Keep This Promise

by Willow Winters

  I banish the hopeful thoughts running through my mind to the very darkest recesses of my brain.

  “This place doesn’t look like much but trust me. The food is awesome,” Shep murmurs close to my ear as we enter the building.

  “What if I’m allergic to shellfish?” I ask, batting my eyelashes at him when he turns to me, horror etched in his handsome features.

  He clears his throat, his gaze locked on mine. “Are you?”

  Slowly I shake my head, smiling. “No. But next time, you should probably ask.”

  “Next time I won’t need to ask because I’ll already know,” he says, frowning at me.

  “I mean next time. When you bring another girl to this restaurant,” I correct, hating the cold ball that seems to have formed in my stomach at the idea of Shep bringing another girl here. A girl that will come after me, because one will, I don’t need to fool myself.

  But I don’t necessarily need to think about her at this exact moment in time either.

  He stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind and for a moment, I wonder if I have. Or maybe I have something on my face. Maybe there’s a smudge of mascara beneath my eye (I told Kelli not to put it on so thick) or maybe I have lipstick on my teeth. Crap, I don’t know. This guy makes me feel so self-conscious it’s almost painful.

  Shep doesn’t say a word. He shakes his head and steps over to the hostess stand, telling the older woman who’s blatantly ogling him that he’d like a table for two.

  As discreetly as possible I press my index finger to the corner of my right eye and wipe, then look at it. No black smudge. I do the same to my left eye but there’s no mascara there either. Licking my lips, I dart out my tongue, touching the corner before I wipe at it with my thumb, taking away a little lipstick but nothing major.

  “What are you doing?”

  I glance up to find Shep watching me very carefully. Almost too carefully. I stand up taller and drop my hand away from my face but otherwise I say nothing. How can I explain myself? I’d end up sounding ridiculous.

  He leans in closer and bends down, his mouth almost level with my ear and I hear him murmur, “You look beautiful. Stop fidgeting.”

  Pleasure blooms in my chest, spreads through my limbs at his compliment. I should be offended he said stop fidgeting like I’m a child but I’m too focused on the words that preceded that comment.

  You look beautiful.

  I know I’m not a hideous troll but it’s not easy being a natural redhead with fair skin and freckles. I hated my freckles with everything I had when I was younger but I’ve come to terms with them now. I used to hate the red hair too. I’d get mean comments from boys, especially in high school, asking if my crotch was as fiery as the hair on my head. Some asshole called Lindsay Lohan a particularly nasty name referring to her hair, ahem, down there once a long time ago and I blame him for starting that whole thing.

  Fire Crotch.

  Ugh.

  The hostess leads us through the tiny dining area toward a small round table draped with a white tablecloth that sits next to a window. She presents our menus to us as soon as we’re in our chairs and then she buzzes off, ready to greet the next group of customers that just walked inside.

  It’s crowded and warm, there’s music playing in the background and I glance to my right to find the view of the ocean breathtaking, the sun so low it looks like it’s melting into the water.

  “Beautiful view,” I say as I turn to look at him, startled to find him staring at me blatantly.

  Ravenously.

  “Definitely,” he murmurs with a wicked smile and I feel the flush wash over me, my neck, my cheeks, oh my God even my forehead grows hot. He’s not talking about the ocean.

  I think…I think he’s talking about me.

  “You need to stop,” I tell him as I open the tiny menu to check out what is a rather limited selection.

  “Stop what?” he asks innocently.

  Glancing up, I find him watching me still, which only makes me blush harder. I silently curse my fair skin. And overly flirtatious guys. I have zero experience dealing with someone like Shep Prescott. “You’re making me nervous.”

  “How?”

  “With the—” I wave a hand. “—the compliments. The flirting.”

  “You’ve never flirted with someone before?”

  “Of course, I have,” I snap, immediately regretting my tone of voice. The man pushes me like no other. “It’s the way you flirt.”

  “And how’s that?”

  You’re good at it. More like, you excel in your flirtation skills. And I don’t know how to handle myself. I’m the failure, not you.

  “The over the top compliments aren’t necessary either,” I say, avoiding his question.

  “Afraid I’m going to have to disagree with you,” he tells me as he flips open his menu and studies it. “My compliments toward your beauty aren’t over the top.”

  There he goes again, saying I’m beautiful. I don’t even know how to react. I feel like I want to laugh or tell him to stop like I’m some uncomfortable preteen who doesn’t know how to take a compliment.

  More like I’m an uncomfortable nineteen year old who doesn’t know how to take one. So lame.

  I guess I remain quiet for too long because he’s watching me again, his brows furrowed, his mouth, his entire expression serious. “Has no one told you you’re beautiful before?”

  I shrug, mortified. “Beyond my mom? Who has to think I’m beautiful since she created me?”

  He looks shocked. “What about Noel?”

  Of course, he can’t get his name right. “You mean Joel? What about him?” Why are we talking about my ex on this so-called date?

  “He never told you that you’re beautiful?” Now he sounds disgusted.

  “No.” I want to shrink into the smallest ball possible and disappear. I keep my gaze fixed on the menu in front of me but the words are blurry. And I can feel him watching me, examining me bit by bit, feature by feature. What does he see? Or more important, does he like what he sees?

  I’m almost scared to know the answer.

  “Can I take your drink order?”

  I almost faint with relief. Saved by our server. She reminds me of my grandma, with short graying hair and glasses, a friendly smile plastered on her face. “Just water please,” I say.

  “Hey Barb, can I ask you a question?”

  Oh, no. He knows our waitress by name? What in the world is he going to ask her? I stiffen my shoulders, bracing myself for what he’s about to say.

  “Hit me with it, sugar.” Barb sounds amused but I can’t even look at her. Or him.

  “Do you think my date is beautiful?”

  “Oh my God,” I groan under my breath, holding the menu in front of my face.

  “I love her hair,” Barb says sincerely. “Though I can’t see the rest of her, what with that menu hiding her face.”

  “Come on, Jade. Don’t be shy,” Shep encourages.

  I drop the menu onto the table, where it falls with a loud clatter, and I glare at him, wishing I could silence him with my eyes.

  But it doesn’t work. He just grins at me, then looks up at Barb. “Even when she’s mad, she’s gorgeous.”

  “Very pretty,” Barb agrees with a nod of approval. “Considering you don’t bring girls around here ever, I can finally say you have most excellent taste. Not that I’m surprised.”

  Wait a minute. He doesn’t bring girls around here? Ever? I don’t understand.

  “Thanks, Barb. And I’ll have a beer. You know what I like.”

  She smiles and with a promise to be right back, scoots off. I watch her go, turning over what she said again and again. He doesn’t bring girls to this restaurant, yet he’s a frequent visitor since he knows the waitress. And she knows what type of beer he likes.

  What in the world is going on?

  “I always come here for lunch, usually with Gabe or my cousin Tristan,” Shep explains, like he can read my mind. “Barb owns t
he restaurant with her husband Jim.”

  “Oh.” I nod and reopen my menu, deciding I need to get the shrimp basket and just be done with it. So it’s fried shrimp with fries. So it’ll be packed with a bazillion calories. So what. I’ll make Kelli go running with me tomorrow morning to make up for my pig out.

  “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” He sounds sincere. I don’t know why he’s acting like this. Being so…

  Nice.

  That night when he caught me signaling to Joel, he’d been such a jerk. I gave him reason to be angry, I won’t deny that, but he’d been so smug, so rude. I could handle him then. Last night and earlier this afternoon too.

  But now? With him offering up compliments and behaving like a gentleman? He’s throwing me off.

  “Um, it’s okay.” I lift my head but thankfully this time he’s not looking at me. Which allows me to blatantly check him out. His head is bent, his golden brown hair falling over his forehead, his eyes cast down and I see that even his eyelashes are tipped with gold. Everything about him is gold, gold, gold. He’s gorgeous and rich and the epitome of the perfect golden boy and what the hell is he doing here with me when I am the farthest thing from perfect or golden.

  “I can feel you staring at me,” he says, his head still bent but I see the smile stretch across his face. Makes me want to throw my menu at him.

  Okay, fine. Not really.

  “I’m mad at you,” I tell him.

  He lifts his head, the smile fading. “Why?”

  “Because you embarrassed me.”

  “I was only speaking the truth. You’re going to have to get used to people telling you that you’re beautiful,” he says.

  Like that’s going to happen all the time. I am nothing special. “I don’t even know if I can take what you say seriously. Everything’s like a big joke to you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You always look like you’re ready to burst out laughing. Your life is so easy. Nothing bothers you. It must be nice.”

  His eyes flicker with some unrecognizable emotion. Could that have possibly been…hurt? Anger? “You have no idea what you’re talking about. My life is the farthest thing from easy.”

  My mouth goes dry and I return my focus to the menu even though I already know what I want. I feel like a jerk. He’s been nothing but nice to me tonight and I’ve been nothing but a jerk to him. I’ve probably blown my chance at another date with Shep, even though that was already blown the moment I agreed to go out with him.

  He must hate me.

  * * *

  Shep

  * * *

  Why’d I have to get all serious on her? I’m annoying the shit out of myself, let alone Jade.

  But she doesn’t know who I am or what my life is like. I get tired of everyone thinking I have it easy. I don’t. Dad is an asshole, Mom medicates herself to function and my sisters got their asses out of the house as fast as they could. I have no plans on going back either. I chose this college for a reason—it’s on the complete opposite coast of where my parents live.

  Barb shows up and takes our order, shrimp baskets for the both of us. The moment she leaves Jade blurts out, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—upset you.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I wave a hand, dismissing my mood, her words, all of it. “I don’t want to talk about me. Let’s talk about you.”

  Her expression goes from contrite to uneasy. “There’s not much to tell.”

  “I barely know you. There’s plenty to tell. Where are you from?”

  “A small town about two hours north of here.” She shrugs, drawing my attention to her chest. If I could will her to take off her sweater with my mind, I’d be working it hard right about now. “I lived there all my life. It’s very boring.”

  “This town isn’t much better.” Santa Augustina isn’t awful but it’s a small, typical coastal college city.

  “More exciting than where I grew up, trust me.” She flashes me a small smile, then turns it on Barb when she shows up to deliver our drinks. “I haven’t lived all over the world like some people sitting at this table,” she says pointedly after she takes a sip of her drink.

  My gaze is now locked on her lips. Those fantasy-inducing, bee-stung lips that look damn good wrapped around a straw and would look even better wrapped around my…

  “You have any brothers or sisters?” she asks, her sweet voice breaking through my dirty thoughts.

  “Two older sisters,” I answer before I grab my beer and down half of it in a few swallows. I need to get my shit together and stop acting like a leering jackass. Considering Jade’s strung pretty tight, I don’t want to piss her off.

  “So you’re the baby of the family.”

  I smile. “The prodigal son.” With all the expectations and bullshit that comes with it.

  “Did your sisters dote on you?”

  “If by doting on me you mean did they paint my fingernails and toenails and put makeup on my face, all while having me model their clothes? Yes, they totally doted on me.” They were mean even when they were young. Not that I was much better. I was a holy terror—direct quote from Mom.

  “Aw.” She smiles and it’s genuine. I can tell because it lights up her face and steals my breath so all I can do is stare at her. “I bet you were an adorable girl.”

  “Gorgeous,” I agree, never missing a beat. “I missed my calling. Maybe I should’ve become a drag queen.”

  “Then you could share shoes and clothes with your girlfriends,” she jokes, that smile still in place.

  “I don’t have girlfriends, remember?” The smile fades and I feel like an ass. Way to remind her I’m nothing but a player who only hooks up.

  “Then you could share clothes and shoes with your sisters,” she suggests with a little shrug. “Makeup tips. Braid each other’s hair.”

  “No braids. Only wigs will do. Those giant ones, made with the finest hair you can buy,” I correct, making her lips curl. Now I’m determined to make that smile reappear. “I’m sort of tall for a woman so I’d want to stand out, you know? Add a few inches with a wig. And heels.”

  “Four inches?” she asks, raising one delicate, perfectly arched, perfectly red eyebrow. I have never had a thing for redheads before. I don’t know if I’ve even hooked up with one before…have I?

  I don’t think so. What a prejudiced bastard I am, discriminating against redheads. Might make my hooking up with Jade that much sweeter.

  Because I will hook up with her. Get her naked. Get her beneath me. However you want to say it, it’s going to happen. By the end of tonight, preferably.

  “Is that as high as they go? Maybe five inches? With platforms or whatever?” I ask.

  The smile is back. Subdued but there, lighting her eyes, lighting up her entire face. “You sound like you have more knowledge about women’s fashion than you should admit.”

  Leaning across the table, I lower my voice, “There are things you don’t know about me, Jade.”

  Her eyes widen the slightest bit. “Like what?”

  “Like I’m a kinky bastard who enjoys wearing women’s panties in my spare time.” The horrified shock that washes over her face makes me burst out laughing. “Kidding. I swear.”

  She slowly shakes her head, her smile turning into a smirk. “Very funny.”

  “It was pretty funny, the look on your face,” I agree.

  “You’re just proving my point.” She takes another sip of her water and I die a little inside. Fuck, her mouth. It should be outlawed. “Everything’s a big joke. Ha ha, so funny. Har har.”

  “Better to laugh than be sad all the time?” I ease back against my chair, trying my best to hide the smile that wants to happen but failing. “And did you just har har me?”

  Her cheeks turn crimson. I love that I can make her blush. I love her pale skin, something I never found attractive before. I’m struck again with the question—just how many freckles does this girl have? Will she let me spend enough time count
ing each one?

  The thought of her naked and sprawled across my bed as I meticulously count every tiny freckle on her body is exceptionally appealing.

  “You’re a pain in the ass,” she mutters, making me laugh.

  Oh, yeah. I like this girl. A lot.

  “Har har,” I tell her and she looks ready to throw her glass of water on my face. Thank God Barb shows up at that precise moment with our dinner.

  “Listen, I don’t know why you’re putting me through all of this torture, but I’m done,” Jade hisses at me the moment Barb is gone. “We’ll eat dinner, you’ll take me back to my dorm, and that’s it. The date is finished. We’re finished.”

  I raise a brow. No girl has uttered those words to me before. Ever. I sound like an asshole even in my own head but it’s the truth. I never give them time to want to be finished with me. “You don’t mean it,” I drawl, my stomach growling. The shrimp and fries smell fucking delicious and I’m starved.

  “I definitely mean it. This has been a joke to you from the start. Winning me in a hand of poker. Give me a break,” she mumbles just as she plucks a giant shrimp from her basket and sinks her teeth into it. The sound of pleasure she gives at first taste has my cock twitching.

  Damn it.

  “This is good,” she says once she swallows. Her eyes are wide, her expression a little dazed, like she’s shocked I’d take her to a place that serves, you know, delicious food.

  Her expectations of me seem incredibly low. But I’m thankful for the distraction. At least she’s not griping at me about what a shit I am anymore.

  “You sound surprised.” I give in and start eating, thankful for that first awesome bite. I haven’t been here in a while and I always wonder why I don’t come more often.

  “Well, look at this place. It’s kind of run down.” She glances around and so do I. She’s right. The interior isn’t the most impressive but the restaurant has been around for ages and we’re right by the ocean. The food and the view are what make this place.