“Sounds interesting. Where are you staying while you’re in town? Do you have family here?”

“I rented a cabin on the lake for a month. Hopefully that will be enough time to get all the information I need. The cabin has a deck with a great view, so it will be like a long summer vacation. I don’t plan on working every minute I’m here. Since I’m a freelancer, I don’t punch a time clock.”

“Good to hear,” he says. “Maybe I can help you out with your story. What kind of Southern traditions are you writing about?”

“I haven’t decided yet. The magazine has expressed some interest in moonshiners, so I’ll probably start there.”

Sam wipes his mouth with a napkin and takes a sip of his coffee.

“Moonshine stills are illegal,” he says. “Nobody around here is going to be willing to talk to a big city writer. You probably should think of something else to write about. Quilting or canning green beans might be good.”

“What if I had a local person to help me out with an introduction?”

“Are you talking about me?” He leans back and looks surprised. “What would make you think I know any local moonshiners?”

“Do you?”

“I might know a couple of people who still make hooch,” he says slowly. “If you want the info, it’s going to cost you though. If I arrange to make these introductions, you have to go on a date with me this weekend.”

Well, that was easy and unexpectedly fast. Things are going much better than planned. I was counting on having to play the cat and mouse game with Sam for a while longer. It was completely on impulse that I threw the moonshiners into the conversation, mostly out of curiosity to see what he would say.

I’ve heard of reality shows featuring Georgia moonshiners but didn’t think they really existed. And if they do, the ATF would be very interested in their activities.

“Is this date going to be an interview for sex?” I ask. “Because if it is, I’m not interested.”

He gives me a hurt look.

“Of course not,” he says then smiles again. “You’ve already got the job if you want it. No formal interview necessary.”

“I don’t want it,” I say firmly. “And I’m not looking for a relationship either. Just so you know.”

“Good,” he replies. “Neither am I.”

“So what are you after?”

He reaches across the table and rubs the back of my hand with his thumb.

“You’ll find out.”

My breath catches in my throat. I pull my hand back out of his reach.

“So how soon can you take me to meet these people?” I ask.