Page 30 of Bourbon and Proof

“There are plenty of ways I can make my daughter’s world a helluva lot more complicated. And don’t think I won’t find a way to do it.” He paused for a moment before letting out a short laugh. “And just like that,” Wheeler said, snapping his fingers. “I’ve found the one thing a Foxx wants most.”

I take another step back so that there isn’t a single part of me touching any part of her.

The easy smile and warmth that emanate from her are sucked away and replaced by a rigid stance. Her shoulders push back, hands shifting into fists and anchoring onto the curve of her hips. But there isn’t hurt or impatience resting on her face—or even regret. Instead, her puffy, smudged lips hold a knowing smirk. She licks at her bottom lip and, fuck, I liked it so much more when it was my tongue licking there instead.

There are plenty of things to say. Meaningless filler words that she’s already reading loud and clear with my body language alone. This isn’t about her ridiculous question anymore. This is about us. The teasing and jokes she’s made, the glimpses of her I tried to make sure went unnoticed. Flirty promises from her bratty mouth and my dominating urge to see a woman as strong and charismatic as her submit to me. My quiet obsession.Usisn’t an option.

She scoffs and shakes her head. On an eye roll, she says, “Okay, Ace. Whatever you say, Daddy. You know what’s best.”Ah, fuck.

I shift my stance, instantly feeling like there’s no right way to play this. I watch as she moves in quick steps toward her horse, grabbing the reins and mounting the all-white thoroughbred mare. The horse’s coloring is as unique as her.

She’s the only other person I know who rides as hard and fast as I do. My brothers take it easy on their horses, but Hadley and I like to push. She likes to see what these beauties can do when given the chance. It’s the part of her I’ve always seen—power and radiance that simply needs to know what it feels like to run. Standing in silence, I watch her ride away. The thrum of the river barely registers against the blood rushing in my ears and the sound of hooves moving at speed away from the river’s edge.

I have no strategy, no move or gambit. Bending forward, I brace my hands on my knees, half out of breath and dizzy, while my other half is ready for a fight. “Fuck!”

Chapter 12

Ace

There are always firsts.I’m the first son, first grandson. The first to know bad news. The first to deliver it. The first time I watched a man bleed from his stomach and die on the bathroom floor, all I could think of was that being another first. Part of me knew that it wasn’t going to be the last and only, not with the way my father rushed past me, shouting for Griz to get his ass in there. Firsts had value and meaning more tangible than the rest. Lines are as gray as the morals deciding what’s inherently good or bad. It took me a long time to understand the role I would play in all of it.

This is the first time someone asked me to marry them.

I blow out a breath, letting a smile escape while thinking about it. She fucking asked me to marry her. Like that would be a perfect solution and not the source of an even bigger mess.

“I suppose you’re not making me breakfast anymore,” Griz interrupts, sidling up to the long kitchen counter. I pluck a clementine from the fruit drawer and roll it to him.

His shoulders jump with a laugh that never surfaces from his mouth.

I cross my arms over my chest, head tilted his way. “Change the fucking stipulation.”

“Look at that. It’s Wednesday. Hooch’s does a mean stuffed French toast on Wednesdays,” he says as he meanders out of the kitchen, whistling a Bob Dylan song instead of answering my demand. People don’t make stipulations on inheritances or businesses based on marriage—it feels like a bad 90s movie that my sisters-in-law would watch.

“Fuck!” I whisper-shout, dragging my fingers from the front of my hair to the nape of my neck. I’ve gone nearly forty-three years without wanting to be married. It wasn’t a part of my story—I didn’t want to settle for someone I didn’t want.

“You will not go near her.”Wheeler’s threat has replayed in my mind over the last ten years, and every time, it’s chipped away at the idea of wanting someone for keeps.

Shaking my head, I run my thumb along my lower lip, where she nipped and kissed. There isn’t going to be another first like that one—and I’ve been at war with what I do next. The smart, logical part of me knows I made the right call. As fucked as it was, pulling away from her was the only thing keeping me from ripping her clothes off and fucking her right out in the open, in that spot.

“We need to talk about what happened,” Lincoln interrupts as he walks into the kitchen.

“We don’t,” I clap back. “You just show up now?”

“What’s for breakfast?” he asks, looking at my cup of coffee and jar of overnight oats.

“Not making you breakfast,” I mumble over a bite.

“In a great mood this morning, I see...” he mumbles as he grabs one of the jars out of the fridge. He takes a seat, lounges back, and then stares at me like it’s my turn to talk. Truthfully,I’m not ready to talk to either of my brothers about it, because I don’t have a solid plan or a response that’s not completely reckless—like marrying his best friend.

“What?” I bark out.

“You just had a whole conversation in there, didn’t you?” Smiling, he points to his temple. He pulls off his glasses and rubs along the bridge of his nose. “We’re not going to push you out or try to run this place without you, Ace. You don’t honestly think Grant and I want to box you out of what is basically your show.”

Releasing a heavy breath, I lean on the counter. “That’s not the point. He wants to tie things up, but for what reason? And yeah, I want my piece of this place, but that part I can handle.” It’s a confident response wrapped in a lie.

Lincoln steeples his fingers in front of him, looking at me as if that’ll get me to say more.

A thought dawns on me, my mouth going dry, knowing that my brother and Hadley rarely have secrets between them. “Have you talked to Hadley?”

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