Epilogue
DEVLIN
I was already awake when Scarlett’s alarm went off. Today was a big day, not that Scarlett Bodine let anyone forget that it was finally her thirtieth birthday. Four years together, I thought, rolling to my side, and I was finally going to ask her to marry me.
Her brothers had given me their perfunctory approval ages ago. It was totally ceremonial—they’d dunked my ass in the lake again—but I was a part of them now. And it was time to make it official.
Scarlett stirred when I dragged her up against me, kissing her bare shoulder.
The morning light poured through the windows facing the lake.
We’d built this home together, Scarlett doing a good portion of the work herself and teaching me a few things along the way.
And every damn day, I counted my blessings when I pulled up the long drive.
Everything I cared about most in this life was here.
The ring was in the drawer of my nightstand. I’d thought of a million ways to do this over the past four years. As with everything involving Scarlett, I had a Plan A, B, C, and D on top. It was a necessity when your girlfriend was as unpredictable and wild as Scarlett.
My soon-to-be fiancée let out an inelegant snort and sat straight up. “Christ on a cracker! What time is it?”
“It’s early,” I said, propping myself on my elbow and watching her spring naked from the bed. “What’s the hurry, birthday girl?”
She paused mid-hop as she dragged on a pair of cutoffs and grinned at me.
“I’ve got birthday things to attend to. Hair, massage, and facials with the girls,” she said. She hopped in my direction and laid a kiss on me that turned my morning wood into a raging hard-on.
“What about me? Don’t I get to spend your day with you?” I asked.
Her grin was as honeyed as her accent. “Don’t you worry, Dev. You’ll be the highlight of my big day.”
“We have dinner plans,” I reminded her.
“Oh, those mysterious dinner plans you’ve been reminding me about?” She winked. “I’ll make sure I’m showered, sexy, and ready for action.”
I was ready for action now. I climbed out of bed, my cock demanding her full attention.
“Uh-uh. You keep that sex stick away from me. I gotta go.” Scarlett grabbed a bra and tank top and half-ran to the bathroom, slamming the door in my face. “Nice try, honey,” she called through the door.
Plan A—a sweet, romantic, quiet, naked gesture—was officially defunct.
Undeterred, I grabbed a pair of gym shorts and ambled down the hall toward the kitchen. The house was the perfect mingling of McCallister and Bodine.
There were windows everywhere they could be squeezed into the design. The entire back of the house was one panoramic lake view. There was a study off the front door for me, and Scarlett used the formal room on the opposite side as her disaster of an office.
We had five bedrooms perfect for overnight visits with my parents and our future “pack of kids.” The living space and kitchen were one big room, which made entertaining easy.
The huge mountain stone fireplace in the living room gave Scarlett the excuse she was looking for to host monthly “indoor bonfires” in the middle of winter.
I opened the fridge and collected the ingredients for my protein shake. My phone buzzed on the counter.
Cassidy Bodine: Are y’all engaged yet???
I shook my head. It was going to be a long-ass day if I couldn’t pin down my fireball girlfriend and put a ring on her little finger. All of Bootleg Springs was waiting for the signal and then the town would descend upon our backyard for the biggest, craziest bonfire Scarlett had ever seen.
I heard her jogging down the hallway, bare feet slapping on the hardwood.
“I’m late, honey. Otherwise I’d be demanding my presents,” she said, rising on tip toe to kiss my cheek.
I grabbed a handful of her shirt and pulled her in and up for a birthday-worthy kiss.
Scarlett melted into me, but before I could revive Plan A, she was wriggling out of my grasp. “Nice try, hot stuff! To be continued!”
She disappeared in the direction of the garage and left me with my protein shake and another unsatisfied hard-on.
I hefted the canoe over my head, droplets of water raining down on me, and headed for the lake.
Scarlett and I had been through it all in the last four years.
Her brothers’ weddings, endless nights of making love, fiery arguments, soft conversations under the stars, lazy Sundays on the lake, not to mention the investigation that we’d all finally moved on from.
Scarlett Bodine had saved me from a life I’d thought I wanted.
She’d picked me back up at my lowest point, and then two years ago, she’d stood next to me, trembling with pride in her cowboy boots when I was sworn in as Olamette County Judge.
She’d campaigned so hard for me I think most folks were afraid not to vote for me.
And so Ol’ Judge Carwell was able to retire, and I stepped into my own courtroom.
It wasn’t Washington, D.C.—my courtroom had six deer heads mounted on the wall above the bench—but I was happier than I’d ever been.
Happier than I would have been. And my parents were vaguely less disappointed now that they had a judge in the family.
They just tended to leave out the “county” part of my title.
And they’d warmed up to Scarlett, which I’d had no doubt would happen.
The woman could thaw the coldest of hearts with her sweet smiles and honeyed drawl.
And if that didn’t work, she bull-headedly wore down every rough edge she encountered until the other party couldn’t remember a time when they didn’t love Scarlett.
I eased the canoe down onto the sandy beach and shoved it into the shallow lake water. Lashing the lead ropes to the dock, I tossed the quilts and the picnic basket into the belly of the canoe.
The beer cooler came next. I patted my front pocket, reassuring myself that the ring was still in its place.
“Mornin’.” Jonah, Scarlett’s half-brother sauntered across the lawn, his hands in the pockets of his athletic shorts. “ Thought I’d drop by and see if you needed any help setting up for the bonfire tonight,” he said.
My phone rang, and I picked it up off the dock.
“Hey, Scarlett.”
“I’m grabbing lunch with the girls,” she chirped.
“Oh. Uh.” I eyed the engagement canoe. “Okay. When will you be back?”
“I’m not real sure. Just called to tell you I miss you, and I’ll see you tonight for dinner.”
Well, hell. Plan B had just taken a steaming crap. “Try to be back by five,” I said, hoping I sounded casual and not disappointed and panicked.
“I think I can manage that,” she said, cheerfully unaware that she was ruining the biggest day of our life.
“You are coming back, right?” Hell, what if after all these years she’d gotten cold feet? I felt my stomach do a slow roll.
Her laugh was husky. “Why, your honor, you know you’re the one I want to spend my birthday night with. In fact, if I were you, I’d spend the afternoon hydrating and stretching.”
“Promise?” I said softly.
“I promise, Dev. I can’t wait to celebrate with you, and I’ll be thinking about you all afternoon. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I said, mostly appeased.
“Just remember who said it first,” she sang before hanging up.
I swore quietly and stared down at the canoe of romance. “Well, shit.”
“Problem?” Jonah asked.
“Scarlett’s spending the afternoon with her friends.”
Jonah ran a hand through his dark hair. “Yeah, she rounded up the girls for a spa day and lunch and whatever.”
The girls were the women the Bodine men and I had fallen for.
I wasn’t the only man to show up in Bootleg only to get blindsided by love.
The last few years had been a whirlwind of lust, love, and a shit ton of weddings, some of which I’d presided over.
I’d been hoping to add my own to the list. And it was looking like the universe—or worse, Scarlett Bodine herself—was conspiring against me.
“You were going to propose in a canoe?” Jonah asked.
I shrugged. “I thought a picnic lunch and some time at the hot springs would be… you know… romantic and nostalgic.”
Jonah nodded. “Yeah, totally.” His gaze landed on the picnic basket. “Shame for it to go to waste.”
I had half a pound of Scarlett’s favorite chicken salad, a six-pack of cold beer, and three or four hours to kill before my parents showed up to celebrate the engagement that wasn’t.
“You wanna go?” I asked Jonah.
He shrugged. “Got an extra pair of trunks?”
Scarlett was definitely avoiding me. Jonah and I worked up a sweat paddling over to the secret hot springs where we ate my engagement lunch and talked sports, women, and work.
Jonah’s personal training business was the perfect complement to Bootleg’s day spas.
Tourists could spend their morning sweating through a lakefront boot camp and then stuff their faces at any of the town’s dining establishments before having the kinks worked out at one of the half-dozen spas in town.
I had a few kinks of my own now. My shoulders were tight with worry that Scarlett was avoiding me or skipping town or getting arrested again. I was beyond ready to make our love “official.” And I thought she’d felt the same way. I couldn’t have misread the last four years. Could I?
The catering crew showed up as we were unloading the canoe. Jonah volunteered to direct them so I could shower. By the time I came out with wet hair and clean clothes—the ring safely tucked in my front pocket again—my parents were pulling up the drive, and the Bodines had descended upon our house.
Gibson and Jameson were stocking the fire pit with wood.
Bowie was carrying my mother’s full-sized suitcase.
The woman was staying for thirty-six hours and had packed as if she were going to Paris for a week.
My father was poking his nose in all the covered dishes the caterers set up in the kitchen.
My gran and her girlfriend Estelle were pouring everyone who walked through the door little cups of strawberry moonshine.