Bourbon & Proof (The Bourbon Boys, #3)

by Victoria Wilder

Daddy Foxx is waiting . . .

The truth is, I want to be loved out loud.

Truthfully, it’s exhausting—all the convoluted hypocritical messages that, in my mid-thirties, are altogether paralyzing.

My devil is a Kentucky bourbon boy but, goddesses, he’s always looked like a man.

I wish you timeless energy to spend together, endless time to grow together,

That’s what people always misunderstand about bourbon. It evolves along your tongue, and the details are found only when you savor it. I like the discipline it takes to enjoy it.

“Rosie Gold Foxx, you better save some of those moves for later!”

“Find something to ground you.”

Oh, how I love to see him bite back whatever emotion I’m able to stir.

“Hadley Jean, get your ass over here and dance with me,” Lincoln shouts over the music,

The Foxx men are good at that—Lincoln provides encouragement, Griz has wisdom, Grant’s the good conscience, and Ace is my rook.

“You just had a whole conversation in there, didn’t you?” Smiling, he points to his temple.

“You’re even more of a bear when you’re hangry, so take a bite and then you can tell me all about the rules I’m going to break.”

She wants me to call her sugar.

He and his brothers and grandfather did something that I hadn’t even realized until this moment: Turned me more into a Foxx than a Finch.

I keep thinking about how our chess game felt like foreplay.

“Best friend turned sister is the kind of upgrade I can get onboard with, though.”

As I sit up, I spy two ibuprofen, a water, and a clementine next to my black notebook and charging phone.

I finish peeling my clementine. “My son used to leave one of those on the boys’ nightstands every night. Told me he wanted to make sure they always had something sweet to wake up to.”

I swallow and realize that I’m being outmaneuvered.

“You want me the way that I want you. The way I’ve always wanted you,”

It probably says a lot about my feelings for her too—hidden in plain sight.

“You’re not wearing panties.” “Somebody has been buying them all,”

I know exactly what he wants to hear, even without looking at the smirk I can feel playing on his lips. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Just go do it.” He pinches the curve of my ass. “We both know you’re the one who can boss me around every fucking way you want.”

I might find the kind of life my parents had. Full, hard, happy, and brimming with so much love that everyone who knew them felt it.”

“Because anybody else wasn’t you.” I hold up a ring pinched between two fingers.

Let me love you, sugar, like I should have from the start.”

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

I had no interest in thinking about when it might end, only that I hoped it was a long and healthy one.