Page 42 of Bourbon and Proof

“And stop getting your panties all in a bunch,” she says with a wave of her hand, turning back and walking through the threshold of the bedroom. “I’m checking out my new room.”

This is a detail that there’s really no way to work around, especially with Griz living under the same roof. It’s a stretch that he’s going to believe anything about this situation as it is, but I need him to be satisfied enough to consider the marriage as a mutual agreement and not me exploiting a woman he’s considered family for a long time. And while the legal documents will be enough for my other reasons, I want his approval too. Even if he eventually realizes it isn’t the real thing.

She drags her hands along the top of the dressers, stepping slowly toward the other side of the room. A part of me likes seeing her in my space. Part of me wants to lean into the lie and believe the illusion of this being real. At the doorway to the en suite bathroom, she turns her head, looking at me over her shoulder, just as I’m glancing down at her muscular legs.

“Goddesses, are you fucking kidding me?” She gasps. “This might just be the sexiest bathroom I’ve ever seen. I’m never leaving.”

Please don’t, I pathetically respond in my head.

Her fingers tap along the shiny dark marble. “You cannot possibly have a bathroom like this and expect me to contribute to society.” Undoing the top button of her shorts, she keeps her eyes on mine.

I lean against the door frame and sling one hand into my pocket, watching her be very intent with the way she moves her hips left, and then right, slowly coaxing the tight jean shorts from her hips and sliding the material down her thighs.

“I’d like to try it out. Test what I’m getting into and see if it...fits.” Her eyes drop to my pants as her shorts hit the floor. “Or are we just going to ignore that kiss?”

I try my hardest not to seem fazed by her taunt, even as my attention flicks to the bathing suit bottoms tying at the sides of her hips. I haven’t thought through the intricacies of what being physical with her would do now. How even one taste could, and likely would, change the trajectory of all of this. There’s too much at stake to fuck around and find out.

“I’m not ignoring it, Hadley. It’s just irrelevant now.”

Her mouth kicks up in a half smile, but a sarcastic scoff comes out when she says, “Irrelevant? Feels kind of relevant.”

“It’s impossible to ignore how beautiful you are, but you know that.” I watch her swallow, like that information is news to her. “So you can keep peeling clothes off, and I’ll appreciate the fuck out of it, but that’s all it’ll be. A show. Just like what we need to put on in order to make all of this work.”

She stops moving her fingers that have been teasing along the hem of her T-shirt. “Is that what you think I’m doing here? Putting on a show?” Smiling, she starts to lift her shirt as shesays, “I’m simply not feeling very shy around my soon-to-be husband?—”

I leave the room at that, catching only a glimpse of the under curve of her tits. Fuck, just that alone has me wanting to fuck my hand, hard and fast.

“I’ll be in my office when you’re done,” I call out, just as I hear the shower turn on. Letting out a ragged exhale, I shuffle down the stairs, but as I’m turning on the landing, Griz is standing there with his arms crossed—and a pissed-off look painted across his face.Great.A hard-on and a disapproving father figure, like I’m a fucking teenager all over again.

I slow on the last stair and smile to myself, looking down first, trying to figure out how to play this. He probably heard just about all of that. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was home and just sat quietly listening.

“What the hell are you doing, Atticus?” he asks in a reprimanding tone.

Slightly annoyed at the lack of privacy, I move past him, answering as honestly as I can. “What I have to, Griz.”

Chapter 17

Ace

Apparently,what I’ve had to do is wait. Two hours have ticked by, and Hadley still hasn’t surfaced from my room. The rumble of thunder shakes the house, just enough that the chandelier in my office sounds like an instrument—something unsettling and out of tune. It’s how I’ve felt since I left her upstairs, thrumming with rootless, unyielding energy.

My phone buzzing on my desk is a welcome distraction.

RIGGS

You should come and see the place. Know what you’re getting yourself into before you decide to sign on the dotted line.

ACE

Does your husband know you’re inviting me?

RIGGS

Whose idea do you think it was to invite you out? We’re coming off our busy season. It’s the perfect time to see what a place like this can offer when it’s done correctly.

Business comes easily to me. Conducting it and finding where things could flourish and what would inevitably end up costing money. The bourbon industry is consistently growing, orders and fulfillment increasing daily, but the distillery, tours, even the expected turnout for this year’s races are far lower than any other year that I can remember. The chaos that Wheeler Finch created with his business didn’t just impact a few; it’s chipping away at my town, the people, and their businesses. There needs to be something new—tourists need a reason to come, other than for the bourbon.

A blur of dark hair catches my attention as it moves past my office door, head down, scribbling in her notebook.

---