Page 16 of Forking the Billionaire

SIX

JASPER

A towering statue stood beside Rum Bum Tiki Tavern’s front door. The massive tiki man appeared to be carved from a single piece of dark wood, with colorful details painted on his exaggerated face. His lips were so blue, it looked like he’d been kissing a smurf. In one arm, he held a wooden surfboard with the word “welcome” stretched from the board’s nose to tail. In the other arm, he appeared to be choking a wooden flamingo. Why?

Jules pulled open the door and headed in. Her voice carried after her. “Ooh, koi.”

With the door lingering open, rainforest-esque sounds and tinkling percussion danced through the air. The jovial voices of the bar’s patrons rode the waves, so congruent they felt almost a part of the music.

It was my turn to go inside. Instead, my feet remained planted in place. The only solitude I was likely to get during this trip was right here, right now, lingering on the porch.

When I’d agreed to bring Jules along for this trip, I hadn’t expected that meant I’d spendevery single momentwith her. Before we’d jetted off to Calypso Caribella, we’d said only a handful of sentences to each other. Most of them had beenyes,just like thatorharder, faster.Every interaction had been short, direct, and either professional or sexual. Nothing more.

As soon as we stepped onto the plane, everything changed. She kept talking to me, giving her opinions on everything from the temperature in the cabin to the pretzels the flight attendant offered. It was exhausting.

After the plane landed and we’d settled into our room, she’d tried to talk to me through the bathroom door. All I’d wanted was two minutes to empty my bladder in peace. I couldn’t do it, not while she was blabbering on about linens or whatever the fuck. I had to leave our room and slip downstairs to the restroom off the lobby.

We hadn’t even been here a full day yet, and I was certain I’d made a disastrous mistake by letting her come. It was too late now.

It wasn’t like I needed the reminder, but here it was anyway—I was better off alone and free.

Hearty laughter ripped me right out of my thoughts as I finally stepped through the door. Bright colors, bamboo, and thatch decorated the large room beyond the entry. The space was airy and inviting.

My gaze snapped to the source of the laughter, to a vibrant woman glowing with pure joy. She tossed her marigold hair back from her shoulders, and I caught a glimpse of her familiar smile. Esme.

The man seated on the stool across from her seemed to be the source of her glee. From his back, I could only make out his broad shoulders and black dreadlocks, but he most definitely could have been the man who’d grabbed her and pulled her onstage this morning.

She certainly didn’t seem to be bothered by him. In fact, they seemed to be doing something together on the bar with a lemon, a rubber band, and some flatware. Were the two of theminvolved? If this guy was the musician, he was too old for her. He had to be at least my age, likely a few years older given how deep the smile lines around his eyes had been. Esme was only twenty.

A tightness formed in my shoulders. I rolled them back, then headed in Esme’s direction without a good reason why, given I was here for dinner with the wedding party. I should have been looking for Gabriel.

I’d do that. But first, it was only polite to ask Esme if she was feeling better. I should ask about her doctor’s visit. I should ask how old that guy was and how exactly they knew each other.

Esme bolted upright. The man with her twisted in his seat.

“Look out!” Esme’s expression transformed from delight to horror.

I blinked, uncertain as to what was happening.

A gleam of light flickered off a silver object. I saw it only half a second before the object pinged me in the forehead with a sharp jolt.

I stopped walking, stunned, reached out reflexively, and caught the object as it dropped. It was a metal fork.

Esme hurried around the bar, her brow creased. The man stepped in front of her. He reached me first.

“We’re so sorry,” he said, a look of both mortification and subdued amusement on his face.

He was definitely the musician.

I looked past him to Esme. “Did you just throw a fork at me, Bramble?”

The nickname slipped from my lips.

My tone was light, not accusatory even if her actions deserved my anger. Still, any hint of concern in her expression disappeared. Defiance took its place.

She snorted. “No.”

“Sir, we didn’t know you were there. This is a misunderstanding,” the musician said.

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