Page 49 of Promise Not To Fall

2 parts Flor de Caña® 4 Year Rum

1 ½ parts The Perfect Purée® Passion Fruit Purée (diluted 1:1 with water)

1 ½ parts scratch sour mix

¾ part orgeat syrup (preferably Trader Vic’s®

2 dashes of cherry bitters

Build in a shaker

Add ice

Shake well until chilled

Strain over fresh ice.

Jake, and his black eye, take me through the straw market after that. He still likes me, despite his battle wound.

“Lady… pretty lady….” People shout, attempting to draw me toward them. They use the word “lady” a lot.

Everywhere I look, they’re calling out lady to get me to buy something else. “See something you like? Everything is on sale, man. Braid your hair for a dollar, pretty lady?” And then to my right, “C’mere, sweetie, let me sell you a baseball cap that says ‘the Bahamas.’”

Some of it’s actually stuff I would have bought, had they not been hounding me. I do find a dress I like in a soft cotton material, similar to the one I wore the night I met Jake. You know, the one he ripped off me.

“You should buy this for me, since you destroyed my other dress,” I tease, wrapping my arm in Jake’s firm hold. I love the way my arm feels gliding against his soft skin, sprinkled with the light dusting of hair.

Jake smiles, admiring the dress and then me. “It’s nice.”

“How much?” I ask, opening my purse. I’m only kidding about him paying for it. I would haveneverallowed it.

“Fifty,” the woman in her too-tight black tank top says, watching Jake. I think she knows he’s from around here, and her only chance at getting me to actually pay fifty for the dress would be to convince him.

Keeping his eyes on the woman, Jake whispers in my ear, “Work ’em. They’re workin’ you.”

I never thought of it that way. He’s right and we, as in Jake and I, work them down to thirty for the dress, which Jake buys for me despite me adamantly telling him not to. Turns out, my opinion doesn’t matter when it comes to letting a guy buy me something. His words, not mine.

“Thanks for that,” I tell him as we walk around with my new dress, taking in the rest of the straw market. “I’m always so cynical.”

“I don’t think you’re cynical at all. I think you’re controlling, yes, but cynical….” Jake shakes his head, adjusting his baseball hat. “No. Sexy? Yes.”

“Whoa. Hold up.” Stopping in front of him, I place my hands on his chest. “Say that last one again.”

“Sexy?” His eyebrows lift.

I grin, nodding. “Yes, that one.”

“Of coursethat’sthe one you heard.”

“Well, naturally, who wouldn’t want to be told they’re sexy?” I turn back around and begin walking ahead of him.

“Hmm….” Jake considers my words for a moment and then places his heavy arm over my bare shoulders. “I like a girl who can take adoration in an unpretentious way.”

I laugh. “Are you saying I’m conceited?”

“No. I’m saying you’re confident. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?”

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