Page 64 of Bourbon and Secrets

Pointing at me, she bites back her smile. “Not the point, Foxx. And yes, ‘nerdlesque’ is a real thing. Some of the costumes”—she purposely bites her lip—“Very delicious. And I’m only saying that I feel like you’ve allowed me to see glimpses of you that not many people have.”

I unclip my cufflinks. “Maybe that’s true.” Taking a moment to let what she just brought up linger, I fold and then roll up each sleeve. “You ready to tell me what you were doing there tonight? It looked like a different kind of performance.”

She stays quiet, and then drags her small bag across the bar top, feeling around inside of and then removes a long grayish-brown rock and places down on the bar. “I need a little courage right now,” she says, flipping it over to the side with jagged-purple gems. My chest warms as I swallow, feeling along the rough expanse of the rock that my daughter gave to her.

“They like how you talk to them.” I brush my fingers along hers.

“How do I talk to them?” she asks with a tilt of her head.

“I don’t know.” I smile and joke. “Maybe you can give me some pointers.” I watch as she stares off, smiling. “The first day they found you on the porch, they told me afterwards that you listen to them. And treat them like you want to know them. Something like that.”

“I think your girls are badasses. They have these unique interests and just say what they feel,” she says, and I smile, thinking about how fearless they are to let all of it show. “No apologies about who they are—takes some people a lifetime to do that...I think Lark is unsure about me, but I get it. I’ve been there. Needing to be wildly protective of a parent.” When she smiles at me this time, it fucking makes my knees weak.

“Is that what you did?” I ask. I know there’s more to that night in the cornfield. And after spending time with her now, Faye murdering Tullis King in cold blood never felt right. “You were being wildly protective?”

She shifts her weight on the bar stool, crossing her arms against her chest as her finger traces her tattoos.

She’s trying to decide if she can trust me. If she should tell me the details. I know more than most, obviously. It didn’t take long to figure out whose blood was splashed all over her shirt. Chatter of Tullis King disappearing hadn’t surfaced until weeks later. Maybe it was sooner, but I had been too busy managing my own nightmare to focus on anyone else's.

“There wasn’t time to process any of it. My mother was kind, and loved with her eyes and arms wide open. She’s the woman who told me to follow my instincts, find a path that would make my soul happy. And the way she loved horses...” Faye smiles fondly, but it quickly fades as she continues. “That night, my mom was scared. Shaken.” Taking a deep breath, she stares at the glass in front of her. “So I shoved away anything that looked like a moral compass and took inventory of what we would need to make him go away. If anyone was going to get away with that, it would be me. I had spent the last six years of my life learning how to read a crime scene and develop a case. Forensic science in undergrad, an internship, and then the police academy. I knew what would be looked for and scrutinized. And then a protective instinct kicked in.”

Calm, smart, strong.It’s all I can think of as she’s sharing what she went through that night.

I swipe off the tear that tracks along her cheekbone before it can splash against her beauty mark. “She wouldn’t let me call the police. She had a point. We might have had friends, but Tullis King and his brother? They have people in their pockets, on payroll. So, I made a choice. Maggie had said she was drinking more than usual lately, but my sister liked to play up the drama of situations. I should have listened and come home sooner.

“Tullis King was a condescending asshole on his best day and a demoralizing pig on his worst. By the time I came back with what I needed to move him, he was dead. My mother was practically catatonic. So I buried it. Everything.”

“And then I found you,” I say as I move around to her side of the bar.

She lets out a small, sad laugh. “Then you found me. And I panicked.”

“You thought on your feet.” I tilt my head to the side. “Blackmail was a creative choice. Quick thinking. Not sure Iwould have thought on my feet like that,” I say with a reassuring smile, trying to lighten the heaviness of all of it.

Her shoulders loosen, arms uncross, as she looks into my eyes, and then reaches for my shirt, rubbing the material between her fingers. “Do you forgive me? For putting you in an impossible position and?—”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I would have done the same to protect my family.” I have enough of what I need to know. She’d protected someone she loved and there wasn’t a single thing I considered wrong about that. At least some portion of the truth would be enough for now. “I have more questions.”

She leans away, creating space I don’t want between us. “I thought you might?—”

“I know there’s more to the story of why you’re back in Fiasco. That you wouldn’t kiss me like that the other night, come for me like you have, and then perch yourself on Blackstone’s lap if there hadn’t been a damn good explanation.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but I hold up the second tasting glass between us for her to try.

“When you’re ready to tell me all of them. Every last secret you have, Faye Calloway, then I’ll listen. But I don’t want just parts of your story anymore. Right now, I’d rather have a drink with a very sexy, very beautiful woman.”

Those green eyes watch me in a way that makes me feel wanted and maybe even needed.

Instead of reaching to take the glass, she tilts her chin up, parting her lips.

I dip my finger into the hand-blown glass and then paint her lips with the bourbon that drips off. Her fingers tighten against the front of my shirt as she pulls me closer, widening her legs to make room for me. Her tongue peeks out and licks away the bourbon across her lips.

“Alright, Foxx,” she says in a low and soft voice that hits me just right. “Just a drink?”

Threading my fingers into her hair, I kiss her the way I’ve wanted to since I left her on that porch swing. She hums at the first brush of our lips, and seconds later, she’s deepening the kiss like she’s been waiting for this too. The way this woman kisses, her entire body participates, and everything outside of us might still exist, but it doesn’t fucking matter. The taste of my bourbon along her tongue makes my cock so much harder that I can’t help but groan.

She smiles against my lips and then fists my shirt so tightly that I fall into her, erasing the space and any lingering hesitancy about this being exactly what I want.

I move my hands to her hips and nudge her closer to the edge of her chair. Her skirt hikes up past her thighs as they widen more for me, my fingers digging into her as a moan crawls up her throat. I can’t help but look down for a second—her body turns me on in a way that I’ve never felt.

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