Chapter 28

"You're finally seeing it."

I stuff a piece of sugary dough into my mouth. I have a feeling I know what she's going to say. The way I melted into Grant on that dance floor did not go unnoticed. "Seeing what?"

She steers with her knee as she rips off another piece of dough. Chewing for a second, she lowers the music as we drive up the road to the distillery. "That man has been romancing you since you got here. Whatever it is he's trying to get from you…" she pauses to give me a side-eye and grins, "it's working."

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

BEA

Checking in.

She's like a big bucket of water. A reminder that I'm not here just starting fresh, but I'm hiding from another life. Attempting to start over with the worry that something or someone will catch up with me.

LANEY

Hi! All good here.

More than fucking good, Bea. Stop cock-blocking me.

I roll the window down for a little fresh air. I'm not going to overthink the fact that this is her second check-in this week. Instead, I move my fingers along the humid air rushing by, feeling the moisture collect on my fingertips. "What does that even mean—romancing?"

"He's a Foxx, so it's a toss-up whether his plan is to just fall into bed with you. Or to make you fall for him. Either way, it's to get what he wants out of you." She slows as we get closer to our houses. "Grant is the quiet one. Or at least, he has been. People forget, but I remember Grant before. And he's persistent when he has his sights set on something."

"And that something is me."

She laughs. "But I think that dumb idiot lost sight of what his original plan was and went ahead and fell for you."

I pull down the visor and wipe away the bit of black that's smudged below my lash line, then snag the red lipstick from my pouch.

That's what we're doing, isn't it? Falling.

I dab on a bit of the red to give my cheeks some color and smear the tiniest bit on my lower lip just to freshen up.

"You look great, by the way."

The car stops, and I open the door. "This is Grant's driveway."

She gives me a smirk. "I'm saving you the steps."

I can't bite back the smile. Just like I can't remember ever having a friend like her. One who is equally insightful as she is non judgemental. It's refreshing to enjoy time spent with a person without ulterior motives or working an angle.

Shutting the door, I lean on the window. "Is this a bad idea?"

"I think that the kind of bad idea you're referring to is the kind we end up remembering most." She lets out an overly aggressive sigh, tilting her head back on the headrest. "He's a good man, Laney. And out of everyone I know, he could use a little fun, even if it"s a bad idea."

"Thanks, Hadley."

"Thank me tomorrow when you tell me all about how many times he made you—" She honks her horn, and then floors it up the road.

I'm still laughing as I walk up the porch stairs and start knocking. Running my hands down the front of my dress, I'm suddenly very aware that the lingerie underneath is cute, but fairly sweaty from the day and dancing.

But those thoughts are wiped away as Grant swings the door open, wearing his signature smirk and the same t-shirt and jeans from just thirty minutes ago. Why does he look even hotter right now? Maybe it's the anticipation of peeling all of it off him.

He watches me eye-fuck him in the doorway without saying a word. But just as I start to fill the silence, he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me into him.

He walks us past the threshold and back into the house. "Hadley dropped you off right out front, didn't she?"

"She's pretty intuitive. Said she was saving me the steps."

He brushes my hair behind my shoulder. "Hadley isn't the gossip of the bunch. It's Griz and all his girls I was worried about."

Julep barks from the living room couch, and I can't hold back the laugh when I glance at her. "Is she wearing earmuffs?" I walk over to her and give her white belly a good rub as she lays down and rolls to her back. Her coloring is as chaotic and beautiful as her big personality.

"She was the best police dog in the county." He tilts his head, watching us. "I'd bet the best in the country, but the moment she hears fireworks, all bets are off. She'll find a corner and shake until they're over. Those and her little cave tend to do the trick."

"I'm glad you got home in time, then." I smile, then what he said before I got distracted by Julep sinks in. "What did you mean, all of Griz's girls?"

Grant pulls out two Glencairn glasses and a bottle from one of his kitchen cabinets. "His book club girls. You know he's slept with half of them."

My jaw drops as my head whips to face him. "That's not true. Oh my gosh." I cover my mouth as I chuckle. "Is that true?"

"It's the one common knowledge item that everyone knows, but never talks about. Probably because they're the ones controlling all the town rumors."

"Stop it!" But even as I say it, I can see it.

"Griz likes to play the Foxx curse in his favor. Nobody wants more than some fun every once in a while. Most of them are widows. I don't think Prue ever was married. But yeah, Griz and his girls are the ones who'll start and end a rumor here."

"And it would be bad for them to catch wind of me leaving with you?"

That has him smiling. "I didn't say bad." He walks past me, hooking his finger with my pinkie as he brushes by. "Just that we'd be the only thing everyone would want to talk about this summer. It's not my favorite place to be—a part of everyone"s conversations."

Grasping my hand, he pulls me along toward the far side of his open living space and through a door that I had thought would lead to a garage. But as he flicks on the lights and we move through the threshold, it's pretty evident that this is so much more than a storage spot for cars and sporting gear. The sweet and tangy smell hits me first.

"This is deceiving."

The room is double the size of his living room, but instead of comfortable couches and a cozy fireplace, there's a heavy bag hanging from the rafters and a large metal tub. It's significantly smaller than the ones at the distillery, but it holds the same thick yellow mash. The wall to my right is lined with a workbench with plenty of things I don't recognize, but the barrels and copper still give away what this space is for him.

"There's a good spot to watch the fireworks off the back."

"This is a badass hobby set-up." I laugh at how nonchalant he is about what's in here.

We stop in front of a few bourbon barrels as he puts the glasses down. "It was just a garage, but when I renovated, I wanted to have more space. I wasn't exactly sure what for at the time, but before I knew it, I had a bunch of equipment. Maybe a part of me knew all along I'd find my way back to bourbon. So, I turned this into"—he looks around and exhales—"my escape."

I run my fingers along the oak barrel. "From?"

As his hazel eyes meet mine, I can't help but lick my lips in anticipation of his. The way I feel when this man looks at me is altering. It's forever altered the way I see myself, and the way I expect to be seen. It's shifted what I ever expected, because this current between us, this undeniable chemistry that whirls to life within every inch of my body when I'm near him, has changed me. "The rumors haven't caught up to you yet, then?"

"Some have." I tilt my head to the side, thinking about how I can carefully dance around a topic I'm not sure he wants to discuss.

He lets go of my hand and moves toward his workbench. On the shelf above, he pulls down an unmarked bottle of bourbon. "It's an escape from everything. The life I chose. The one I couldn't live up to. The person I no longer recognized. And then people looking at me like..."

Shaking his head, he steps closer to me, erasing the space and pouring some of what he just pulled out into one of the glasses.

I stay quiet, watching and hoping he'll keep talking. But instead of finishing his thought, he holds up the glass, tipping his nose inside to smell the notes before bringing it to my lips. "This is mine." I keep my eyes trained on his as he tilts the rim of the glass, letting him do it for me. "My year." My head moves back with the motion, my tongue catching the first bite, opening my lips just enough to let more in. The warm vanilla and smoked oak flavor hits my palate first, and then a burned caramel takes over as it travels farther, coating my tongue and throat.

A few drops escape my lips, but as I move to wipe it, he stops my hand and holds it back. I search his eyes for the briefest moment before he leans forward and licks from my chin up to the corner of my mouth, making my core clench. "Tastes even better on you," his voice rasps.

"More?" I ask as I swipe my tongue along my lower lip.

I dip my finger in what's left in the glass.

He watches as I pull my pointer up and toward his mouth and drag the pad of my finger around his lips, dousing them with his bourbon. Leaning in, I kiss the trail I left. Our tongues move so slowly together, a sensual push-and-pull I'm eager to keep the tempo on.

The rumble that comes from his throat vibrates his lips, through my body, down to my chest, swooping into my belly and setting everything below it on fire. As I pull back, he hooks his finger into the thin strap of my dress, dragging it down over my shoulder, and kissing along my jaw. "I'm still thirsty, honey."

"Don't stop," I breathe out.

That's all that he needs to unleash whatever he's been keeping at bay.

He rips the rest of my strap down, exposing the pink lace bra that matches the cheeky undies under the skirt of this dress. I thank the humidity that forced me to choose something light instead of the smoothing efforts that Spanx would have offered.

"Fuck, look at you," he says as he drags his calloused fingers along the tops of my breasts, dipping just inside the cups. "So beautiful." The scratch of his touch along the tops of my nipples has goosebumps appearing in its wake. I practically pant for more. Eager for his praise and starved for his touch.

Reaching behind his neck, he pulls off his shirt in one fast motion. I've seen him without a shirt on before, but never with the undercurrent that I could touch. That even if it's just for tonight, he's mine. I don't even realize that I've started running my fingers down the front of his chest, across the tattoos that start on each shoulder and meet in the middle. My fingers lift when I hear another rumble in his throat. I can't keep the smirk off my face, knowing I'm turning him on the same way.

"Your turn now." He grabs the bottle of bourbon and takes a swig. "Let me see what I've been dreaming about sucking on, Laney."

It's not sweet or swoony, but those words make me all too eager to do exactly as he says. I roll the rest of my dress down my stomach and past my thighs until it hits the hardwood floor, and I watch as his eyes follow. They skim up my body, never stopping until they reach my eyes again. When I flick the clasps of my bra and let it drop, he licks his lips. "The way I've thought about you, just like this. Offering yourself to me..." He rubs his hand across his mouth, and the look on his face is enough to give me full-body tingles.

Holding out my hand, I look toward the bottle he has looped between two fingers. He steps closer, passing me the heavy glass bottle, almost full, minus the dram he poured when he opened it. I press the opening to my lips and take the smallest sip. I let a bit dribble from my mouth, and then pull it away, tilting it just enough to trickle a path of bourbon from the top of my chest down the slope of my breast and tip of my nipple.

The smirk that dances on his lips is all I need to encourage my next words.

"Drink up, cowboy."

He lets out a quiet growl and a "Yes, ma'am." Dipping low, his tongue drags across the top of my breast, lapping up the trail of bourbon. But he doesn't linger there. Instead, his lips are back on mine in a starved kiss. His hands dive into my hair and tilt me exactly where he wants. As his mouth travels down my neck, his hips push into me, backing us against the wall. His head drops lower moments later, trailing a path of kisses from just below my ear, down my neck, and to my collarbone, pulling airy moans from my chest. One of his hands still fixed along my neck, cups my jaw as his thumb draws a path over my lips. He presses it in, past my teeth and to my waiting tongue, wordlessly telling me to suck.

"The things I've imagined doing to this pretty mouth..." he says, lowering to his knees and cupping my breast. His tongue swipes along the curve of the other, and then teases my nipple where a drop of bourbon waited patiently for him. "This body." It's not enough, I want more. Arching my chest, I practically drive my hips toward him for some kind of friction. I drag my free hand into his hair, my nails scraping against his scalp.

"Don't tease me."

"You want more? Then keep pouring, baby."

"I'm going to waste too much," I laugh out.

"It's the best bottle I've ever had. And it's got nothing to do with the notes or the year, and everything to do with how I'm drinking it." He leans up, licking the valley right in between both breasts, and then smiles up at me. "Now pour."

So I do exactly as he says, because if I've just realized anything, it's that I like when Grant Foxx tells me what to do. I more than like it. I'm practically getting off on his words alone.

Small rivulets of bourbon pour down the peaks and valley of my chest, toward his waiting lips. Teasing across each breast with his tongue, he makes a path down the slope of my stomach. As he gets closer to my panties, he peppers open-mouthed kisses past my navel. He looks up for permission as his fingers hook into the waist of the pink lace.

I bite my lip and give him a smiling nod. I rock my hips forward as he drags my panties achingly slow down my thighs until they reach my cowboy boots. When I step out, he tosses them somewhere behind him. "The boots stay on."

I hum at the way his hands run back up the path they just came.

"When my tongue kisses this sexy pussy, is she going to be nice and wet for me?"

I can't hold back the nervous laugh. I've never had anyone talk to me like this. His words have sparked an entirely new level of sexual confidence within me, one I want to embrace.

He nudges my legs open as he kisses and nips at the skin his hands caress. Moving from my right inner thigh, he stops just as he gets to where I want him, moving to the other side. He takes the bottle that I'm barely holding from my fingers, downing one more swig before putting it on the floor. If his mouth got any closer, I would have absolutely dropped it.

When he leans into me, his nose nudges at my slit, pulling a gasp from my lips. It's such a filthy move, but it's nothing compared to what comes next. He moans as he pulls back. "You're too quiet, honey." But he doesn't let me respond as he glides his tongue nice and slow from my opening to my clit.

The air is instantly stolen from my lungs. Like I wasn't expecting that, even though I knew it was coming. He does it again, even slower this time, savoring the taste of me by the way he releases another deep moan. "Then make me scream, Grant."

He shoves my legs wider so his broad shoulders can fit between, and then wraps his hands under my thighs. Gripping them tight, the move pushes me up the wall just enough that my feet are barely touching the ground. I don't overthink, I know he's got me. The only thing I can hold on to is his thick dark hair as my cowboy drags his tongue in punishing patterns across my clit until it's so wet and swollen that being quiet is no longer possible as whimpers and moans filter from my lips.

The thunderous booms of fireworks rumble in the background. It barely registers above the sounds he's making as he devours me thoroughly. Sucking my clit into his mouth, the scruff of his beard scrapes, numbing my skin just enough so that I can only feel the warmth of his breath, the slickness of his tongue, and my arousal. When his hands squeeze my thighs, I know he's not letting up. I forget about every detail that's kept me grounded—the room and its low lighting. The smoothness of the wall against my back. The way I'm spread out and at his complete mercy. All of it's forgotten. I only think about the hammering of my pulse and how it labors my breath. My hearing becomes muffled as my orgasm builds, leading me toward an edge I've never been so close to.

He pulls back and blows a hot breath where his mouth just left. The change in pressure has me feeling needy. "I want to see you fall apart for me," he demands. Then his lips latch onto me once more, sucking my clit into his mouth and dragging his teeth along every sensitive swipe he just teased.

With my mouth open and my head tilted only as far back as the wall will allow, I'm consumed by the pressure and sensations. My heart races and my body tenses, breaths catching in my chest. With three words, the same ones I heard from his porch, behind a screen door, a night not that long ago, he says, "That's it, honey." He slides two fingers into my pussy. "Look at me." I open my eyes, finding his, and I scream. My body jerks forward as my release barrels through me, my pussy pulsing. It's so intense that it doesn't allow any thoughts or words to break through, only complete and utter sexual intoxication. My orgasm rolls from the center of my gravity to the tips of my toes and has me gasping for air, leaving me lightheaded and wanton as he draws out the last of it. The sound of his fingers fucking me and my moans mixed with his are deliciously filthy. My thighs quiver in response, having completely succumbed to the pleasure.

"That was..." I let out a laugh because words are not going to be my strength right now.

"Delicious," he says, smiling as he stares up at me from his knees. His face still hovers between my legs with my arousal smeared along his lips and mustache. Lowering my legs from his grip, he allows my feet to fully meet the ground. "I thought you were sexy before, but seeing you like this with the smell of you on my beard and the taste of you in my mouth..." He rests his chin on my thigh, a glazed-over look in his half-lidded eyes. "How am I not supposed to fall in love with you now?"