Page 11 of Bourbon and Lies

Opening the small refrigerator, she says, “No need to worry. If you two are enjoying each other.” She stops what she’s doing for a second. “I’ve known Ace almost my whole life. His brother Lincoln is my best friend.”

I ignore the remark about enjoying Ace and ask, “He’s the oldest?”

“Yes. Then Lincoln. He has two little girls, Lark and Lily. And you already met Griz, I assume?”

I can’t help but smile as I nod yes, thinking about the welcome drink he brought me in the middle of the night.

I notice how she doesn’t mention a wife or mother of his daughters in that rundown. “Does Lincoln have a partner, or?”

“Widower,” she says, her face turning sad. “It's been just him and the girls now for...” She pauses, grabbing a few more items from a grocery bag that looks like pears, strawberries, and some green lettuce. “Farmer’s market from this morning.” Holding out a small yellow berry for me to try, she pops one in her mouth. “Gooseberry. They’re good.” Chewing hers, she looks up. “Liv, or Olivia, Lincoln’s wife, and the girls’ mom, passed away about four years ago now.” She looks up, as if trying to recall. “Yeah, that was a year after Fiona.”

How am I supposed to keep track of all these people?

This isn’t a borough or even a suburb. It’s a small town. Small towns mean that everyone knows everyone’s business to some degree. I can’t understand why Agent Harper thought this was a good idea.

“And then there’s Grant.”

The cowboy.“Any chance he rides a horse?”

“Most people around here do. I have a thoroughbred boarding here, actually. Everyone knows someone in the horse business. Why?”

“I think I met him this morning.” I gnaw at my bottom lip, thinking about the way he was kind of rude. And how he filledout that t-shirt he was wearing, and stared at my bare legs, trying to catch a glimpse of my ass when I asked him if his honest favor would have me smiling or moaning. Why was it so much fun to say what I wanted and then see his reaction?

She looks past me and peers out the front double window. “He lives right down the hill from you. He’s not the most social of this crew, so I doubt you’ll see him all that much.”

That’s disappointing to hear. The last thing I should be thinking about is the way he rode in on a damn horse and was nothing short of arrogant, but I liked how it felt to dish it back.

“I can almost guarantee that you will see Julep on your front lawn from time to time. She loves to wander. But she’s Grant’s girl, so don’t feel bad if she snubs you.”

“Dog, right? Not daughter?”

She laughs. “Dog. No kids.”

I like getting the rundown from her. She talks to me like we’re already friends. And truthfully, a friendship sounds nice. Our conversation feels like playing catch-up from a place I haven’t visited in a long while, not somewhere I had never been.

She asks, “What about you?”

I unzip a bag of sheets for the bed. “No dog. Always wanted one. No kids. The jury is still out if that’s something I’d really want.” The silky black satin is nicer than any sheets I’ve ever bought myself. “What do I owe you for this?”

She bats at the air in front of her. “A drink.” And, before I can interject, she adds, “I can swing it.” She points to her chest. “Rich girl.”

I stare at her for a second, surprised by the honesty, and take in her appearance. It’s not a typical response, especially from the stuffy rich people I was used to being around. She just said it; didn’t flaunt it. And I respect that so much more. She doesn’t scream stuffy or stuck-up. Her white Converse sneakers match her tucked-in tank. There are no designer labels, only a baseballjersey that hangs open like it was a short-sleeved jacket. Maybe it’s a collector’s item. Since I’m not a baseball fan, the last name Turner doesn’t mean all that much to me.

She sees that I’m trying to figure her out, or at the very least figuring out how to respond. I’m being a judgmental twat, just like the people who used to do it to me wordlessly.

“I spend my money on things I like and not what people presume to be expensive and nice. I have a wardrobe to die for, with everything from Walmart and Duluth to Louboutins and Saint Laurent.” She pulls at the front of the baseball jersey. “Signed. I went all the way to Maine for it. It means something to me.” She clears her throat before I can ask any more. “My family does very well. I own my own business. So when I say that the best payment is good company, I really mean it.”

The way that sounds so genuine makes me smile. “What kind of business?”

She hops up on the counter, and her long legs swing as she pops a grape in her mouth. “My family is in the business of horses. We raise, breed, and train thoroughbreds with a long history of producing Triple Crown winners. But my business is booze. I always thought I should have been born a Foxx for that reason,” she says wistfully. “I own the best damn speakeasy in Kentucky.” When she smiles this time, obvious pride beams from her face.

Owning something like that takes time, money, and real love. It’s impressive. She’s impressive, and I think I have a bit of a crush on her.

She pops another grape in her mouth. “Opened Midnight Proof a few years ago. I turned thirty and decided it was the one thing I kept saying I wanted to do.” She shrugs. “So I did it. And my father was not the biggest fan, but I’m not the quiet little debutant everyone thinks I am. So I couldn’t blame him for pushing back on the idea.” Batting at the air in front of her,she says, “That’s enough about me.” Then she’s pulling a bottle of Foxx Bourbon from her oversized purse like it’s a completely acceptable thing to do. “You’re living at the world’s best bourbon distillery. You needed a bottle, so I snagged it from the main house. Ace said essentials. I consider it an essential.”

Clapping her hands together, she jumps down. “Okay, I feel like I’ve barreled into your life without much permission.” She smiles, reflecting the same one I’ve been sporting since she arrived. “So, I can get lost and come back another time. Let you get settled. Or you can escape with me briefly, and we can tour the distillery.”

Chapter 7

---