Table of Contents

  Copyright

  I One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  II Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Whiskey Smoke Teaser... One

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright © 2023 by Abbi Glines

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at www.abbiglinesbooks.com

  Cover Designer: www.Damonza.com

  Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

  Formatting: Melissa Stevens, The Illustrated Author, www.theillustratedauthor.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  To every reader who enjoys a slightly twisted, naughty heroine

  who isn’t afraid to admit it.

  I

  There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable.

  —Mark Twain

  One

  Trev

  Horse racing was in my blood. It was the second-most important part of my family’s legacy. However, if I was being brutally honest, this was my favorite part of the Kentucky Derby weekend—the Derby Eve gala. I typically hated fucking galas, but not this one. I didn’t even mind wearing a tux. My best friend didn’t seem to share my sentiments. Saxon Houston looked annoyed. He was definitely here for the races. Horse racing was his first love.

  Smirking, I turned toward him to lay one of my smart-ass comments that would get a smile out of the guy when my eyes found someone else instead. All other thoughts left me. The music being performed onstage by some old famous dude faded away. It was as if no one else was in the room. Just her.

  Fucking hell, she was smokin’.

  The lights caught the different shades of blonde in her long, curly hair. Bare, sun-kissed shoulders and—holy shit—that body in that formfitting hot-pink dress. She wasn’t looking at me. Not directly. Her focus was on the old dude singing. From where I stood, her lips looked full. I wanted to see her eyes. I had a thing about eyes.

  “I’ll be back—maybe,” I said, not taking my gaze off her when I spoke to Saxon.

  “Where are you—oh,” he replied, and I knew that he’d spotted my target.

  He could keep his nice-guy bullshit right where it was. I had seen her first.

  Moving through the crowd, I didn’t even stop to speak to the Packers quarterback who had grown up in Ocala. Our families were friends. Even if Jon Bon Jovi stepped in front of me—and I was pretty sure he was here—I wasn’t stopping.

  She took a sip from the drink in her hand and finally let her gaze travel across the room.

  Who was she with? Why the fuck was she alone?

  Reaching her side, I pulled out all my Hughes charm and decided she was about to fall hard. I’d make sure of it.

  “You owe me a drink,” I said, leaning down close to her ear.

  The tiniest jerk of her shoulders was followed by a slow turn of her body toward me. She lifted her eyes and … fuck me.

  “I doubt it,” she replied. Her thick Southern drawl was a smooth, smoky sound.

  What color were her eyes? Honey? Could eyes be the color of honey? Because hers looked like warm honey with sunlight shining through. I struggled to get my head back in the game after she’d thrown me off with eyes I hadn’t expected.

  “Ah, but you do.” I flashed her a smile that had been working for me since puberty.

  She smirked. “Please continue. I can’t wait to hear the rest of this cheesy pickup line.”

  Okay, fine, it was a pickup line, but, damn, it wasn’t cheesy. It was fucking smooth.

  “Because when I saw you, I dropped mine.”

  A grin tugged at those full pink lips, and then she laughed.

  Score. It’d worked.

  “What color are your eyes?” I asked, fascinated.

  “Hazel,” she replied with another laugh.

  I shook my head. “No, I’ve seen hazel eyes. That is something else. Sunshine and honey.”

  “Now, what would you have said if they’d been blue? What’s your pickup line for that color?”

  “That wasn’t a line. I’m fucking serious.”

  “Mmhmm,” she replied, taking a sip of her drink.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Does it really matter? I don’t even know you.”

  Ah, but we were gonna fix that.

  I held out my hand. “Trev Hughes,” I said.

  The flicker of recognition in her eyes told me she must be connected to the horse racing world. Not just a guest or someone wanting to experience the Kentucky Derby. She knew the last name Hughes. Her eyes lowered to look at my hand as if she wasn’t sure if touching me was something she wanted to do.

  What had Dad done to her family? He’d better not have fucked this up for me before it even had a chance.

  I started to attempt damage control when she finally lifted her hand and slid it inside mine. Her skin was soft, and her hand was dainty with pink nails to match her dress. I liked how my hand seemed to swallow hers. A weird tightening in my chest that I wasn’t familiar with struck me.

  “Gypsi Parker,” she replied.

  I could see in her gaze that she was searching mine for any recognition. But I’d never met anyone named Gypsi in my life, and there was no fucking way I’d have forgotten her. Especially with those eyes.

  Reluctantly, I released her hand but stepped closer to her, then bent my head to whisper in her ear. “I know you aren’t here alone,” I said. “Please tell me there isn’t a guy somewhere who has a claim on you.”

  She laughed again. “That’s a tricky question.”

  No, it wasn’t. I needed her to answer me and then point him out so I could make him disappear.

  “How so?”

  She smirked again and turned to look out over the crowd. “A man did bring me.” She paused and glanced back at me. There was a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “He bought everything I’m wearing.” Reaching up, she touched the simple diamond necklace around her neck. “Even the jewelry.”

  “I’m really hoping he’s your father.”

  She laughed. “No. He is definitely not my father.” This amused her. The humor in those honey-and-sunshine eyes was unmistakable.

  “Fuck,” I muttered.

  She tilted her head to the side and reached out to touch my arm. I fought the urge to cover her hand with mine and keep it there. I’d dress her and buy her jewelry better than what she was wearing now, if that was what it would take. I started to say so, but she spoke first.

  “You’re not what I expected,” she replied. “I think we might end up being good friends.”

  Oh, hell no. She was not friend-zoning me. When she started to move her hand away, I reached up and grasped it.

  “I’m thinking something a little more exciting than friends.”

  Her eyes shifted away from me then, and I saw a change in her expression before she turned to look at me again.

  “I need to be going.”

  “I’ll go with you,” I told her.

  She wasn’t running off like goddamn Cinderella.

  She sighed, and I could see the battle in her eyes before she lifted them to me.

  “Okay, fine. You lead the way.”

  Hell yes! I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her close to my side before walking toward an exit. The gala wasn’t doing it for me anymore. Time to change locations.

  Just as we reached an exit, my cell started ringing. The ringtone was my father’s. Fucking hell, this’d better not be family shit he wanted me in on tonight. I considered ignoring it, but I knew I’d regret it later. Glancing down at the girl beside me, I debated on it. She might just be worth my father’s wrath.

  “You gonna get that?” she asked once we were outside.

  With a sigh, I reached into my pocket. “Yeah.”

  “Get Saxon. Meet Levi and Kye at their hotel suite. There’s an issue that needs handled,” Dad barked at me.

  Motherfucker!

  “Saxon?” I asked, making sure I’d heard him right.

  “Yes. Kenneth agrees it’s time,” h
e replied.

  Kenneth was Saxon’s dad. He was also part of the family. Saxon hadn’t been on any family business before. He never mentioned it, and I had thought he would just handle the horse racing part of our world. Hearing that Dad was bringing him into the other side surprised me. I wasn’t sure Saxon had it in him.

  “Okay.” Irritated, I hung up and turned back to figure out how in the hell I was going to explain this to Gypsi and get her to hand over her phone number.

  But I didn’t get a chance to figure it out.

  She was gone.

  Two

  Gypsi

  I loved her. I truly did. There had never been a dull moment in my life. When I was sad, she’d spend money we didn’t have on candy, ice cream, chips, and soda for us to eat instead of dinner. If times got hard, she’d turn the small camper we called home into a dance party, complete with hits from the ’90s. If there was a new movie in the theater I wanted to see, she’d flirt with the guy or girl at the ticket counter and convince them to let us in for free. Often, she got a bucket of popcorn thrown in too. Fawn Parker was a beautiful, energetic force of nature. She was my best friend, but she was also my mom.

  Understanding my mother’s decisions was something I’d given up on years ago. When she wanted something, she found a way to make it happen. There was no obstacle that she allowed to set her back. She often left my head spinning while I tried to keep up. This was one of those times.

  This time, it wasn’t a thing she wanted. It was a lifestyle. The lemon-colored dress she was wearing—which left one shoulder bare while the bow that held the dress up rested on the other shoulder—the ridiculous hat, and the diamond necklace that made me nervous every time I looked at it were stunning with her pale blonde hair she had pulled back in a sleek ponytail. The teardrop earrings matched the diamonds around her neck, and I wondered if it had occurred to her that what she was wearing cost more than what we’d made last year. I doubted it. Her bright smile, which I’d seen reel a man in with its powerful flash, was in place as she stood, watching the racetrack below as if the winner of this race mattered to us. She knew nothing about horse racing, but she lived for the thrill of new things.

  “Enjoying yourself?” my mom’s newest conquest, Garrett Hughes, asked as he stepped up beside her, placing a hand on her bare lower back.

  She turned her man-killer smile on him. “This is incredible,” she gushed. “The energy is intoxicating.”

  The slight lift of his lips and glint of approval in his eyes made me want to groan. This was more serious than she’d let on. When she’d come home with the dresses and accessories for us to wear with designer names, I’d been concerned. Being picked up by a limo, taken to a private airstrip, escorted onto a private jet had all made me question if this was another of those moments my mother’s magic had made happen or if it was something more. That the man had fallen for the Fawn Parker enchantment.

  I was sure normal girls would be thrilled for their mother. Garrett Hughes was a powerful billionaire. If I believed in fairy tales, I would be right on board. Because if Mom was taken care of, I could finally go start my life. Move out and travel the world. Just me and my camera. Find my own path. I knew college wasn’t something I’d get a chance at until later in life. When I’d made enough money to afford it.

  However, I wasn’t most girls, and my mom was not a normal mom. She was a beautiful face with a wild soul that couldn’t be held on to for long. I had to be here when it all fell apart or she needed to run from it all. It was a burden that got heavier with each passing year.

  We had only parked our camper in Ocala, Florida, three weeks ago. Enough time for me to get a job at a coffee shop and Mom to get a job as a cocktail waitress at an elite private club. Our plan had been for us to stop long enough to make some money before continuing north. We had spent a year in Miami, and for us, that had been a long stop. Mom was determined that we were going up the East Coast this time. The plan had not been for her to start dating one of the wealthy members from the club where she worked.

  I had googled Garrett Hughes. Even if Mom wanted to finally settle down and get married, this would not be the man to do that with. He didn’t have a good track record with marriage. The number of beautiful women that he’d been photographed with over the past year alone was impressive. If the day came my mom decided to marry, she needed a man who adored her and the wild, free spirit that she was. The life this man lived was not one my mother knew how to fit into. She was beautiful, but she wasn’t elegant and refined, like the other women in attendance. The thing about my mom was, she didn’t give one small fuck about that. Fawn didn’t know what it was like to feel insecure.

  “How would you like to go down to the winner’s circle suite for the next race?” Garrett asked my mom. “We can always return here to the mansion if you prefer it.”

  The fact that this elaborate room with celebrity chefs preparing the food and a concierge waiting on our every need was called the mansion made me want to roll my eyes. Wealthy people made up crap to spend their money on. Until today, I’d had no idea the level of indulgences provided to those who could afford it.

  “That sounds wonderful.” Mom placed her hand on his arm, then glanced over at me. “What about you? Want to go, Gypsi?”

  Her eyes danced with the thrill of adventure. She loved experiencing new things. Me? Not so much. I felt completely out of my element. I also felt as if Garrett wanted some time with Mom today without her nineteen-year-old daughter tagging along. He’d generously provided my outfits and travel for the weekend, along with my mom’s. I was happy to let him have her to himself for a while.

  “Is it okay if I stay here?” I asked.

  “Sure, I think that’s fine.” She tilted her head back to look up at her date.

  Garrett gazed down at my mother’s upturned face as if she were the most ravishing creature on earth. He was not her type. She normally went for the bad boys. The unstable, often-dangerous, tattooed sort with motorcycles. He leaned down and brushed a kiss close to her ear as he whispered something that made her sink in closer to him. The heated spark that ignited in Garrett’s eyes had me turning my attention back to the track below.

  “When does Hughes Farm have another race?” Mom asked. Her enthusiasm wasn’t fake. It never was. She was enjoying this.

  “Shakespeare races in Churchill Downs soon. We can watch it from the winner’s circle suite. You’ll enjoy the experience,” he replied with clear affection in his tone.

  “Oh, that’s exciting!”

  The obvious joy on her face seemed to please Garrett. His body language and the way he kept my mother close to his side screamed possessive.

  Bad idea, Mr. Hughes. Mom isn’t the female you try and claim. She belongs to herself. Always has.

  “Call me if you change your mind,” Mom told me before Garrett led her toward the exit.

  I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but it felt as if people parted like the Red Sea for Garrett as he walked through the room. Many gave him a smile, greeting, nod of their head, but all of them looked at him with an odd reverence. It was unsettling to watch. Something bothered me about that, and I wasn’t sure why exactly.

  Turning my focus back to the view in front of me, I looked over the crowd. I had never seen so many hats in my life. Many were completely ridiculous. I was thankful the hat—which had been supplied by Garrett Hughes’s stylist, who had apparently been the one to choose our outfits—was a simple, floppy cotton-candy-pink hat that would work brilliantly on the beach. The pink dress I was wearing was strapless and cinched at the waist but fluffed out with a twisty chiffon material, stopping just past my mid-thigh. It was much more elaborate than the hat. As were the strappy white heels on my feet. Teardrop pearl earrings and a matching necklace, which was almost a choker, finished off the look. This was the second fancy outfit I’d worn since arriving, and both had been pink. Different shades but pink nonetheless.

  Mom had convinced me not to pull my hair back, like hers. My hair was long and curly. My mom coveted it. She also liked for me to display it. The honey-blonde color was darker than hers, but she swore that the different shades of blonde streaks, caused by the sun, created a masterpiece that I shouldn’t keep from the world. To make her happy, I had left it down, allowing it to curl on its own.