Page 74

Ace

A few months later. . .

“Five blends,” I say, with my fingers steepled in front of my mouth.

Laney laughs out, “You’re serious?”

My wife smiles as she looks at Lincoln, who’s biting on the tip of his pen, waiting for me to keep talking. We’ve worked together for long enough that he was eager for the other shoe to drop. There was always more with me. However, new blends are something I typically shoot down without pause.

Hadley’s pretty blue eyes shift to me, knowing what else I plan to tell them. They’re going to flip their shit.

“Hadley, if you bounce your legs any faster in that chair, you’re going to take off in flight.”

Giggling with mischief, she leans her elbows on the table. “Then stop stalling and get to the good part.” She waves her hand to urge me to keep talking. “And aside from moral support, I was hoping to fit in a quickie before I need to open.”

Lincoln barks out a laugh and holds up a fist for her to bump.

And I give my wife a look that just reads, you’re in so much trouble later .

As she bites at her lower lip, I focus back on the entire purpose of this meeting—to get them on board with this. I ran the concepts by Griz this morning during breakfast, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man so damn happy.

“Proud of you, Ace,” he said. “For a lot of things, but you listen. That’s not something I take for granted.

” It came with a shoulder squeeze and a smile from Shelby, who had witnessed it even though she was pretending she was listening to Hadley carry on about the horse sanctuary they’d been talking about building out.

“We’ll have five specialty blends, providing you both like them and they’re differentiated enough. And they’ll be distributed and exclusive only to five selected resorts worldwide. Plus?—”

Lincoln cuts in with, “There’s a plus?” He turns to look at Grant, head rearing back. “Are you hearing this?”

Grant glances at Lincoln, and then focuses back on me. “I’m right here, Linc. Yeah, I’m listening to this.”

“You’re both so damn ornery sometimes it’s almost funny,” Hadley says.

Lincoln rolls his eyes at her, but he’s still smiling.

“The Den will have one as well, a specialty bourbon that my wife has so kindly poured a sample of for everyone.”

With that, she passes the tray down the long table in the conference room.

We could have had this chat after dinner tonight, but Faye and Shelby always looked bored out of their minds when we started talking about business, and Griz was doing his best to try to steer himself away from the everyday decision-making.

The glasses are held up to the light—a darker amber than normal, thanks to the double barrel and its storage.

“It’s finished in its own smaller barrel, meaning it never leaves oak until it hits your glass.

It’s sweeter.” I glance at Lincoln, since he’ll understand the numbers.

“It’ll be the highest corn percentage we’ve used, clocking in at 73 percent, with 19 percent rye and 8 percent barley. ”

“And what are we calling it?” Laney asks as she sips, humming her enjoyment at the taste.

I glance at my wife and, I’ll be honest, the level of excitement she has right now, I can’t possibly take from her. Giving her a wink, I nod for her to go ahead.

“It’s The Sugared Daddy blend,” she bursts out.

Grant glances at me with a shake of his head as Laney giggles beside him. “You’re serious?”

I shrug my shoulders, wiping my hand over my mouth to keep from smiling as excitedly as Hadley. Jesus, I love this woman.

But she cuts in even before I can start explaining. It’s her logic, anyway. “Grant, this is an exclusive blend being served only at two locations in the world—Midnight Proof and The Den.”

“One,” I correct with a quirked eyebrow. “I said yes to that name because it will only be served at one location. Our adult, invite-only club, The Den. The number of people who will ever taste that blend will be so small that the name barely matters.”

Hadley gives me a sarcastic glare and rolls her eyes. “Fine. The Den.” She covers the side of her mouth and whispers to Laney and Linc, “And Midnight Proof.”

“I like it,” Lincoln says, with Grant nodding as well. “It’s good bourbon, with some bigger adjustments to the mash, but you’re keeping all the rules intact. It’s smart.”

“Alright, my job here is done. I need to get moving,” Hadley says, getting up from her chair.

“I love you all—you, especially.” She points at Laney, giving her a big hug, and then slides her ass on the table next to Lincoln.

“You, almost the most.” Holding out her fist, they do their ridiculous combination of a secret handshake.

“Are you coming to Lark’s game tomorrow?” Lincoln asks.

“Obviously,” she says. “I told her I’d bring the speaker. I think they could really use some walk-out music when they're going up to bat. Lily has been working on the playlists.”

Then she stops next to me. “Husband.” Leaning down, she wraps her hand around my throat, much like I enjoy doing to her, and kisses me as if we’re the only two in the room, taking what she wants.

Honestly, I couldn’t give a shit. If the other people in here weren’t my family, I’d throw her down on this table and have my way with her.

When she pulls back, her lips flushed and wet, I’m ready to tell everyone to get the fuck out.

“See you in a little while?” she whispers

I smile up at her. “Yeah, see you in a little while, sugar.”

“Whew!" Shaking her head dramatically, like she’s hot and bothered by our kiss, her dark hair waves behind her as she wiggles her arms. Swaying her ass away, she shoves through the glass doors, starting off down the hall, shouting from just outside, “Missin’ you already, baby!”

“You two were giving Faye and me shit about overdone displays of affection, but you both are out of control. You realize that?” Lincoln says with a smirk as he stands.

I can’t help but cover my mouth and try my best to hide my laugh.

But it’s my baby brother who surprises me when he says, “Nah. Keep it up, Ace. We like to see it.”

Laney clasps her hand with his as they move toward the door.

“You might not remember this, but it was the first time I'd ever met Hadley. I’m sure people had been seeing it for a while, but the minute you saw her getting out of her car, you smiled, just a pinch. Your whole body language changed. I’ve been hoping it would happen for the two of you ever since.

” She smiles at me and says, “I’m so glad it did. ”

The bottle top makes a popping sound, and I whip my head around to find her pouring a finger into each glass.

“Ace, you’re the one who told me great bottles were meant to drink, not sit.” She passes me a glass, clinks hers with mine, and sips. “We’re doing something incredible, and that deserves a minute and a few fingers of bourbon.”

She smiles as I take a sip of the only bottle left from my father’s last reserve. The entirety of his barrels had been lost in a fire. They weren’t anything special, just a higher proof single barrel. It’s the last of him that I have, and I’ve been afraid to let it go.

“Whoa.” She coughs, covering her mouth. “That hugged all the way down. Please tell me it was either expensive or nostalgic.” With watery eyes, she rubs at the center of her chest, right where you feel that Kentucky burn.

“140 proof, give or take at this point,” I say, resigning to having a sip. It’s been poured, and I don’t need to get worked up about what’s already done. “Cheapest bottle we used to sell. But there aren’t any more in circulation. It was the last batch of my father’s specialty reserve.”

She blinks and stays still for a moment, maybe not realizing exactly the level of “special” this bottle really carries.

But she’s right—bottles were made to be enjoyed, not just stored.

She has a way of reminding me that life is meant to be enjoyed too, savored and shared.

She glances down at the table and then slides her small black notebook across the desk.

“Go ahead. You shared with me, so I’d like to share something special with you. ”

“You don’t have to?—”

But she cuts me off with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “I’m very aware of that. But I want to. It’s all good things.”

I glide my thumb along the worn leather.

I’ve wondered for a long time what she puts in here and now she’s offering it to me like it’s the last secret to be out in the open.

When I flip the pages, she’s written in small letters a variety of details about my brothers and Griz, observations about the horses she’s ridden, as well as her own, descriptions of the weather or delicious foods or random things that make her happy.

Then there are pages solely about me and how I make her feel, something that has my chest warming.

One that stands out is filled with words swirling around my name at the center— asshole, kind, strong, wickedly smart, stupidly sexy, and so many more, she had to squeeze her writing onto the page .

There are some months that she simplifies into short sentences, and other spots that hold lists of things that I know are her favorites—Luxardo cherries, horses with glitter hooves, song lyrics that I know she’s used as advice for Lark and Lily, words of affirmation, and a whole page dedicated purely to insults, including— swashbuckling cunt bag, twatwaffle, asshat, titty-tally-whacker, and dick-cicle.

My smile widens at that, and I realize I’ve been smiling more with every new section, getting this special glimpse inside her mind.

As I flip through more of the book, there are descriptions of mash bills and whiskeys, and the process of bourbon as a whole, as if she took notes when Lincoln explained it to her.

I glance up at her, surprised to find it.

She’s watching me and how I’m taking it all in. Without looking up, I say, “On your left, top drawer.” There are lists of what looks like every barrel we’ve ever made. It’s more proof that she’s always belonged here—and she made sure of it.

This is her, an entire collection on Hadley Jean Foxx scribbled on pages.

Out of my periphery, I can see her move to the right first, then the left. She drags the drawer open, but she stays quiet. When I look up, she’s flipping through a stuffed drawer of just about every flavor of Pop Rocks. “These all for me?”

I move closer and pluck a pack out and tear it open.

“Someone told me once that these sweet things make you feel less anxious. Figured it couldn’t hurt to stock up.

” I pour some into my mouth and they instantly start crackling some gross blue raspberry flavor.

She opens her mouth, and I tip some in as she giggles.

Pulling her against me, I push the hair from her shoulders, tossing the packet aside, and framing her face with my hands.

I rub my thumb along her bottom lip as the sound of crackling rocks rings out and makes me smile.

“I don’t have a book. But I promise to make enough memories—good ones—that’ll help you fill even more pages. ”

She smiles, kissing the pad of my thumb.

“Une preuve d’amour,” I say, and she hums sweetly in my hold.

Her eyes glisten with emotion, relishing the words Presh said to us on our wedding day. The same ones marked along our skin. They were our truth long before we ever said the words or recited the vows. She is that for me and maybe always has been proof of love.