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Chapter One

Marston

It’s been more than ten years since Brinley Knox ripped out e 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 ata little black dress and sipping a martini

“Inco into my side “Damn, she’s fine”

I struggle to pull er of aze There’s a blonde sauntering toward lass 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 sendwild

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 h 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 toldbourbon,” the blonde says when she reaches our table She offers me the tumbler

Froives rin says it all He thinks he did hts 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 et a taste of how they make it where I come from”

That gets aze back to her “What?”

“Knox bourbon,” she says, her tongue dancing along the rilass “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 eventhe bourbon under my nose