Page 23 of Promise Not To Fall

“Only one right now, but he has three other assistants too. So in a way, I’m jobless at the moment.” I pause and take a small drink of my horrible whiskey and 7-up. “Most of the time I just have one, but once I had three at the same time for a while.”

“Doesn’t that get confusing?”

“I’m good at what I do.” My eyes find his. “Do you get confused when the bar’s full?”

“No.”

“Well, there you go. Besides”—I wave my hand around—“I’m organized and know my limits.”

Jake snorts, like he’s thinking of something dirty.

“I hate this one client,” I groan, going into the aspects of my job I hate so I can avoid the lure his voice is having on me. Even though I know where this is going, the thought frightens me a little. So I keep talking. “He’s so demanding and expects me to just cater to everything he needs.” I let my voice soften to a whisper, then give him a blank stare. “I think he thinks I’m his bitch.”

Jake laughs and leans toward me. “If you don’t like someone, it’s because subconsciously they remind you of something you don’t like about yourself.”

I roll my eyes. “Poetic, Island Boy.”

He reaches around the bar, shuffling bottles away and bringing others forward. Maybe this is his nightly routine. I’m not sure, or he’s nervous? Nah, I doubt he’s ever nervous. “So, if you’re so good at your job, why can’t you make a relationship work?”

My answer is cold and sarcastic. “Hell if I know.”

His eyes slowly drink me in, drifting over my face and lingering on my chest. “You seem cool.”

“Well, thanks. But I’m also on vacation and drinking.” I raise my glass. “You don’t want to know the real stressed-out me.”

“Actually,” his voice is calm and relaxing, everything this bar is, “my dad always says you can tell a person’s true personality when they’re drinking.”

“I think I like your dad.”

I watch Jake make another drink for a couple at a table near the door. I find myself staring at his hands. They’re so strong and nice, and I really want them wrapped in my hair. He looks like he might be good at pulling hair or, even better, biting. I love it when a man isn’t afraid to sink his teeth in. Not too much. I’m not trying to re-enact some kind of vampire fantasy, but a little pain with the pleasure is always welcome.

“Have you ever bit a woman? Like for pleasure reasons?” I ask with my straw in my mouth. He should really cut me off by this point. I’m totally tossed. He knows it. Look at the grin. He fucking knows. “I once fucked this guy who bit my collarbone so hard it looked like a shark attack.” Waving my hands around, I nearly knock my drink over.

Jake catches the glass before it falls, his eyes shining with amusement. “Easy there, City Girl.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible.”

His face breaks into that beautiful smile again. “What?”

“Shark bite. Like, what was he doing? It looked awful the next day.”

Jake smiles ruefully, a contemplative expression on his face as he runs his hand down his jaw. He glances at my chest again and then back at my eyes. “Ah, well”—he winks—“that’s easy to do when you’re caught up in the moment I suppose.”

I think, and I can’t be sure given the lack of sobriety, I’m detecting more attraction from him than he’s letting on.

Oh, me like him. Me likey him a lot.

But I also feel like if I could read Jake’s mind right now, it would say something similar to:This chick is out of her fucking mind. Batshit. Morbid. Controlling. Crazy.

Or maybe he isn’t thinking any of that.

We get to talking about family. I tell him I’m an only child, and he says that makes a lot of sense. He thinks I would have killed a sibling in their sleep. I flip him off.

A legitimate smile curves his lips again. He tucks his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts and leans into the counter, his eyes studying mine. “What about your parents? They around? Dad?”

I fight off a growl that wants to emit from deep within a part of me that holds grudges. “Had one at one time. Haven’t seen him since I was ten.”

“Shitty. His loss.” He seems sincere. “Mom?”

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