Page 37 of Promise Not To Fall

Shit. I might still be drunk.

To my surprise, Jake laughs.

Clearing my throat, I straighten my posture. “I’ve come to settle my bar tab. You only charged me for two drinks. I had, like, twenty.”

“Honey, I assure you, you didn’t have twenty drinks.” Licking his lips, he beckons me forward again. Willingly, I go. I can’t help myself. “And I think you more than made up for the difference, don’t you?”

Is he implying I had sex with him to avoid paying for my drinks? Appalled he went there, I draw back and cross my arms over my chest. “What the fuck does that mean?” I level him a very serious look. Shit, it’s practically grave.

To my surprise, he laughs and winks, because why wouldn’t he? He’s Island Boy. Nothing rattles him. I find myself watching his lips when he speaks, remembering the way they ghosted across my lips last night. “Easy there, tiger. I was joking.”

“I’m not some kind of prostitute who works off their debt.” I can feel the anger creeping into my face at his implications.

So can Jake, apparently, but it only provokes him. He laughs, all breathy and dreamy.Shit, pull yourself together, girl.“I’ve known a couple of prostitutes,” he tells me, reaching for a bottle of rum and a glass when his dad hands him a piece of paper. “And I would say you’re nothing like them. They also aren’t working off debt. They’re making a living.”

I blow out a breath I hadn’t been aware of holding in. “Not an honest one.”

“Maybe not toyou.” There’s a spark of emotion in Jake’s eyes most would miss. Not me though. I can’t tell you what it is, but there’s something he’s hiding behind those gorgeous blues. Should have known. All the pretty guys are secret keepers. “But to them, it’s all that’s available. It’s not like they just decide one day, shit, sucking dick is so much easier than a real job.”

I’ll be completely honest. He’s kind of starting to piss me off in his defense to justify prostitution. And that only means one thing. He’s either one himself, or he’s been with one. Or maybe—and this might be completely farfetched—he’s the baby daddy of a girl named Candy and he’s secretly raising their daughter Chocolate Truffle.

“How so? They could go get an honest paying job.”

Jake shakes his head, like he’s annoyed he’s explaining this to me. “Now, how is it not honest, City Girl? They’re providing a service. They should be paid.”

“Having sex shouldn’t be a service,” I point out. I don’t understand how he can’t see my side of this.

He winks again, I think to piss me off. “Depends on how you look at it.”

I want to punch him. Kiss him first, then punch him, and then maybe kiss him again so I can lick his wounds. Fuck, I’d lick him good.

Stop it. You’re mad. Act like it.

I toss some traveler’s checks on the bar. “Regardless, I want to pay for my drinks.”

He leans back against the counter behind him, his arms crossing over his chest, refusing to take the money. “Come on, you know you want another drink.”

He’s so fucking frustrating. I’m the type of girl who gets mad and stays mad. Sometimes it takes me weeks to get over an argument, or months. Hell, my neighbor stole my bike once when I was seven, and after getting my bike back, I didn’t talk to that little bike stealer for three whole years.

But that was the old Kendall. What would the new Kendall do?

His words come back to me. What is it going to be?

Him. It’s going to be him. It’s going to be Island Boy and his delicious drinks and talented tongue.

I wave my hand around and knock over a napkin dispenser in the process. “Ignore me. I’m being weird.”

After finishing the drink he’s making, Jake reaches over to right the napkin dispenser. “No, you’re not weird. I would say you’re just nervous, yes?” His brow arches, and I nod.

Scary how he knows me pretty well, even after one night.

And then I start laughing. No, seriously. I start laughing. As if it’s completely appropriate. Shaking my head, I smile and try to rein it in. “I just came to settle my tab,” I tell him, trying to take even breaths. The bar is noisy, and he clearly doesn’t have time to be flirting with me. A woman rushes by, stopping at the bar to grab the drink Jake just made, and then tells him, “Mac n jack at table four.”

He nods, his eyes on the restaurant behind me. “Yeah, got it,” he barks out, seeming annoyed.

Shit. I should leave. Standing, I straighten out my tank top. “I’m going to grab some dinner now, so thanks for the drinks last night. I never got a chance to thank you.”

Smirking, he pulls up his shirt slightly, revealing his chest—in front of the entire bar, with absolutely no shame. “I think you thanked me pretty well,” he teases, gesturing toward the scratch marks from my nails on his chest. Crap. I don’t remember doing that to him. My mouth gapes open as I stare at him. He gives me another one of those head nods he’s so damn good at. “You coming back later?”

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