Page 49 of Bourbon and Lies

I step closer and she must hear me coming because her head turns to the side. A smirk lifts her profile. “Care to join me, cowboy?”

I can’t hide the smile this sight is pulling from me, as I tick down the volume on her portable speaker.

“Looks a little cramped in there, honey.”

Her head turns slightly more, a smile painted on those pretty lips of hers. The curve of her breast peeks out under her arm as she moves. “Not your honey, remember?”

I don’t want to remember anything. I like the way she reacts when I call her that. I stop my steps because as much as I’d love to, I don’t want to take advantage of this situation and see something I know I shouldn’t.Fuck, do I want to, though.

“Fleetwood Mac fan?”

I can see the way her mouth ticks up from the side. “Everyone is a Fleetwood Mac fan.” She takes a bite of her pizza slice. “My dad loved them too. And The Doobie Brothers. He used to get so worked up about them breaking up—it was long before I was around. But he said it was the saddest issue of Rolling Stone he’d ever read.”

What is it about the little details she shares that have me so eager to know more?Thatshouldn’t be so captivating. But the naked, tone-deaf woman sitting in a too-tiny tub and shouting lyrics like she’s Stevie Nicks’s backup singer steals way more of my attention than I’ve been letting on.

“Grant, come and have some snacks with me.”

Shaking my head, I smile to myself. “I’m trying to be a gentleman here, Laney. I think if I come any closer, I’m going to see a whole lot more of you than I should.”

She laughs and makes a mocking shocked noise. “Grant, are you a prude?” She takes a bite of her red licorice. “I’ll be honest, I’m very comfortable being this woman.”

I smile at the admission and a laugh slips out. “And what kind of woman is that?”

The hum she makes sounds wistful. “The kind that doesn’t feel bad about her body. The kind that feels confident in her own skin. The kind that stands up for herself even if she cries about it later.” She tilts her head back, and her eyes find me. “And definitely the kind of woman who doesn’t care what other people think of her anymore.”

I cross my arms over my chest. I’m just slightly behind her and to the left, enough that I can’t see anything but the back of her and the side of her face when she turns her head to see me. “So how’d a woman like that end up topless and in the horse trough?”

She releases a long, exaggerated sigh. “I wanted to take a bath and have a drink. But I opted for what was accessible.” Looking down, she waves around the licorice. Plus, the cottage doesn’t have a bath. You weren’t home. And I didn’t think Julep was going to tell on me.” She points at the dog sitting next to her. “Tattletale.”

Julep lets out a bark, and then puts both her front paws on the tub, leaning in to lick Laney’s face.

Laney squeals and laughs in response.

Seeing that makes me feel...something. Something deeper than attraction. Maybe it was appreciation. Witnessing my dog genuinely respond to another person like that. “I’m going to get you a towel. And then you can tell me what happened. How’s that?”

Her smile this time is softer than the flirtatious grin from a few minutes ago. I rush inside, grab a towel, and I’m back out walking toward her. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see anything. The tops of her tits lift just above the water, but I don’t dare allow myself to look for much longer. I wouldn’t be able to stop. I know my limits, and I’m awfully close to them. Holding the towel up in front of the tub, I wait for her to get out. She manages to find her footing and steps into me with her arms raised above her head, bag of candy in one hand and the crust from her pizza slice in the other.

I don’t care that she drips water all over my boots or the fact that I have to lean into her as I wrap the towel behind her body and tuck it in, holding it in place. She looks up at me with wet lashes that make me notice the little flecks of brown near the irises of her bright blue eyes.Beautiful.

“How chivalrous were you just now, cowboy?”

“You’ve been calling me a cowboy, not a knight.” I wink at her. “Quick peek.” My voice dips lower, quieter, “Was impossible not to.”

“Should we pick up where we left off last night?”

I almost grunt with the way those words hit me right in the dick. And then her blue eyes gaze into mine as she licks at her bottom lip...Fuck, do I want to. But I need more from her. I hate knowing something’s off—and not just whatever happened today, but what had her showing up with a U.S. Marshall in the middle of the night. Until I know more, I can’t have a repeat of last night.

I rub my hand along the seam of my jeans because if I don’t touch something, I’ll take that towel right back and get my fill of her.

She bites at her thumbnail, trying to hold in a smile, then moves toward the chairs around the fire pit. “Am I making something hard?”

Jesus Christ, if she had any idea.I drag my hand along the back of my neck and take a few steps away from where she’s sitting now. Grabbing two pieces of firewood, I toss them into the fire pit, then crouch to fill the space underneath with the kindling starters. I look up at her and the bottle she plucks from her bag. “Mind sharing some of that?”

She holds out the bottle of Foxx 1945.

“This one is Griz’s year.” My fingers drag across hers too slowly for both of us to ignore. I think about looping my hands with hers, propping her on my lap, and licking up the taste of this bourbon from her lips. But I resist, just barely.

“What does that mean, that it’s his year?”

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