle. “So we deliver the mash by darkness and let the distillery make it up all legal like. Then the contestants buy it, doctor it up, and we have ourselves a midnight tasting contest on Black Friday.”

Devlin looked relieved. “And we’re not breaking and entering, correct?”

Gibson jingled the keys cheerfully. He was always happiest just skirting the legal side of things.

“We Bodines have a reputation to uphold,” I told him solemnly. “Pappy Jedidiah would have a fit if we rolled up in broad daylight and made a legal delivery. We’re honoring our heritage.”

“And now you’re one of us,” Gibson said, shoving a five-gallon jug into Devlin’s chest.

“Ooof.” Devlin stumbled under the weight before recovering.

“Inside with the rest of ‘em,” Gibs directed.

We unloaded the jugs and lined them up in front of the still, a modern marvel compared to the copper monstrosity Great-grandad Jedidiah had used in his day.

In keeping with tradition, Remus had lined up mugs on the bar for each of us, and I was pleased to see he’d included enough for Devlin and Jonah. That was the thing about Bootleg Springs. You always knew you belonged.

Gibson ducked behind the slab of live edge cherry to play bartender.

“How was Cassidy feeling after Girls Night?” Devlin asked, accepting the crisp lager Gibson poured for him.

I grinned. “Rough around the edges. Jonah here poisoned her with some hangover cure that made her puke her guts up for ten minutes straight.”

Jonah flashed us a smile. “Happy to help.”

Gibs finished doling out beers and pulled a root beer for himself.

“Did she enjoy the pictures?” Devlin asked.

“No. No, she did not.”

“Y’all are movin’ in slow motion,” Jameson complained.

“Through no fault of my own this time,” I argued. “She’s more stubborn than Scarlett when she puts her mind to something.”

“And she’s put her mind to not datin’ you?” Gibson asked.

“I’m lucky if she’ll say dog to me. Frankly at this point, I don’t know if I should wind my ass or scratch my watch. Not only is she pissed at me, that detective is running herd on her for being tight with us.”

“That’s bullshit,” Jonah argued.

“He took her off the investigation, telling her he can’t trust her objectivity.”

“I take it Scarlett doesn’t know since the detective is still among the living?” Devlin asked.

“Let’s go kick his ass,” Gibson suggested.

“Been awhile since I punched anyone in the face,” Jameson mused.

My brothers were mostly kidding.

“I don’t know what to do. If I keep forcing the idea of dating, I’m basically asking her to give up her career for me.”

“And why should she trust you to do that?” Jonah filled in.

“Exactly.” I nodded into my beer. “I’m torn in two. I don’t want to put her in some situation where she might lose her job. But I’ve already wasted a good long time. If we keep waiting on the right opportunity, it might never come.”

“Connelly’s not gonna be here forever,” Devlin pointed out. “Sooner or later the case will either break or go cold again.”

I sat there with that. What would it do to me and Cass if the case broke and Jonah Bodine, Sr. was found responsible for Callie’s disappearance? I could feel my brothers thinking along the same lines.

“When are you gettin’ Leah Mae a ring?” I asked Jameson, trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe if I got one for Cass she’d finally give me the time of day.”

“Christ. Bow. You don’t propose to a woman to get her to like you,” Gibson pointed out.

“Like you would know, Mr. Nothing More Serious Than a Quick Roll After Closing Time.”

Gibson leveled me with a look. “I don’t tell you shitheads everything.”

We oohed and ahhed him good-naturedly.

“Alls I’m sayin’ is there are ways to get a girl to notice you.”

“I’ve tried every other thing under the sun. I’ve tried gifts. I’ve tried bein’ nice. I bailed her out of jail. Hell, I even tried some friendly blackmail, thinkin’ it would at least get a rise out of her. She says she needs time to think about it.”

“Sounds like it’s time to call in the big guns,” Gibson said. My permanently single brother was suddenly the Oprah of relationships.

“Big guns?” Jonah asked cautiously.

“Not like gun guns. Psychological warfare,” Jameson explained.

“When is she most vulnerable?” Gibson asked.

A slow grin stretched across my face. “When I’m kissin’ her.”

“Then keep kissin’ her. Every opportunity you get. Reach out and touch her every couple of minutes.” Gibson demonstrated by stroking his arm down Devlin’s.

“Dating here is very different than where I’m from,” Devlin observed, taking a big swallow of beer. “In Annapolis, you ask a woman out, take her to dinner, or an event. Talk about whether you’re compatible.”

“And that worked so well for you with Johanna,” Jonah said dryly.

Johanna was Devlin’s ex-wife who’d set her sights on higher aspirations and cheated her way out of their marriage. Scarlett had nearly come to blows with the woman and her string of pearls when she’d strolled into town demanding a second chance.

Devlin gave a shudder. “Okay, your way is definitely better. So how do we get Bowie and Cassidy together without costing her her job?”

“I’m all ears.”

Everyone shut up and drank, wheels turning.

“Cass wants to end up like her parents. Meanwhile, I can’t think of anything worse than ending up like ours,” I said, breaking the silence.

“You ever miss Mom?” Jameson asked quietly.

“Sometimes. Like when the leaves start changing. Remember how much she loved fall? She’d be in a good mood for as long as the leaves were changing.”

“Apple cider and hot dogs over the campfire for dinner,” Gibson said. I didn’t know my brother had any good memories of our childhood.

“Remember that time that Dad built the slingshot and we spent a whole weekend chucking pumpkins into the lake?” I asked.

“It wasn’t all bad,” Jameson said.

“It should have been a hell of a lot better,” Gibson said bitterly.

Sensing the turn in the mood, Jonah piped up. “Hey, what if you convinced Cass to secretly date you?”

I frowned. “What?”

“If no one knows you two are seeing each other then she can’t get canned for seeing you, can she?” he spelled it out.

“Jonah, you’ve been here a few months. How in the hell is anyone supposed to keep any secret ‘round here?” Jameson asked.

“Think about it, they already practically live together,” Jonah argued.

“And if you were hellbent on the dinner and a movie crap you could take her out of town,” Gibson added, stroking a hand over his chin.

“Isn’t sneaking around kind of high school?” I asked. “And I want more.”

“Do you love the girl?” Gibson asked.

I nodded.

“Are you stupid in love with the girl?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I was, and it felt damn good to say it.

“Then get her to say yes.”