Chapter 23

It feelswarm on my hands. Trying to hold her up and move with all this extra weight. I didn't expect the shreds of cloth and skin to feel so warm. I don't know where to hold her that won't hurt. But it doesn't matter. I only have one thought. Get out. Get out. Get out. My hand is so wet. And the whining. It won't stop.

I blink my eyes open when Julep licks at the palm of my open hand, putting me at ease. Her body sprawls across the mattress, leaving me limited covers and space. "Hey, sweet girl. Did you sleep in here?"

I move too fast, sitting up and instantly regretting it. My head throbs, my left eye twitches creepily, and my throat is dry and tastes disgusting. I look down and a navy-blue towel is loosely tucked around my body under the fluffy duvet. I don't remember how I got in here. And the idea of that makes me smile. I think I fell asleep outside.

When I eye my furry friend, who hasn't moved at all, her light eyes just look back at me as I pet along the top of her head.

"Where's your handsome daddy?" I smile at the little twinge of nerves still lingering around everything that happened last night. Skinny dipping in his backyard, telling him all about Phillip. And choosing to leave out the rest. He knows there's more. I practically said as much, but he didn't push. Grant was the cop who made me nervous. The Foxx brother who didn't trust me. But last night, he was my bartender. My therapist. My…friend.

A succession of beeps from the kitchenette starts going off. And as soon as they stop, I hear water trickling. I sit up and look over, since it's not that far from my bed, smiling when I see it. A coffee pot. His coffee pot. The one from his counter that plugs in and looked like it had never been used. The time reads 7:10 a.m., which is still plenty of time for a shower before I have to meet Lincoln at the distillery for a touch-base meeting.

The smell of coffee permeates the room a few minutes later. Between the thoughtful coffee and that buttered croissant scent of the air outside my new home, I pause, recognizing how happy I feel.

I remember everything Grant said to me last night. Small things that I didn't realize I needed to hear. Big things I needed to say out loud, to anyone who would listen. And he listened. He listened and I felt lighter. We started talking about music, our favorite movies, and his family business. And now, the remnants of what triggered my pizza and candy binge aren't anywhere in sight.

"Do you like working here, or are you thinking you might want to do something else?"

I told him how much I really enjoyed learning about bourbon. That when I wasn't planning the 100th anniversary event, how I would pick up a shift from the tasting bar or help one of the new hires on a tour if they asked. "It's exactly what I want to be doing. What about you? Do you like what you're doing?"

When he answered, he stared at the fire pit, really thinking through his words. "I thought for a long time that I was meant to be doing something else. But this healed me in a lot of ways. Helped me find a new version of who I was."

Julep still hasn't budged as I get up to use the bathroom. When I shuffle my way into my small kitchen, there's a mug next to the coffee pot with a note tucked under it.

I never make good coffee so it's going to be gross, but the coffee pot is yours if you want it. Julep wouldn't leave after I carried you over. Hope you don't mind her making herself at home. Come find me when you're done with work today. -Grant

I read the note at least three more times, before a loud whistle has me turning and looking out the window.

The sheer white curtains don't give way to much visibility, but I'm guessing it's Grant by the sound of his truck. Julep heard it too—the truck starting, the whistle, and then the lazy morning lounger is long gone and at the door in seconds. Her front paws hit the center of the door and then at the knob, eager to get out there. When I open it, I'm greeted by the bright sun and the blanket of humidity, ready to assault anyone who dares to step out into it. Across the front grass, still peppered with wildflowers, is Grant standing next to his idling truck with the door open. Julep darts straight for it. She hops right into the cab, across the front seat, and into the back, where I'm guessing she has a strap waiting for her to be buckled into.

I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the door frame.

"Mornin'," he calls out to me.

"Morning, cowboy," I smile and lift my hand slightly to wave.

He's wearing his typical work attire. A pair of worn jeans and work boots, some variation of a blue t-shirt that fits just tight enough around his arms to let the rest of the world know that this man can lift plenty of heavy things. Today there's not a hat, but his dark hair is still damp at the ends, giving the illusion that if it were long enough, it'd be wavy. The scruff on his face is trimmed the same length—that mustache that looked thicker when I first met him is fully blended in now. It tickled my lips at first, but the scratch of it felt good when he kissed me. My cheeks heat just thinking about it again. And then I wonder if it would tickle or scratch between my legs. The way his tongue moved with mine and the mix of his beard and mustache. Was it horrible of me to want to see beard burn around my thighs? Maybe.

He smiles back at me, almost like he knows what I'm thinking. Maybe not.

"Thanks for the coffee pot."

"It'll save you a trip into town every morning." He's been paying attention. And I don't mind knowing that one little bit.

The big, fat crush I have on Grant Foxx is probably written all over my face as I watch him pull out of his driveway and turn down the road to the distillery. My smile stays in place until I take a sip of my coffee and cough at the bitterness. But then I laugh. What the hell did he put in this?

I promptly pour the rest of my mug and the pot down the drain and think about the way he waited for me to say more last night. I brace my hands on the counter and hang my head. He has to know at least what Ace and Griz do. How I got here and exactly who brought me. I basically told him as much when I was drunk and running my mouth.

It's just a matter of when, not if, I tell him the rest of my story. And the part where there's still something unsettled about what's happening back in New York that has my WITSEC handler on edge. Ace won't want me here if there's any hint of trouble. Hell, I wouldn't want me here if that meant any one of them could be in danger from it. I suck in a deep breath and count to three, because getting worked up over the unknown isn't going to make this truth any easier to share.

Especially when there's a chance it could risk my newfound happiness.

"I kissed him,"I mumble, looking through the binoculars.

"You're going to need to be specific with me, because there are a few Foxxes you could be referring to," Hadley says over a mouthful of popcorn.

I lean back and watch her shovel another handful into her mouth before she's even finishes chewing. "There is no way that Mr. Tall, Dark, and Flirty isn't in a throuple." She looks through the viewfinder of her telescope and points. "I just need to know. I'm going to be so jealous if the florist, who was actually really quite lovely in high school, is getting Eiffel towered tonight."

I bark out a laugh. "How do you know it's a Foxx?"

With her focus still on the people we're watching, she says, "Oh, the third-party is not a Foxx. It's got to be one of the firemen who just started. There were, like, three new ones who were just assigned to the Fiasco Fire Department."

"No, who I kissed. Why did you just assume it was one of them?"

She gives me a leveling glare. "They all look at you like you've brought some kind of magic to our small town. They're the most likely. If I had to guess, though, it's either Ace or Grant." She squints her eyes at me. "If it was Linc, I would have already heard about it. He's total shit with secrets."

I look back into the binoculars. "It was Grant."

"And?"

I inhale, and the sighing exhale is all I need to offer.

"That good?"

I smile, remembering the way he touched me, how our lips just went for it, the way his tongue made every inch of my body feel like putty while simply brushing mine. How not kissing him again last night was borderline torturous when I know how perfect it felt. "Yeah, that good." I clear my throat as I watch the tall, dark fireman come out of the florist. "Jackpot. It's the fireman."

"Oooh, which one?" She raises the looking glass to her eye. "Nice. The dark-haired one. Tattoos. She's officially living her best life."

My phone buzzes.

COWBOY

I found a sour gummy worm in my boot this morning.

LANEY

Jackpot! Did you eat it?

I can almost picture his face when he reads that. His mustache lifting at the corners as his lips quirk.

COWBOY

There were also red licorice bits and smeared chocolate in the ropes of my hammock.

LANEY

Awesome. I'll come by and lick it up later.

Hadley interrupts, "Who has you smiling like that?"

COWBOY

I've already taken care of it.

LANEY

That's a shame. Cleaning up is sometimes the best part.

We've been on Hadley's roof deck for a couple of hours, sitting on pale pink lounge chairs decorated with plush pillows shaped like disco balls. There's a blow-up kiddie pool in the far corner with two swan floaties moving with the little breeze that's working through downtown Fiasco today. I knew some time with her would help to distract me, and it's been working like a charm. Grant was tied up with his brothers after work so I texted Hadley. She said she had worked super late, but if I wanted to come over and lounge with her, she was in "spy-mode." I didn't know what that meant, but I wanted to get to know her more. She's easy to be around. She wants to relax in the sun on her over-the-top roof deck on a hot summer's day in a bathing suit. And spy on her neighbors. I like that she's a bit of a troublemaker and caretaker rolled into a really fun package, who knows what it means to be curious and still kind. All of it equals me wanting to be around her. And it seems like the feeling is mutual.

"What about you?"

She kicks her feet up and tilts her head to the sun. "What about me?"

"Are you seeing anyone? You hadn't mentioned anyone, but?—"

"Between us, I'm so single it's become my identity." She takes a sip of her Aperol spritz. "But if anyone asks, I enjoy plenty of company."

"Is that for your benefit, or . . ."

She exhales, long and loud. "You already know this, but everyone knows everyone's business here. It would make my father intensely happy to hear I'm looking to settle down. He's got plenty of douche-canoes lined up to marry me." She lowers her sunglasses to look at me. "And it's not because he wants to see his little girl happy. He wants me to marry into a family that'll benefit him or his business."

"That feels really archaic, Hadley."

I instantly feel shitty for being judgmental as she gives me a tight-lipped smile. She clearly already knows how it sounds.

"My father doesn't always play above the line when it comes to business. He has fairly misogynistic ideas about women. So my work-around is being the kind of woman none of his ‘associates' would want to keep. Honestly, his generation says ‘slut' with a negative connotation. Our generation says it and I'm ready to respect the shit out of whomever waves that flag."

I can't help but smile. There's not a category for her, and maybe that's why I like her so much. She has tiny tattoos peppered along her forearms, big, wild, curly hair, and this badass vibe that seems impenetrable.

She texts away on her phone. "Do you need a refill?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Press that button." She points to a framed black button. Across the top of it reads: Cabana Boy.

"So between us, I'm underwhelmed in the partner department. And I'm okay with that. At least for now, maybe I'll just live vicariously through you."

The door to her roof deck opens and through it comes a tall man with dark blonde hair wearing a Fiasco FD t-shirt. "Did I just beckon someone to bring us drinks?"

Her smile is mischievous. "You did."

"Ms. Wheeler, the lieutenant said I was supposed to come over here and help you with something?"

She turns to me with a smirk. "I may not approve of how my dad does business, but it has its benefits."

Looking back at him, she says, "Can you be a sweetheart and make us two Aperol spritzes?"

He smirks. "Ma'am, I'm on duty."

She sits up in her triangle bikini top, which he notices right away as his eyes drop lower and then flick back up. "Thank you for your service, then." She points to the bar cart in the south corner of the roof deck, sitting underneath a white sun umbrella. "Drink directions are right next to the glasses."

Kicking her feet back up on the lounger, she gestures for me to continue. "Now, did Grant kiss you, or did you kiss him?"

I bark out a laugh. "I think I love you."

She holds out her hand and wraps it around my forearm. "I think I love you too, babes. Oh"—she throws her arms up—"that reminds me. How would you feel about helping me out at Midnight Proof?"