Every Sweet Regret (Orchid Valley Book 2)

by Lexi Ryan

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Other Books by Lexi Ryan

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Every Sweet Regret © 2020 by Lexi Ryan

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this book. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author except by reviewers, who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to institutions or persons, living or dead, is used fictitiously or purely coincidental.

  Cover design © 2020 by Hang Le

  Cover photo © 2020 by Sara Eirew

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-940832-17-3

  Print ISBN: 978-1-940832-18-0

  Created with Vellum

  For Tina,

  who’s read them all and cheered me

  on every step of the way

  About Every Sweet Regret

  New York Times bestselling author Lexi Ryan brings you Every Sweet Regret, a sexy standalone romance about a single dad and the reformed party girl who's loved him all her life.

  Her brother's best friend. Her lifelong crush. Her sweetest regret.

  For as long as I can remember, Kace Matthews has been my brother's best friend and my not-so-secret crush. But I knew nothing would ever happen between us. The successful single dad doesn't fall for the hot mess party girl. Kace + Stella exists in the doodles in my high school notebooks and in my dreams. Never in real life.

  Until he finds me on a hookup app and starts flirting shamelessly.

  It turns out high school Stella was not prepared for Kace Matthews. Adult Stella isn't much better, but I manage to break down the walls to show Kace the real me--not just the life-of-the-party exterior, but the vulnerable pieces I hide from the world. Combine that with the combustible chemistry we have in real life, and I'm a goner.

  Too bad it takes me so long to realize Kace doesn't know I'm the girl he's been falling for online. Telling him the truth now that he knows my secrets could mean losing everything, and that's one regret that could break me.

  Chapter One

  Stella

  The woman seated at the bar next to Kace Matthews has been flirting with him for thirty minutes straight. Not that I’m surprised. Kace’s rough exterior, matched with his gooey insides, make him a bit of a unicorn. I’ve known single women who’ve scoured the dating desert for years searching for a guy like him. With jaw-length brown hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and those piercing whiskey eyes, he looks like he belongs on an episode of Sons of Anarchy. But see his dimples appear when he talks about his four-year-old daughter, and . . . ovary explosion.

  The woman tilts forward. Now, if Kace just happens to glance down, he’ll get an eyeful of her cleavage. But the man’s absolutely clueless, bless his sexy li’l heart.

  The woman’s pretty—if you’re into that skinny, blond, flawless-beauty kind of look, and, well, Kace is. But only if his ex-wife is the flawless beauty in question. The man has eyes for no one else. If I know Kace—and after years as his best friend’s little sister, I do—this chick will be going home alone.

  “This place is kind of lame, babe. Let’s bounce.”

  I jerk my attention back to the guy sitting across from me—Jared, who arrived fifteen minutes late and has been trying to fast-forward to the sexy-times part of the evening since he sat down. Not that I should be shocked. I met the guy on Random, and that’s kind of the point of the app. Not small talk. Not sharing drinks at my favorite bar. Not love matches. Hookups.

  Unfortunately, any chemistry I felt with Jared during our brief exchanges on the app fizzled out the second he turned his nose up at my favorite watering hole. He sneered when he walked in the door. Then again, maybe Jared’s snobbery isn’t the real culprit here. Maybe my sudden lack of enthusiasm for ending this dry spell has everything to do with Mr. Unattainable at the bar.

  Jared grins and licks his lips. “So . . . yeah?”

  “How old are you?” His profile said twenty-six, but he’s got such a frat-boy vibe (emphasis on boy) that I’m suddenly not so sure.

  “Why?” Leaning across the table, he snatches my martini from in front of me and takes a big drink. He could be drinking his own shit if he’d bothered to order anything, but no. When I suggested he get a drink, he laughed, as if it was ridiculous to get too comfortable when he was only here to get off. Now, he’s slurping up my expensive vodka like a cow at the trough. “Age is a state of mind.”

  I won’t roll my eyes. I won’t. But I do turn away to hide my annoyance—which means I put Kace in my line of vision just in time to see him make a beeline to the entrance, where his ex-wife now stands.

  Amy’s too busy messing with her phone to notice him. Then she’s too busy noticing the athletic stranger who’s pulling her into his arms. Kace stops dead in his tracks.

  “Who are you staring at?” Jared asks, glancing over his shoulder toward the depressing tableau at the door.

  Sighing, I nod to Kace. “That’s a friend of mine.”

  “That lumberjack-looking guy?” Jared spreads his legs and glares. “You know him?”

  I won’t roll my eyes. “Easier to be friends that way, yeah.”

  “You fucking him?” His gaze whips back to me. “Is that why you’re suddenly acting like such a frigid bitch?”

  Once again, this less-than man manages to drag my attention away from the best guy in the room. “Excuse me?”

  “Come on, you were ready to ride my dick when we made these plans. Something’s changed.” He lowers his voice and leans closer. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I know Reggie’s brother, and so I know you.”

  What. The. Actual. Fuck? There’s nothing that makes me go cold faster than the name of my asshole college boyfriend. I lean back in my chair and shake my head. “Yeah, it’s time to go.”

  He exhales, and his shoulders sag. “Thank Christ. Let’s get out of here.”

  “You go. Alone. Without me.”

  He throws up his hands. “Why? What did I say? You can’t deny we had plans when we decided to meet here. But I’m onto girls like you—throwing out suggestive messages to get guys to buy you a few drinks and then never following through with what was promised. But joke’s on you.” He wags a finger at me. “That’s why I never order anything.”

  Is this guy for real? “Hey, sweetie.” I paste on my most saccharine smile then scoot my chair around the table so I’m next to him. The sneer falls off his face. “Can I tell you a secret?”

  He swallows, his gaze dipping to my cleavage. I wore my hottest red dress for him, and the reminder just pisses me off more. My breasts look fucking fantastic, and he does not deserve their company. “Sure.” He doesn’t bother to lift his
gaze.

  “Those girls like me? You’re right to believe they aren’t being honest with you, but you’re wrong about them wanting free drinks. You see, they’re trying to figure out if their date is a potential creeper before they go home with him, and since you can’t hide that shit in person, I bet you have a lot of experience with women backing out once they meet you face to face.”

  He pulls back. “What the fuck do you know, cheap porno bitch?”

  “I know they call girls like me bitches when we decide guys like you aren’t entitled to our bodies. The only difference between them and me is that I don’t care if you call me a bitch, and I wouldn’t let you buy me a drink even if being roofied sounded like a good time. You give all the bad vibes, Jared—starting with lying about your age. Do yourself a favor before you use any hookup or dating app again: learn how to treat a woman. Until then, leave.”

  His chair screeches as he pushes it away from the table and jumps out of it. “I wouldn’t stick my dick in your diseased cunt if you paid me.”

  “What’d you say to her?”

  Jared spins around and finds his face inches from Kace Matthews’ broad chest.

  I shrink into my chair and scan the room for a rock to crawl under. I didn’t mean for Kace to run over here and play hero. For once, I wish he were still focused on his undeserving ex just so that judgmental gaze wasn’t cast in my direction.

  Hello there, disapproving Adonis. Yes, I’m still the hot-mess Stella you know and love, and here’s the proof, since you think you need to rescue me from this hellish non-date.

  Jared stumbles back a step, and Kace moves closer.

  “If I ever hear you talk to Stella or any woman like that ever again—”

  “Whatever, man. I’m outta here.” Jared scrambles away and out the door, and I’m sure he can feel the burn of Kace’s angry gaze with every step.

  Only when Jared disappears from view does Kace turn back to me, eyes worried and jaw tense beneath his beard. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I’m not fine. I’m exhausted. I’m sick of attracting all the creeps and falling for all the assholes. Because I do. Every time, with the lone exception of Kace, who I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember and who’s never been even the slightest bit interested in me in return. I’m lonely, and I miss sex.

  “Where do you find these assholes?”

  “There’s a secret catalogue,” I say, flipping my hair over one shoulder. “I usually pick the ones with the biggest muscles and hope they won’t ruin my fun by talking.”

  Kace ignores my sass and glares at the window, as if daring Jared to reappear. “It’s like you want to be treated badly or something.”

  “Whoa. Way to victim-blame, Kace.”

  His gaze snaps back to mine. “I’m not blaming you. I’m pointing out a pattern of behavior.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were my therapist. Sit down so I can tell you all about my sex addiction and the trouble it gets me into.”

  His jaw unhinges, and he draws in a sharp breath before snapping it shut again. “I . . . Shit, I didn’t realize you had a . . .” He clears his throat.

  “It was a joke.” But a badly chosen one, because “sex addict” probably fits right into the little box Kace has me in. I’m pretty sure said box is labeled Irresponsible Party Girl. That’s me.

  He draws his mouth into a thin line of disapproval. “Well, I wasn’t joking about your patterns.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “What would’ve happened if he’d taken you home?”

  As if. I might date jerks, but Jared never stood a chance. My pattern shows I prefer the guys who reel you in and get you attached before they let their jerk flag fly. Jared never stood a chance. I sigh. “I had it under control.”

  I think he’s about to give me a lecture, so I’m relieved when my friend Abbi appears at my table and waves at her brother. “Hey, Kace.”

  “Hey, Abs.” He returns her smile, but it’s tight, and when his gaze drifts back to me, disapproval is written all over his face. He shakes his head, already retreating. “Just . . . be careful. Okay?”

  I want to reach for him. Don’t go. Stay. Sit down and remind me there are good guys in this world.

  But I don’t say a word. I sink back in my chair and let him walk back to the bar. For a beat, I let myself imagine what it’d be like to be the recipient of one of his broad grins. What would it be like to be the object of Kace Matthews’ affection? What would it be like to have him flirt with me? There’s a very small club of women who’ve experienced those things, and I’ll never be part of it. I’ve made my peace with that. Mostly.

  I reach for my drink, then remember Jared the Asshole put his mouth on my glass, and I yank my hand away like I just touched a hot stove. I shift my attention to Abbi. “How are you, pretty?”

  She pulls out the chair opposite me and lowers herself into it. “I’m . . . meh. Just had the longest day ever and decided to treat myself.” She takes the small menu out from under the napkin holder and studies it. “Have you eaten yet?”

  My stomach growls. “No, but I want something salty and greasy.”

  She narrows her eyes, studying me over the top of the laminated menu. “Is this that thing where you talk about the junk food so much you give me a craving, and then you decide to get a grilled chicken salad while I cave and get the nacho-cheese-smothered tater tots?”

  “That!” I grin and point at her. “That’s what I want.”

  “Wait—seriously? I thought you and Savvy were doing that cleanse shit. Your body’s a temple, and no grease allowed past those lips, et cetera, et cetera?”

  I narrow my eyes. “Shut up. I’m PMSing.” I wave at Smithy, the bar’s owner. I could wait for my waitress, but Smithy will treat me if I ask nicely.

  His eyes light up when he spots me, and he rushes over. “Stella, Abbi, what can I do for you two beautiful women tonight?”

  “Nacho tots,” Abbi says.

  “The big one,” I add. “I’m bitchy and bloated, and I want to eat my feelings.”

  “Hormonal cravings.” Smithy bobs his head as if he too is afflicted by a monthly cycle. “Maybe some fried pickles too, then?”

  I moan. “God, yes.”

  Abbi grins in triumph. “I like you tonight.”

  “And booze.” I point to my glass. “The dickwad who just left soiled mine by putting his nasty-ass mouth on it.”

  “Whatcha drinking?” Smithy asks.

  I should choose something with fewer calories to balance out the junk food, but . . . “Another lemon drop martini?” There’s nothing like a fancy drink with greasy bar food, and Smithy makes the best lemon drops.

  Abbi bounces in her seat. “Oh! Me too!”

  “As you wish.” He sweeps the glass off the table. “And Stella, I happen to know a guy who’d treat you right if you’re ever interested.” He winks then walks away.

  “Think he meant himself?” Abbi asks.

  “Or the monk he roomed with that time in Rome.” I shrug. “You never know with Smithy.”

  Abbi laughs. “So tell me how you ended up in that dress while PMSing. Because when I’m bloated, I want PJs and oversized hoodies.”

  I arch a brow. “Hoodies in June?”

  She shrugs. “That’s what AC is for. Stop avoiding the question.”

  “I had a date. Well, sort of.” I yank at the neckline of my dress ineffectually, wishing it covered a smidge more skin. I felt sexy when I left home, but sitting across from Abbi in her jeans and T-shirt has me feeling ridiculous in my “look at me” red dress. “It wasn’t a date exactly.” When she raises a brow in question, I add, “Random.”

  Abbi snorts. “You’re still using that app? I swear it’s the same ten guys, and they’re all . . . Well, my standards might not be the highest, but they’re higher than that.”

  I shrug, understanding what she means. Orchid Valley isn’t quite big enough for an app like Random. Unless you’re cool with hooking up with your high schoo
l geometry teacher—and let me tell you from experience, that’s a bad idea. “I usually choose the bigger radius to grab some of the north Atlanta suburbs guys.”

  “Ooh.” She folds her arms on the table and leans forward. “Teach me your ways, wise one.”

  I don’t know if she’s serious or mocking me, so I just shake my head. “Seriously, don’t get advice from me. No one’s caught my interest for weeks, then I finally agree to meet this guy and . . .” I give an exaggerated shudder. “I should’ve run the moment he walked in the door. Creeper city.”

  “Really?”

  “It was a vibe, know what I mean? Anyway, he left—but not before your brother threatened to beat the shit out of him.”

  “Is that why Kace was looking at you like he just bailed you out of jail?” Abbi frowns as her gaze tracks across the bar to find her brother sitting on a stool, nursing his beer and surreptitiously keeping an eye on his ex-wife. “How’d he even know the guy was a creep?”

  “My guess? Kace decided to intervene when he heard Jared use the words diseased cunt.”

  Abbi flinches. “Yikes. I’m surprised Kace didn’t make good on his threat.”

  “Nah, Jared scampered off pretty quick after that.” I shrug. “Anyway, my dry spell continues.”

  “You were in Jamaica with your ex two months ago. That’s hardly a dry spell.”

  “Well, we’re not talking about Bobby.”

  “Hmm. I think you should, though.”

  I don’t get embarrassed easily, so I’m not sure what my issue is with telling my friends about what happened in Jamaica. I just don’t want to admit that I fell for the wrong guy. Again. “You know how when you go online shopping, you can filter out certain brands or items above a certain price? I wish I could do that with dating—or, hell, even with hookups. No more assholes. No more users. No more cheaters.”