Page 43 of Promise Not To Fall

He stares at me, raising his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Bartender, ladies’ man—naturally, you have a street bike.”

Jake considers my words for a moment, watching me look over his bike. It really is a pretty bike, all shiny and sparkling in the sun. “You have a serious misconception about who I am.”

Tucking a wild strand of hair behind my ear, I shrug. “Fair enough. Prove me wrong, then.”

Smirking, he pats the space behind him. “Get on the bike and I will.”

Here’s another fun fact about me. Ialwaystake a challenge. You probably already knew that given the alcohol poisoning story.

As the sweet sun kisses my skin and the wind moves through my hair, I risk a little and hold on to Jake’s stomach. I can feel him breathing, slow and steady, in control, taking me anywhere I want to go. The short drive is beautiful, with remarkable architecture, palm trees, and sea grapes bordering the beaches. Everything is so scenic and tropical. It’s fucking breathtaking.

Given my fear of falling off the bike, I keep a firm grip on Jake. I nearly do fall off when he takes off from a stop sign and does a wheelie. I yelp, his laughter shaking me.

We end up going back over to Nassau. He parks on the side of the street and then swings his leg over to get off the bike. I do the same and stand on the side of the street, trying to straighten out my dress and hair from the ride over. My hair didn’t exert its unruliness until we were on the bridge. Now I bet it’s strangely similar to a rat’s nest.

Jake holds out his hand, his eyes on my hair, biting back laughter.

I attempt to fix my hair before taking his hand. “I bet it looks amazing, huh?”

A grin slides onto his face. “Looks like I showed you a good time.” Wrapping his arm around me, he squeezes my shoulder tight. “Where to first, City Girl?”

“Food,” I tell him, the smells of the city so inviting. “I’m starving.”

Dropping his arm, he grabs my hand and leads me up the street. “That I can do.”

And like Jake said, I get my first experience of the locals. As we walk around the city, I’m mesmerized by the architecture and colors around us. Jake smiles at me, knowing this is what I really wanted to see today. I’m not a resort girl. If I wanted that, I could get that at home.

Jake leads me up the street past abandoned colorful buildings to a small restaurant that looks like a recipe for food poisoning.

I don’t order. Jake does for me, and I have no idea what half this local flavor is, so I trust him. We make small talk as we wait for our food. He tells me he normally works on Tuesdays but convinced Zain to work for him. Then he also has Thursday off. It gives me a little thrill that today is one of his only days off, and he’s spending it with me.

“Why do you typically only have one day off a week?” Taking my napkin, I wipe away the condensation forming on my glass of water.

Jake chuckles, gesturing toward my water glass. “You just couldn’t help it, could you?”

“Nope.” I refuse to look at him and continue to stare at my napkin. “Answer my question. Why only one day off?”

“It’s just my dad, me, and Nash working there. Mom does the books and works in the afternoons when she can. Sometimes Zain fills in for me when he can.”

“Are you going to work there forever?”

He leans back in his chair, seeming relaxed. “I want my own bar someday. A place like my parents have, but with my own brand on it. My dad is great, but I want something of my own.”

“What would you name it?”

“Come Sundown.” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, his eyes on the table as if a distant thought is keeping them from meeting mine.

I love a man with ambition.

“Why Come Sundown? It’s not like a sexual come, is it?”

“No, weirdo.” And then his vulnerability breaks through and he shrugs one shoulder, his head tilting to the side. “No reason. I just like when the sun goes down. A chance to break free from the heat and be yourself.”

“Sounds like an amazing plan.” I smile, knowing exactly what he’s describing. “Why don’t you do it then? Open your own bar.”

He snorts, like I’m crazy for asking. “Money. I can’t afford to do it, and I have too much pride to ask my parents. So I don’t.” He shrugs again, but this time he watches me with an intensity I’m not expecting. “I work at the bar, do construction sometimes, and twice a year I go to Florida with Zain and we work construction for a few months. Money is shit here.” Lifting his glass of water, he takes a drink and then laughs lightly. “Maybe when I’m fifty I’ll have enough saved.”

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