Page 36 of Bourbon and Proof

It’s enough to push me over the edge, my chest tightening and rage igniting within me. I’m not going to play games and, in fact, the only thing his veiled threats are doing is reinforcing what I’ve already set into motion.

There’s one thing Wheeler hasn’t factored into all of this. It’s the one flaw to his somewhat desperate attempt to come out of this in one piece and not locked away behind bars. I may have underestimated him, but he’s wildly underestimated his daughter.

Hadley is going to do the one thing that I bargained for her to have autonomy over all those years ago. It’ll be a gamble. Castling, if this were a chess game. And regardless of the deal I made with him, if we play this smart, then the fallout will be minimal. A shift in the plan, but with the same players.

Wheeler hasn’t considered that his greatest mistake isn’t appointing her as executor of his estate and business, but how her assets could become shared assets with her spouse. Because until now, Hadley hasn’t had a spouse for him to consider.

Turning on my heel, I wave off Jimmy as I hustle down the front stairs, my mind made up.

I’m going to marry Hadley Finch.

Chapter 15

Hadley

May: Trough water is my new favorite cocktail.

*2 oz Rye bourbon *lime juice (whole lime) *coconut water *lots of ice.

Also, women asking men to marry them is highly underrated. I’ve done it twice now. Answer still pending, but feels hella empowering...

“What are you calling this again?” Faye asks from the farthest galvanized tub.

I toss my black book onto the pile of towels a few feet away, thinking about it and taking in the set-up we’re submerged in. “Trough water. Our version of ranch water.”

“Brilliant,” she says with a sigh. “I like it better than the mint julep.”

Julep barks out, hearing her name from the back porch. Laney shouts back, “Not you, sweet girl.”

I smile, enjoying the company of two of my favorite people.How am I supposed to keep the proposal from them?What did I possibly see coming out of any of this? I’m not the kind of girl who gets the guy. I’m an independent woman in my mid-thirties who doesn’tneedthe guy...And yet, I’mstillthinking about his mouth on mine. The way my thoughts stutter every single time I see him in a room or catch his attention on me.

Water splashes on the side of my face, and Laney says, “You’re thinking awfully hard over there, Hadley.” She turns her head in the other direction toward the horse trough that Faye’s sitting in. “She has that serious look on today, and it’s worrying me. She hasn’t said the word vibrator or insinuated anything sexual in—” She looks at her wrist, where there’s no trace of a watch, smiling back at me. “Far too long.”

“I’m wearing a very short, cropped T-shirt that says,Ask Me About My Panties,while submerged in a tub, drinking a cocktail, and it’s two in the afternoon. I feel like I’m very on brand today,” I joke as I sip my cocktail.

Tilting my head back, I bask in the warmth of the sun. I’m ready for a Kentucky summer and all of the sweet and slow details that the season brings with it—festivals and fireworks, river dips and cavern dives, and the simple things like late-night rides and watching Lark and Lily catch fireflies.

I can almost hear them looking at each other, trying to decide what to say next. “You’ve just had a lot of things?—”

I cut off the pity that’ll come as a follow-up to that statement. “Do you remember the time that guy tried to ‘mansplain’ what a speakeasy was?”

Laney laughs. “Inside a speakeasy . . . to a speakeasy owner.”

Faye smiles into her glass. “I would say I’m surprised, but...”

I draw my pruney fingers along the edge of the trough. “The audacity of people will never surprise me, but sometimes, Itruly wish I could see the moment in life when they realize how egregiously they’ve overstepped. And then just give a slow and awkward golf clap.”

“That would be too poetic, Hadley.”

I exhale. “A girl can dream.”

“So you’re good, then?” Laney presses, looking at me more seriously.

“I’m fine. Promise.” It feels nice to have people who notice even the slightest shift in my behavior. She’s not wrong. I’ve been “off” since Lincoln’s wedding. But I’m not even a little bit ready to share all the reasons why. I turn my head toward Laney and try to shift the subject away from me. “I’m currently loving that you decided to think of us when Grant asked about what you wanted for your birthday.”

“I got my hammock over there,” she says, tipping her head toward the two oaks holding a massive hammock between the trunks. “And there’s something very therapeutic about sitting in these things with junk food and good company,” Laney says with a wide, lazy smile as her long copper-colored hair drapes over the back of the galvanized tub.

What each of us are submerged in are really intended to be horse troughs—a spot for horses to drink or feed—but my darling friend made herself at home in one of them when she first came to Fiasco and decided it was better than a hot tub. She brought one in for me, and then when Faye decided to make herself a permanent part of the Foxx family, Laney added a third.

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