Page 53

Hadley

June: An iced coffee waiting for me just the way I like it (except I think he swapped out cream and honey for his protein shake...It’s not terrible.)

An All-Star jersey signed by the greatest pitcher of all-time, Gray Turner.

My car has been cleaned spotless—I’ve discounted the idea of it being sprites who have a hankering for muscle cars and decide it must be the husband.

I roll my hips against his plush lips and relish the way he holds my thighs so I can grind myself at just the right angle.

It’s the perfect amount of pressure and so fucking freeing to practically smother a man as he eats you out.

Tipping my head back, I hold on to my breasts, pinching both nipples as I get lost in the rhythm of chasing my orgasm.

He growls just as I’m about to come again, running his teeth along my clit as I jerk against his mouth, moaning my release until I’m out of breath and still wanting more. “I could do that every fucking morning and never tire of it.”

My lips tilt up, cracking a dazed smile. “You making threats down there?”

He hums first, and then pauses a moment to say, “Promises.”

It’s one of the many things about Atticus Foxx that makes him so successful.

He does what he promises. My days look different from his most of the time.

My nights end late, anywhere between two and three in the morning.

And he’s always waiting for me. It doesn’t matter what time his first meetings are happening, or if he has to host a breakfast with vendors; every night, no matter what time I walk in that door, he’s waiting.

Often, he’s in his office, sipping on something and in some roundabout way has a snack prepared for before I go to bed. A nonchalant bowl of carbonara or casual grilled chicken pita.

“What do you mean, you didn’t eat dinner?” he asked when I shoveled a handful of grapes into my mouth from the refrigerator at 2:45 a.m. before he lifted me up on the counter.

My eyebrows rose at his bossy tone. “Well, it was busy. I was down a server, and typical nights like this mean a bag of Dot’s Pretzels and an apple for balance.”

He was not a fan, and that was when the heated dinners started. A plate of something delicious would be hot and ready next to him when I came home.

We have a chess game in progress that’s been ongoing for days by now.

I know I’m going to end up winning, but I’ve entertained a move per night before he either licks my pussy while sprawled on his desk or finger fucks me as I brush my teeth.

He’s ravenous for me, and I never in my life, even with a decently confident self-esteem, felt more sexy or beautiful.

“Hadley, do you think Duchess Fergie might like silver or pink?” Lily calls out.

I stuff my pen into my journal and slip on my boots. I didn’t realize what time it was. Time seems to move quickly when the days are filled with more than just me to look after. While Ace is a very capable man, I also take Griz into account. Spending time with both of them whenever I can.

Faye and Lark come up behind Lily, holding two buckets and a caboodle. After watching the horses in the winner’s circle displayed on the big screen from the Kentucky Derby, Lincoln’s girls decided that my horses needed to feel pretty too. I agreed.

“Alright, this is non-toxic, biodegradable, cosmetic-grade all-natural oil silver and pink glitter for what I’m betting will be the prettiest fucking horses in all of Kentucky,” Faye says as we move into the stables.

“Faye,” Lily and Lark call out with knowing grins.

“Yeah, I know.” She exhales. “Curse purse. I already paid ahead, knowing I was coming to see your Auntie Hadley.” The girls are eleven and thirteen now, and while their curse purse started when they were much younger, I’m betting that if they could swing it, the little swindlers will have the curse purse in effect until they start having to contribute.

The blaring music of Stevie Nicks pulls right up to the stables and flicks all of our attention to the double sliding doors.

Julep comes barking inside, practically announcing her favorite person’s arrival.

And the music doesn’t turn off; instead, it gets louder, and with it comes Laney yelling the words at the top of her lungs—ones that all of us know pretty damn well.

We croon in unison about midnight skies and white-winged doves.

I smile and shout to Lark and Lily, “How do you two know these words?”

They shout back, “It’s Stevie and Miley!” As if that’s a completely reasonable answer. It is, but I don’t know if I’ve ever been prouder.

It’s a core memory moment for me, one I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have in my life—badass women who match my energy and make me feel all levels of warmth and love.

Laney laughs as she lowers the volume and says, “Do you know how excited I am for a girls’ day?”

I bark out a laugh. “Clearly.”

“I brought the important things—Red Vines, chocolate-covered gummy bears, and sour straws for my favorite pre-teens.” She winks at Lark and Lily. “Girls, help me put all of this out and pour some lemonade before we dive into brushing out the horses.”

Laney hands me a Red Vine, but I shake my head, pulling out a clementine from my back pocket. I meant to eat it before heading outside this morning. “How’s married life?” Laney asks as we watch Lark and Lily brush Fergie’s mane.

I don’t even try to bite back the smile. “Better than I expected.”

Faye hits my arm with the back of her hand. “You’re happy.”

It isn’t a question. It’s an observation.

“I’m enjoying all aspects of it.” I glance at them both. “Especially his filthy, delicious mouth and the way he touches me.” I swallow as I think about what he really does to me. “He makes me feel safe, cared for, and...” I sigh. “I just sighed, didn’t I?”

“Yep, and I love it,” Laney says, picking up the tack box to go help the girls.

“You did,” Faye says over a mouthful of gummy bears. “But I fucking love it too. Welcome to the wonderful world of being obsessed with your husband. It’s highly underrated.”

I smile and pop another piece of clementine in my mouth and think, been here for a while now.

Over the course of the morning, we manage to bling out both Fergie and Lady with silver sparkle hooves after a full grooming—from wash to brush.

Faye gives me a smile. “What did you think about the new set from last night?”

My phone buzzing pulls my attention to a local Kentucky number this time.

UNKNOWN

You have no idea what you’re doing...funds have been promised to me and already allocated. I expect the deposit that has been promised.

Do you really think ignoring this is going to make me go away?

It’s the kind of distraction that would usually make me feel anxious, but today, I’m not going to play the victim. I block the number, delete the messages, and focus back on my stunning friend.

“I love all of your choices when it comes to music and costumes, so until the day you’re telling me you don’t want to do burlesque anymore, I’ll always be on board with your sets.”

She nods. “I’ve been having so much fun with the new singer and band too. It’s a great addition, Hadley.”

She glances at her phone, and instead of keeping the conversation on burlesque, she peeks at where Laney is with the girls, making sure they're out of earshot, and says, “I wasn’t sure if I should mention this, but there’s been some discourse at the station between my FBI contacts and local PD in regard to your father. ”

“Anything I should be concerned about?” I ask, suddenly uneasy once again.

This is one of the few crossed lines we have to deal with every now and then.

Faye and her sister are who helped bring all of what Finch & King had been doing to light.

Their mother had worked for my father as a horse trainer.

I never once had a negative thought about Faye or her sister, Maggie.

Only that I wish they had shown up sooner and found a way to get my father locked up before he had hurt so many people.

“Not right now, but the guys at the station are pissed off about his house arrest deal. FBI went hard and heavy, and then the district attorney eased up by not making him sweat it out in central lockup while he awaited trial.”

“I don’t disagree with them,” I say to her, but then, noticing she looks a bit nervous too, I ask, “You doing okay?”

She lets out a clipped laugh. “Am I okay? I want to make sure you are.” With a leveling, tight-lipped smile, she says, “If everyone does their job like they're supposed to, he’ll get exactly what he deserves. And then I think the both of us will be just fine.”

Reaching out, she squeezes my hand. I give her a squeeze back and a genuine smile.

I’m planning to do what I can now to help make things right and use whatever power I have to fix some of the wrongs my father and his business partners caused.

And serve a little punishment of my own in the process.

It won’t undo any of the loss or hurt, but it will put pieces of our town back together again.

Starting with getting business owners out of the red and spending as much of the Finch & King money as I possibly can to help them do it.

“That will be a complete closing of the account, Miss Finch. Are you sure that?—”

I cut him off and make it very clear that I don’t want to be asked if I know what I’m doing. “Rethink asking that question, sir. If I were my husband, I bet you would never consider such a condescending curiosity.”

This afternoon, I walked into the bank with Ace, invited the realtor who handles all of the commercial real estate in Fiasco, and felt confident with a solid plan that should feed a long-term strategy. And it started with cleaning my father out and doing it with fucking flare.

He swallows down whatever uneasiness he may have had, face turning red as he nods.