Page 15 of Promise Not To Fall

“Sorry.”

“No worries.” He shrugs one shoulder again, reaching for a white rag on the bar. “I just don’t like my name shortened.”

“Noted. Can I ask why?” I blame my forwardness on his drinks. But then again, I’m always like this. I like to know things. Everything. Knowledge intrigues me. I can read the ingredients to cereal and feel at ease.

He blinks as he takes in my face, raking his hand through that gorgeous hair. “You could… but I wouldn’t tell you, so you’d be wastin’ your time.” He pauses and slides his tongue across his bottom lip. His eyes take in my face, slowly, lingering on my lips. “You don’t seem like a girl who likes to waste time, though.”

He’s perfection. “No, I’m not.” I like Jake already. He’s perfect one-night-stand material.

I’m not against taking Jake back to my room, as I said to him, andheignored. To be honest, I’m nowhere near relationship-ready for anyone after Justin. And it’s discouraging to realize the truth in that statement. Like it or not, Justin took a piece of my heart with him when he broke it on V-day. We might not have been meant for each other, but I had spent the last two years of my life in a committed relationship with him. Part of me knew my “committed” and his “committed” were vastly different, but still, I guess in some ways, I’m damaged goods now.

When life sucks, I have an answer for that. Drinking. It’s why alcohol and drugs were invented. I guarantee it.

Despite wanting to get drunk—I’m already there—what’s on my mind tonight is Island Boy. I don’t think it’s just my mind playing tricks on me either. This guy is borderline amazing. And so pretty. I mean, look at him. Beautiful and exotic, despite his average name.

Island Boy’s dad comes out again from the kitchen and says something to Jake, then goes back.

“How did your dad come about owning a bar in the Bahamas?”

“My parents came here on their honeymoon and never wanted to leave. They came back every year, but when a hurricane came through the Bahamas and destroyed their favorite bar, they made the decision to rebuild it and ended up staying for good.”

“Wow.” That’s kind of sweet and makes me smile that there’s someone out there who still has some romance. My parents split up when I was ten. I didn’t exactly have a relationship with my dad from what I remember. I do remember that he worked a lot and was rarely home. It wasn’t a surprise when he left, just that he no longer provided money for us. I didn’t know what a fairy-tale marriage even was.

“Cool story, huh?” Jake asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah.” I shake my head at my thoughts. “It’s a fairy tale.”

Jake laughs and leans into the bar, locking our stares together. “Yeah… it’s not true. All bullshit I just fed you.”

“What? Why would you do that?”

“I’m just playin’.” He grins, barely able to control his amusement. “It’s true.”

“See, now you’re just pissing me off.” I slap my hand down on the bar. “I don’t like to be lied to.”

“I’m just messing around with you.” He motions around the bar as he mixes another drink, holding a bottle in his hand. “They certainly didn’t move here for money, but this place is their dream.”

“How did they afford to do that?” It may have been bold to ask, but I know enough about this place to know they could have done better having a bar located elsewhere.

Jake shrugs. “My dad’s parents were loaded. He had some kind of trust fund, and when they died he inherited their shit. So then my parents sold everything they owned and moved to paradise.” He pushes another drink my way. I’ve lost count as to which number I’m on.

“What’s this one?”

“Raspberries and rye.”

I give a nod, drawing the drink toward me. “What’s your favorite drink?”

“Whiskey sour.” The way the words roll off his tongue whenever he talks makes me smile. And sends images and sound bites to my naughty brain as I think about him moaning my name.

I take one drink and spit it back in the glass. I don’t like raspberries. Not even a little bit. I probably should have warned him about that. I once had a raspberry smoothie and threw up for three days straight, which I always find unsettling because who gets sick off a smoothie? Did they contaminate the berries? I stay clear of raspberries. It’s a rule of mine that if I throw up because of eating or drinking something, it must be poison, therefore never to be ingested again.

“Oh, God,” I pause and down a big gulp of water. “That’s awful.” It’s easily the worst drink I’ve ever had. Hands down.

“Hey, be nice.” Jake looks down, his lashes so thick, so pretty. “You’ll hurt my ego.”

I draw in an uneven breath but keep up my attitude when I see his eyes moving over my face, watching me. “Doubt that. Do you actually serve that shit to people?”

He beckons me forward with two fingers. Naturally I go, hoping maybe he might kiss me. One could be so hopeful, right? “When a girl wants to try everything on the menu,” his voice goes seductively lower as he whispers, “I give hereverythingon the menu.”

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