Page 56 of Bourbon and Secrets

They cramped my style. I wanted to kiss you goodbye.

I’m smiling at the message without even realizing it until I hear, “So you’re slamming Lincoln Foxx?” Maggie startles me as she leans against the front doorway.

Fuck my life.I tilt my head back, puff out my cheeks, and groan internally. It’s not even worth lying about this. She was clearly home. “Technically, no.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Sounded like trash pandas being attacked out here.”

I flip her off.

“Slamming? No. Dry humping and making out with? Yes.” I leave out the public finger-bang. I don’t think she needs that little detail.

She barks out a laugh. And I can’t help but glance at her and crack a smile from hearing it. “Is it something?” I search for what she might be asking. “With Lincoln. Is it something?”

“Feels like it.”

She holds her cup of tea between both hands and looks out to the cornfield, letting what I just admitted linger in the cold for a few beats. “Just be careful. Everyone who falls for one of those men usually ends up...”

“Ends up what, Maggie?” I say with an uncomfortable laugh.

“Just some townie gossip, that’s all.” She turns back into the house just as she adds, “Never mind, it doesn’t apply to tourists.”

Chapter 19

Faye

All my hardwork and long nights of watching and placating Brock Blackstone led to this event. It was why I came back to Fiasco in the first place. And yet here I was, at 4 p.m. the evening of this private auction, about to waltz into a small-town boutique shop and hope for something that would match what I needed.

Loni’s Boutique is nestled right in between Fiasco Flowers and Fiasco Creamery, but when I cross the threshold, I’m pleasantly surprised by the displays of trendy sweaters laid out in an ombre of greens to blues. But it’s the dressmaker’s bodice to the left side of the room near the lingerie table that’s draped in the kind of dress tonight calls for. Sexy, elegant, and meticulously constructed. The soft pink layers of chiffon hug the dress stand as the light picks up the shimmer from each crystal bead sewn intermittently from the bodice and straps down to the thigh-length skirt. Its straps are so thin they almost look nonexistent except for the way the crystals shine. Their lengthand position allow for the dress to drape low in the front, showing off the perfect amount of décolletage.

“It’s beautiful,” Lily says, sliding up next to me.

I do a double take, not having noticed she’s standing beside me. “Hi—” Looking behind her, I see Laney following, with Grant stuffing his hands in his pockets just as the door closes. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Lark wanted to see if any new band shirts came in since last time,” the youngest Foxx says, rolling her eyes. “I like that dress. Are you going to get it?”

I smile at her, and her Aunt Laney gives me a wave as she comes closer. “It’s too pretty not to.”

The store owner comes over and asks, “If you’d like, I can do some quick alterations.”

“That would be amazing.”

“Alright, let me move some things around in my dressing room, and then we’ll get you all set. I think it’ll look perfect on your figure,” she says.

“Is that for one of your performances?” Laney asks.

I glance toward Grant, who’s watching the both of us. He was always good at intimidation. I remember that from when he had done one of the training sessions at the academy—he was one of the few K9 officer units in this part of the state when he was with the department. It felt like I was about to get an interrogation from him, or at the very least, the promise of questions sooner rather than later.

It’s not a complete lie when I say, “A performance I’ve been planning, but apparently I forgot the most important piece.”

“Laney!” Lily calls out from the back of the shop.

When I look at Grant, I can tell that he’s trying to piece things together about me. I don’t think it’s possible that Lincoln’s left him in the dark completely.

He clears his throat. “You know, Del told me how he kept in touch with you. Helped him out here and there on some work while you were down in, where was it?”

Crossing my arms, I smile at him, answering easily, “Louisiana. They needed someone to talk with a handful of people who had been performing at a club. Jog their memory about things they had seen, but maybe hadn’t registered as suspicious.”

“We never really lose that edge, do we?” he asks. “No matter if we retire or turn to something else, we always have a gut feeling or instinct when something feels off.”

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