Page 20

“Your mom thought your dad was the cutest guy in the world.” I smile as I picture a young Linc.

They both know this story, but I think they like to be reminded every once in a while.

Their mother, Olivia, passed away just over six years ago now.

“And he tried to be sooo cool and pretend like he didn’t notice her, but we were persistent,” I say, thinking back to all of those years ago.

“Me and your mom followed him home after school for almost two months before he asked if we wanted to see the tire swing down by the river. It didn’t take long for them to fall in love after that.

” I’m still not too sure how it happened, but we ended up being fast friends too.

And it’s a friendship I treasure. People would always make assumptions before Faye came around—that one of us felt more than friendship or that men and women couldn’t be “just friends.” We were the exception to all of it.

Or it was simply that he had fallen for the girls’ mom, and I had taken one look at the oldest Foxx brother, and my brain chemistry had been altered.

I, of course, keep that information to myself.

I pull up to the main house—that’s what mostly everyone calls it, but it’s Ace and Griz’s place.

Holding the door open for the girls, I tilt my head back and enjoy the sweet smell that carries all the way over here from the distillery.

Fiasco always holds a sweetness like sugar and cinnamon.

My mom said once that it’s because Fiasco is sweeter than anywhere else.

But it’s Foxx Bourbon that makes the air almost taste like freshly baked croissants and pecan pie.

There was a cocktail-infused night recently with Laney and Faye when we licked the air between bites of charcuterie.

Lincoln explained to me a long time ago that it was the yeast breaking down the sugars in the massive vats of their mash bills.

Toss in thousands of oak barrels aging at all temperatures and that smell is what’s left until the bourbon is ready.

“Hey, Uncle Ace,” Lily says as she shimmies her body out of the back seat, smiling as she holds up the boxes from The Holey Donut.

Without stopping, he says, “Save me one for later, Lily,” and keeps walking straight past us, no eye contact and seemingly all sorts of angry.

His hair is a mess, like he’s been running his fingers through it, and the scowl on his face is murderous.

He glances briefly at me as he passes, but there’s no trace of the man who, regardless of his mood, always nods at me, or at the very least, gives his nieces some attention. Something’s wildly wrong.

“Did my little flowers bring me donuts?!” Grant calls out, pulling our attention and effectively distracting the girls from the ire that just billowed off Ace.

An easy smile takes over Grant’s face as he focuses on the girls and the donuts, while Lincoln blows past him, stopping next to me.

He looks defeated for not catching up with his older brother.

What the hell just happened? It’s not even noon! ?

Glancing toward Ace’s back getting farther away, my gaze swings back up at Lincoln, then over to Grant. I raise my eyebrows, silently asking them what’s going on.

Grant just gives a small shake of his head, signaling, don’t ask .

Fat chance of that .

Lincoln’s hands are slung into his pockets, watching his brother walk away with nothing but anger wafting from him.

“What’s going on?” I ask, shifting my weight. Whatever this is, it isn’t just a disagreement about a blend.

“Griz decided to tell us he’s officially retiring,” Linc says in a less-than-enthused tone.

I crack a smile. I figured that would happen eventually—none of us are getting any younger. “And that’s bad?” I ask, trying to unpack the reality that Griz won’t be in charge any longer. Ace had taken most of the control years ago, but Griz is Foxx Bourbon. He’d built that brand with his boys.

“Yeah, it’s bad. Griz decided to add a stipulation?—”

Of course he did. Griz always had something cooking under every surface. I’ve been around here long enough to know that.

Lincoln meets my gaze. “It’ll be split evenly between his married grandsons.”

My breath catches. As I open my mouth to speak, I can’t help the laugh that bursts from it.

Lincoln nudges my arm. “Yeah, I had the exact same reaction. I don’t know what Griz is getting at.

All I know is, there are only a couple of times in my life that I’ve seen my brother that angry or upset about something.

” He exhales and answers my next question before I ask.

“Griz won’t change it. I don’t know what the old man is thinking, other than he’s in for a helluva fight.

From the three of us, not just Ace. The stipulation is ridiculous. ”

I stare out at the stables, where Ace just disappeared, and think that getting married is the easy part.

It’s finding someone, falling in love, and then making that all happen before.

..The idea is ridiculous, but viable. Maybe it was cooked up from too many of Griz’s book clubs, but if he just needs to get married. ..

“Don’t laugh,” Lincoln says, noticing my jaw’s still practically hanging open. “I think Ace is more hurt than even mad.”

I cover my mouth. I’m not smiling at Ace’s current predicament. Suddenly, I’m warring with myself about how I can come to his rescue. A man who didn’t bat an eye to rescue me.

Crossing my arms, I stare at the massive Foxx logo painted across the stable roof, nerves thrumming with an idea.

Maybe I’ve finally reached the lowest depths of loneliness, and I’m having an existential crisis. Even shifting aside the fact that I want him on a biblical, yet pathetic, level, I could be his most convenient solution...

It’s about time I pay him back for taking care of me all those years ago.