Page 34 of Bourbon and Proof

Ace takes another step back, and then another as I stand from the desk and adjust my skirt. I brush by him and turn the doorknob to leave, but something has me stopping to look back at him. With a rough swallow, I say what’s been on my mind since our kiss. “I think I made it seem like my offer to marry you also meant it needed to be tied to whateverthatjust was. It doesn’t. If you need my help, then my offer still stands.” I turn my body fully to face him, letting out the truth I’ve been stubborn about. “Because...you’re right, I don’t have things handled. Maybe marrying you is also a way for me to get out of this constant state of being my father’s daughter. It would benefit me just as much as you.” Tilting my chin higher, I pull as much strength as I can. I feel safe when I’m with him—so many other things too, but those can be stifled, if it means this could help us both. I could never say it out loud, but I didn’t want to be a Finch anymore. I didn’t want to deal with the money, the threats, the outcomes—almost as much as Iwantedto be a Foxx. “Friends with the benefit of a marriage certificate. Nothing more.”

He shoves his hands into his suit pants pockets and watches me, letting what I’ve said linger for the briefest moment before he says, “We both know it’s not that simple.”

I smile with a shrug and open the door. “Maybe not. But I’m still your best option.”

Closing the door behind me, I walk down the hall, toward the crowded bar and laughter. With every step, I shake off the vulnerability that always escapes when I’m alone with him. And as the live music and applause for Faye grows louder, itdrowns out the fact that I just suggested that Ace Foxx marry me...again.

Chapter 14

Ace

“That one will knockyou back a bit.” I nod to the Glencairn glass that Julian’s sipping from. I tip mine on its side—the beauty of these types of glasses meant to sip, taste, and move the whiskey—showing off the coppery color as I let it roll slightly. “My brother is the one who’ll talk chemistry with you all day long about how the alcohol in this bottle increased, but it’ll hit the back of your throat with some muscle, so sip it.

He closes his fist over his lips after he swallows. “Damn.” As he winces, I can’t help but smile. It seems like a good time to lighten the situation. I hadn’t planned on sending him in to break up a fight tonight, but it made the most sense.

“I could have done a nice tasting at the distillery, but you were the asshole who picked this place.” I look down at the packed main floor of Midnight Proof from where I’m sitting. The private space that Hadley reserves is open, and the commotion needs to die down before either of us leaves. Finishing off myglass, I sit back, waiting for him to get to the reason why he needed an in-person visit.

There are only ever two reasons for an in-person visit from one of us. It’s either a request for an audience—like Griz did during Lincoln’s bachelor party. Or there’s a job that doesn’t feel quite right, and someone needs support. We each respect the lives and careers outside of this additional obligation, so attention beyond texts or phone calls is rare.

While Julian doesn’t look out of place here in Fiasco,wedon’t look like people who would be colleagues. We’re polar opposites in the way we present ourselves. I prefer suits and bourbon, and he showed up looking like he couldn’t decide between being an artist or a cowboy. But I’ve seen plenty of his work—and he’s damn talented. Handmade pieces, from rings and necklaces to headpieces and art installations. Many of which have been celebrated in auctioned collections and on red carpets. But outside of his affinity for titanium and gemstones, Julian also knows how to easily erase a person’s existence. From their digital footprint to their skin and teeth. His particular skill set would be a threat to just about every government agency. Except, oftentimes, those are exactly who call in favors and requests.

Leaning back in his leather club chair, he pulls out a black velvet pouch from the front interior pocket of his leather vest and tosses it to me.

“What’s this?” I ask, opening it.

He looks down at my hand as I turn it over to drop out the contents.

A thick silver belt buckle. “Aw, honey, you shouldn’t have,” I joke.

With a smirk, he shakes his head. “No, asshole. That’s not one of mine.” He crosses his arms. “That was waiting for me ina P.O. box under an alias that I haven’t used in more than a decade. Look at the initials.”

I turn it over in my fingers, drawing over the letters depicting one of the country’s most acclaimed rodeo circuits.

The hoots and hollers from the crowd downstairs get louder, along with a drawn-out trumpet and drumbeat. I glance up, and my gaze slides over to Hadley like it’s second nature.

“Does she know what you did for her?” he asks, his eyes pinned to her slinging drinks behind the bar.

Turning the buckle over in my hand, I ignore the question. Apparently, my lack of response says enough.

“You’re in love with her,” he says. With a low laugh, air blows past his lips. “I would have thought after all this time...”

I clear my throat and rub my thumb along my lip, taking one last look at the way Hadley moves so effortlessly. I couldn’t put into words what the hell I’m doing when it comes to Hadley, even if I wanted to share.

“What am I looking at here?” I ask, bringing my attention back to the buckle. Nothing about the year or championship seems all that important...until it clicks.

“Well, I’m looking at a brunette who I’ve witnessed you make someinterestingmoves around.” He pauses with a pointed look before he continues. “You call me in to clean up a body, and I’m still not sure how he ended up dead on her family’s property. And then you ask me to step in tonight with that bald prick. I know her name and that she’s close to your brother, but who is she to you, Ace?” he asks with a curious tone. “If you’re not interested?—”

“Not an option,” I cut him off.

He tips his head to the side and smiles. “For me or for you?”

“For both,” I say with a finality that tells him to back off.

He smirks to himself and then leans forward, taking the buckle from my hand. “It’s been driving me nuts why a rodeobuckle would end up in that P.O. box. There are plenty of rodeo boys in Montana, but there’s no reason for this to end up with me. Unless it was to send a message.”Fuck.He points to the center of it. “You messed up.”

My gut sinks, knowing all the errors I made that night. Ones that cost me more than just money. I glance at Faye as she works her way around the room. There’s a reason why I asked for her help. And she’s capable. She’s already pulled plenty of details about the people affiliated with and burned by Wheeler Finch. People who could be considered a threat. But this right here isn’t something she needs to know about.

He tilts his head toward my hand. “That right there was attached to a dead man before he ended up fertilizing some cornfields. And now we need to figure out exactly why it didn’t get destroyed, and who would be so bold as to send it to me and not you.”

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