2. Chapter 2
Chapter two
Brooks
Ifrowned at the little umbrella the bartender at the Sandbar & Sips had placed in my straight-up whiskey. The little tiki bar was crowded—it was always hopping during tourist season—and I’d usually rather be caught dead anywhere but here.
But three days into forced vacation time and I was already tired of being on land with nothing to do.
Rafi had made it clear: I hadn’t taken a vacation since I’d joined Sunbreak Security five years ago, and I was on leave for the next two weeks.
Period. Sloane had backed him up. No operational tempo was high enough to justify skipping it this time.
So here I was, clock-watching my way through mandatory downtime, restless as hell and trying not to invent work that didn’t exist.
Surfing had been my go-to, but it wasn’t enough. It didn’t offer the same focus, the same clean parameters, as the maritime rescues or the close protection I typically provided. I lived inside structure for a reason. Without it, my mind had too much room to wander.
Dropping the umbrella onto the bar top, I lifted my glass and tossed back the amber liquid just as someone slid onto the empty stool next to me.
I set the glass down and slid it across the bar, trying to get a glimpse of her in the mirror behind the bottles.
“Whatcha drinkin’?” she asked, her voice low and smooth like the whiskey I’d just downed, and it hit me hard, like I’d just belly-flopped into the ocean from a hundred-foot drop.
“Bulleit. Straight up,” I said, turning to her.
Wild curls fell from the top of her head, exposing her throat.
Her shirt fit like a second skin, and I could just see a tease of cleavage.
The shorts she wore were short enough to make a priest blush.
Lust punched the whiskey buzz right out of me, and all I could think of was how soft the skin on her thighs looked.
She pulled a wad of cash out of her overflowing unzipped bag and waved it over the bar. When the bartender ignored her, she let out a piercing whistle. “Two Bulleits, please.”
Bill, the bartender, flashed a look of annoyance her way before snatching something off the bar and heading our way. Without a word, he set another glass on the bartop, but before he could fill it, she placed her hand over his.
“Ice in mine. Thank you.”
He looked at her hand, still on his, then pointedly up at her. She dropped her hand, but I didn’t sense a hint of remorse.
Bill added ice, then filled our glasses with whiskey. She laid the money on the bar and picked up her glass. “Bottoms up.” When I didn’t lift my glass, she raised an eyebrow. “We drinkin’ or what?”
I shrugged and picked it up, then clinked it against hers before tossing it down in one gulp. “That’s three for me.”
She tossed hers back, then set her empty glass on the bar. “Is this the place to be on a hot summer night?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at the crowd.
“Closest to the beach.” I didn’t come in here often, but it was always packed.
A guy wedged between us. “Hey, Bill,” he called. “Beer me.” He turned to the woman. “Oh, hey.” He stepped closer to her. “You’re new here? I’m Mickey. You are?”
“Not interested,” she muttered, the smile dropping from her face.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. Just trying to be friendly.” Bill set the beer in front of the man, and he gulped about a quarter of it down. “I could show you around.”
“Mickey,” I said, my voice low and controlled.
He looked over his shoulder and pointed at his ear. “Can’t hear you, buddy.”
I leaned closer. “You have less than five seconds to walk away before I make sure you don’t walk out of here. Hear me now?”
Mickey paled and stepped away from the woman, then leaned back in to snatch his beer off the bar. “Sorry, dude,” he mumbled before disappearing into the crowd.
“So are you?” I asked over the rising tide of voices.
Her gaze darted to mine, color in her cheeks. I wondered if she’d heard what I’d said. “Am I what?”
“New here?”
“My sister lives here. Came to visit but she wasn’t home. Thought I’d look for her in town. Thank you for that, by the way.”
“Take it you didn’t find her. It’s tourist season, you won’t find a room. And you’re welcome.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Offering me your spare bedroom?” Before I could respond, she shook her head, the curls dancing around her face. “I have her spare key.”
Her fingers tapped on the bar, then with a smile that made her blue eyes sparkle, she said, “What about you? Come here often?”
An unwanted smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Are you picking me up?”
“Still deciding.”
Curiosity got the better of me. I leaned closer. “What’s holding you up?”
“A lifetime of bad decisions.”
I knew I should walk away. Anyone that made a claim like that had baggage, and I saved people from the water, from external threats.
Not from themselves. Every instinct screamed at me to get up off this barstool and find another distraction.
I didn’t need more trouble. But there was something about her that drew me in—chaotic, impulsive, the exact opposite of everything I ordered my life around.
I stood up and held out my hand. “I’m not a bad decision. ”
Her gaze caught mine and held it. For a second, vulnerability shone in her eyes. “Not so sure about that.”
“Give me a chance. Let me prove it to you.”
After the briefest hesitation, she slid her soft hand into my palm. “Okay.”