Page 18 of Promise Not To Fall

1 part Tommy Bahama White Sand rum®

1 ½ parts vanilla vodka

1 ½ parts coconut rum

½ part Coco Lopez®

Shake twenty times in a cocktail shaker and strain. Garnish with toasted coconut.

My body is wound up. It’s as if I’m on fire—more than likely from the alcohol—but also this bartender who knows his goddamn way around a drink, and hopefully pussy. Sorry, I know, so crass. I’m pretty sure Jake went to school to be this good at sweet talking and drink making.

I watch carefully as he pours about four different liquors in a shaker and then begins shaking it. The way he keeps his eyes on me as he shakes that cup has me looking south and then keeping my eyes there. I’m not sure if he does it on purpose, but he has his hand about level with his waist and positioned slightly in front of him.

Oh, yeah, he does that shit on purpose.

He winks, and we find ourselves once again smiling at each other.

Jake shakes his head, as if he can’t not react. That’s when I notice he isn’t looking at me, he’s looking at my tits again.

I sigh. Actually sigh, and give him flirty eyes. Yep, flirty eyes are totally a thing. Noticing him checking me out makes me want to pull down my dress a little and give him something more to look at. Hell, at this point, with how hot I am, I wouldn’t mind taking it off. I feel like I’m burning up.

It’s worth mentioning here, I’m drunk. I’m sure you already knew that. Having said that, I want to be clear, I’m not throwing myself at this guy. I’m launching myself. Like street-style cat fighting. That kind of launching.

Sipping my drink a little more slowly, I keep having to wipe the condensation from the glass. It drives me mad seeing it pool around the glass. I also hate the drips when I take a drink and the water spills right down my cleavage. Actually, I don’t mind that part that much. It’s the water on the glass that’s bothering me.

Jake’s amused by my OCD behavior and even takes my napkins away to see what I will do if the water pools and I have nothing to wipe it up with.

It annoys me. “Do you get a lot of interesting people who come in here?” I ask to keep from punching him.

“Sometimes. A lot of crazy ones too.” Maybe he’s referring to me. Maybe not. He probably is. It was only an hour ago he had to convince me I still had my lips. Jake shifts his weight and leans against the counter behind the bar. “This one chick came in here last week and did a tequila shot off a dude’s dick.” He pauses, then winks with a cocky nod. “We’re always up for a good time here.”

I give him a look, you know, one that screams,seriously, dude?“Is that so?”

“What about you,” he asks, still grinning. “Are you a good time?”

Stepping forward, he towers over me, giving me a full view of his face. He’s so beautiful. And up close, his eyes are brighter, hair darker, skin so pretty, and I’m weak and helpless.

Take me. Take me now.

“I’malwaysa good time.” He quirks an eyebrow at me, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Can you say the same?”

He has me pegged. A little.

I’m also sick of being this way. I wanna have fun. I do. I wanna be as carefree as Island Boy. I don’t always want to be the girl who’s playing it safe because she doesn’t want to see what happened to her mom, happen to her. I also don’t want to be that girl who has a career and nothing else. There’s no fun in that, and I’m slowly realizing how true that is.

“Dude, I’m not even joking when I say I wrote the book on ‘controlling.’ If you’ve never read it, it’s in the section titled ‘Bitch-Lit.’ It’s right next to ‘passive-aggressive.’”

“Oh, right.” He laughs, nodding. “I know that section.”

I don’t know if it’s him or his drinks, but the way he laughs, the way he smiles, it gets me every time.

Jake leaves to help some others, waiting on girls who are all lingering so they can flirt with him, just as I’m doing. To my surprise, he doesn’t engage, and always comes back to stand in front of me, sparking up another conversation.

“What do you do for fun here?”

“Snorkeling, surfing, you know.” He brings his eyes back to mine. “Just laid-back shit, ya know?”

“Ugh,” I groan, throwing my head forward. “Screw you and your perfect island life.”

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