Every Little Promise: Orchid Valley, #0.5

By Lexi Ryan

One night in Vegas. One shot at a second chance.

 

When I fell in love with Brinley Knox, she was the spoiled daughter of the wealthiest family in Orchid Valley. I was the troublemaker orphan, brought to town to find the straight and narrow.

 

She was the homecoming princess. I was the hired help.

 

She was the perfect daughter. I was the cautionary tale.

 

We were young enough to think we could beat the odds. Naïve enough to think the world would make room for true love. Neither of us was prepared for the bitter cold of reality.

 

I haven't seen her for ten years. Until tonight.

 

Face-to-face with a woman who should be a stranger, I recognize the heart of the girl I never stopped loving.

She's giving me one night. I'm betting everything on making it more.

 

From New York Times bestselling author Lexi Ryan comes a sexy and emotional new story. Every Little Promise is a 28,000-word prequel to Every Little Piece of Me.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lexi Ryan
• Release date: Apr 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781940832159

Book preview

Chapter One

Marston

It’s been more than ten years since Brinley Knox ripped out my heart, and I still see her everywhere—pumping gas in Orange County, waiting tables in Toronto, riding a Spin bike in a Manhattan fitness center, and, one desperately lonely night, working the pole at an Atlanta gentlemen’s club.

Tonight, she’s sitting at the bar at my favorite Vegas nightclub, wearing a little black dress and sipping a martini.

Incoming, my friend Alec says, his elbow digging into my side. Damn, she’s fine.

I struggle to pull my attention off the sexy brunette—a doppelganger of my first love—and follow my friend’s gaze. There’s a blonde sauntering toward me with a martini in one hand and a glass tumbler in the other. She’s hot as hell in a skirt that would test indecent exposure laws anywhere other than Vegas and has the kind of long, toned legs that should send my imagination running wild.

And I have zero interest.

All yours, I tell Alec.

He grunts out a dry laugh. She only has eyes for you, I’m afraid.

My attention’s already back on the brunette at the bar, and I will her to turn around. The way she’s sitting sideways in her seat, legs crossed at the knee, head turned away, I can see more thigh than face. While I typically wouldn’t complain about the view, I need confirmation that it’s not her.

I should let it go. It’s never her. She’s just on my mind because it’s September twenty-first.

The bartender told me you were drinking bourbon, the blonde says when she reaches our table. She offers me the tumbler.

From his post across the room, the bartender gives me a curt nod. His grin says it all. He thinks he did me a favor by sending this woman over. Maybe some nights I would agree, but tonight I’m too distracted by the Ghost of Christmas Past.

It’s Knox bourbon, the blonde says. I thought you might want to get a taste of how they make it where I come from.

That gets my attention, and I frown as I swivel my gaze back to her. What?

Knox bourbon, she says, her tongue dancing along the rim of her martini glass. Black label. You’ll love it.

I’ve spent the last ten years steering clear of anything with the Knox name, but if this woman is from the home of Knox bourbon . . .

I take the glass. Thanks. What’s your name?

I’m Savannah. She offers a delicate hand, and I shake it briefly and even manage a smile before swirling the bourbon under my nose.

Some people think all bourbon smells the same, but a true connoisseur can smell the difference in every variety. Knox bourbon smells like oak and pear with notes of first love, stolen kisses, and heartache.

Savannah.

My friends call me Savvy, she says.

I scan my memory for the name. You’re from Orchid Valley?

Well, from Atlanta originally, but I live in the OV now. You know it?

I open my mouth to explain I lived there briefly in high school, but every word disappears from my mind when the brunette across the room finally turns. Once I see her full profile, the rest of the world falls away.

I’m not imagining things. Dark hair, high cheekbones, lips that can’t possibly be as soft as they are in my memory. Brinley Knox.

That’s my friend Brinley, Savannah says, following my gaze. Her parents actually own the Knox distillery in Orchid Valley.

"The Brinley Knox, Alec says, and now we’re all staring at her. She’s smoking hot," he mutters.

I shoot him a look, and he holds up both hands, his face a mask of innocence.

How do you know Brinley? Savannah asks him. She turns to me. Do you know her too?

As if she senses our attention on her, Brinley turns toward us, and her spine goes rigid. Her lips part, and when she meets my eyes, I can’t breathe.

I’m already out of my seat and heading her way.

Marston, Alec calls after me, are you sure you should—

Marston? Savannah scrambles to keep up with my long strides. She grabs my arm. "You’re Marston Rowe?"

Yeah. Now if you’ll excuse me . . .

She tries to hold me tighter, but I shrug off her touch, not taking my eyes off Brinley. Fuck me. It’s really her. I keep my gaze locked on those blue eyes with every step closer, oblivious to everyone around me.

The sight of her after all these years is both a punch to the gut and a balm to old wounds. This is the bitter and the sweet. This is the freefall into memories of first love and regrets of things left unsaid.

When I step up to the bar beside her, her eyes are all over my face, my chest, and down to my waist before slowly roaming back up. It’s as if she needs to catalog every inch of me to convince herself I’m real—or maybe that’s what I want to believe, and she’s really sitting there wishing me away. Marston?

Brinley. Her name is a hushed whisper off my lips. The way you speak in church or after witnessing a miracle. Because damn. It’s really her.

She hurt me in a way I never thought anyone could. I was too young and too proud to fight for what we had, so I let her go. I walked away, even when every part of me wanted to hold on. But now, taking in her big eyes and that soft skin, staring at those lips I spent hours worshipping . . . I’d swallow all my pride if it came with a taste of her.

But Brinley’s gaze isn’t like her friend’s. Savannah was a woman on a mission, ready to seduce and be seduced, whereas Brinley’s appraisal is all about checking in on an old friend.

I allow myself an extra beat to take in the tan skin of her thigh, the low back of her dress, and her red-bottomed fuck-me heels.

Brinley, look who I found. Savannah’s practically panting as she smacks a hand on my shoulder. I’d like to take a moment to make it clear I had no idea who he was when I went over there.

Brinley blinks away from me and smirks at her friend. "Marston was the . . ."

The man candy I was ogling? Clearly! Savannah shrugs and gives me a quick once-over. "I mean, can you blame me?"

Brinley gapes at her friend. Savvy!

Savannah chuckles and then backs away. I think I’ll go chat with Marston’s buddy and give you two time to play catch-up.

The way Brinley bites her lip makes me think she’s not sure this is the best plan, but her friend slips away before she can object. I don’t miss her hard swallow as she turns her attention back to me. "If I’d known you were the one she’d set out to seduce . . . I wait, wanting the rest of that thought, but she doesn’t finish. You look good. She laughs awkwardly. As Savvy already established."

So do you. My gaze dips to take her in again. More beautiful than ever.

Her cheeks tinge red. Brinley Knox, only living heir to the Knox bourbon empire, has the world thrown at her feet, but she still blushes at compliments from the delinquent orphan who stole her first kiss. Thank you.

Happy birthday.

Her eyes widen, as if she didn’t expect me to remember, which is . . . ridiculous. This is more than her birthday. It’s our day. It’s the day everything began for us. Savvy surprised me with a trip to Vegas. We’re only here for the weekend, but it’s more than I’ve done in forever. She says I work too much, which is really code for me being boring, and she insisted . . . She picks up her drink and takes a generous sip. I’m rambling.

I don’t mind. The words come out rough and reveal too much. Like how glad I am to see her. Like how much I’ve missed her.

She looks around. I’d invite you to have a seat, but this place is packed.

"You can come to my table. We reserved

Reviews for Every Little Promise

[Sinazo Msuthu Mamjoli · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Great story but i dont like the way its written we are in the present next thing were in the past then present its confusing