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“Well,” I began, trying to keep myself from leaning back down again, “place as small as this, you gotta be as friendly as you can, y’know?”
My heart almost skipped a beat when I realized what I’d just said, and hurriedly kept going. “Anyway, can’t see much of anything wrong with the engine. Lemme take a look around the back.”
I thought I saw him stiffen a little as I turned to walk around the covered pickup truck.
“Oh, that’s not necessary, miss,” he started. “Come to think of it, I was running low on gas last I checked, but I’ve got a spare can in the back. I can take care of it.”
There’d been a sudden shift in his voice.
“Well shoot, why’d you even bother poppin’ the hood then?” I smirked playfully at him. “Here, I’ll grab it for you.” You’re only being polite, after all, I told myself, nothing wrong with helping a nice fella out, right?
“No, really—” he started to say, and I didn’t realize he’d hurried to the back of the truck with me until I was pulling the hatch open…
…and inside was a huge load of jugs filled to the brim with clear liquid that sparkled in the afternoon sun.
He was running moonshine.
There was a long silence as I stared at it all, half in awe. The stranger just stood there beside me, eventually putting a hand over his mouth and propping himself against his truck with an arm.
He had reason to be embarrassed. There was enough smuggled moonshine in the back of this truck to rake him in a tidy profit. Or land his ass in the county jail for a tidy sentence. I knew all about the money there was in running the stuff across state lines—my sister ran with a pretty rough crowd before she took off for the city.
“Gas, huh?” I heard myself say, and I felt a pang of fear after the words left my mouth. What was I saying?! This guy was a smuggler!
“Alright, listen,” he said, his voice much more firm than it had been a moment ago. I looked to him and realized he was standing over me, looming with keen, hungry eyes that pierced right into me even as they held my attention. “I can tell you’re a smart gal, so I won’t pretend like this isn’t what it looks like.”
I gave him a suspicious look as his eyes darted to the road for an instant. Even when he wasn’t looking at me, he seemed to hold me in place without touching me.
“All I’m doing,” he continued, “is bringing some of the best booze this county’s ever seen to a place where honest folk like me and you can get a hold of it. Just making a living off good service, just like you,” he nodded back up the road, where one of the barns was visible.
I followed his gaze, but my attention jerked back to him as I felt a rough, calloused hand on my arm and smelled the man’s faint musk as he drew a little closer to me. A shiver ran through me, and I wasn’t sure whether I was afraid, or…
“You’ve got an awfully kind heart, coming out and helping a stranger like me,” he almost whispered. He seemed so close, and I suddenly felt vulnerable out here on the road, but there was something inexplicably reassuring in his words. “You don’t seem like the kinda gal who cares much for getting the law involved in stuff like this, so why don’t you just take one of these jugs with you? Least I could do in thanks for a little roadside help.”
I swallowed hard, pulling back from his grasp and holding one arm in the other, meeting his eyes in a steady gaze. He was brazen, that was for sure, offering a bribe of contraband just like that. I’d never been much of a drinker, but I had heard some folks say that good moonshine was hard to pass up.
Of course, I knew something that could get this tough guy arrested. Could help clean this county up right here and now by just waiving the offer away and turning him in. Something, though, nagging at the back of my mind, was flirting with a different idea, and I was silent for a few moments.
“Don’t much matter,” I finally admitted, guilt burning in my chest as I decided to make myself an accessory to bootlegging. “We’re a small county, and when your truck backfired earlier, it was loud enough that they’ll have heard you from a mile around.”
I broke away from his gaze as I saw his face go still, and I kicked at the ground a little as I continued, “With a disturbance like that, I reckon the sheriff’s on his way already.”
The stranger stepped away, running a hand through his hair as he looked around, cursing under his breath. “Fuck, you sure about that?” He turned back to me with sudden suspicion and fired, “If you’re just trying to get me rattled—”
“I’d be doing a good job of it,” I found myself bold enough to laugh back, and before his face could go completely red I held up a hand and added, “but seriously, I dunno what’s the matter with your truck, but if you don’t want to spend the night in the county jail, mister…”
“Jason,” he half-growled, approaching me expectantly as I spoke.
“Jason. I don’t reckon I can fix up whatever’s wrong with your ride in this short a time, but you don’t have much more than ten minutes to disappear.”
He looked dumbfounded, and he put his hands behind his head, letting out a long, unhappy breath as he leaned against the truck.
I could read his thoughts on his face: do I believe the bitch and leave all my product behind, or do I not believe her and risk getting caught?
I figured that was the gist, anyway. Folks like him weren’t too polite even under the best of circumstances, and this one was already on edge.
Then his eyes got a fiery glint in them and he turned to me again, giving me a quick once-over.
“Hey, you are from that farm up the road, aren’t you?”
