No Falling Allowed (No Kissing Allowed) Read Online Free

last drop.
    Focusing back on making drinks, I tried to rein in my thoughts because they were heading south and fast. I was flying out first thing in the morning. The last thing I needed was to get messed up with some chick I’d never see again. Priorities first. Always. I never deviated. Which was why, though I owned a bar, I rarely drank back home. Worry over an emergency popping up with Jonah, and me being too drunk to get there, always kept me on the careful side.
    “It’s a small town in South Carolina, just over the Georgia-South Carolina line. Though both states are still fighting over who gets to claim it.”
    “Why?”
    I rested my elbows on the bar and bent toward her, eager to reveal what made Cricket Creek worth a damn. At least to the rest of the country. “Mary Beth Orchards is in Cricket Creek.”
    Her blank stare told me she had no clue what the hell I was talking about, which disappointed me more than it should. I took for granted that everyone knew where MB Preserves and Wines came from, when really most people probably didn’t give a damn, preferring to just eat their jam and drink their wine.
    “MB Preserves and MB Wines?”
    Finally realization crossed her face. “Seriously? So MB is Mary Beth?”
    I nodded. “Mary Beth Brockton, wealthiest woman in the Creek, likely one of the wealthiest in the South. Tourists come through all the time, hence the battle of the states. Georgia would love a piece of that business, but Mary Beth is fiercely loyal to South Carolina, especially after that issue with her sister.”
    “What issue?”
    I flashed her a grin. “Now, now, City. You didn’t think I’d give away all the town’s secrets on our first date, did you?”
    She blanched, the look so freaking hilarious I almost asked her to do it again. “Are you insane? This isn’t a date. We’re in a bar. You’re the bartender. That’s not a date.”
    “Yeah…you say tomato, I say tomahto.” God, she was fun to mess with, and I was tempted to keep it going, but at her pointed look, I relented. “All right, fine. If this isn’t the real deal, then what’s your idea of a date?” I leaned in, my elbows resting on the bar again. A spicy, floral scent hit me, a hint of vanilla on its wake like an afterthought, and despite myself—and the risk of her decking me—I edged closer until we were inches apart. She swallowed hard as her eyes found mine. “Go ahead, city girl. I’m all ears.”
    Her throat worked again, slower this time, drawing my attention down. I wondered if her skin tasted like it smelled, if the mix of sweet and spicy would intoxicate my mouth the way it had my brain.
    I needed to get away from this girl before I did something stupid.
    “Well, he shows up at my door and—”
    “Let me guess, with flowers?”
    She cocked her head at me. “Am I describing this date or are you?”
    I lifted my hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. Go, I’m listening. Intently.”
    “You sound smarter than a bartender.”
    “You sound dumber than a socialite, so we’ll assume the ‘ass’ in assumption is right about now. Keep going.”
    For a moment she said nothing, and I thought I went too far, but I wasn’t the kind of guy to allow someone to insult me without a comeback. I was Southern, not stupid, and if not for my curiosity I would have ditched her right then. But behind the idiocy of the comment, her tone held a true interest that was almost innocent, and I wondered if she’d ever been down South in her life. If she’d ever been around people who worked with their hands and their hearts, who lived paycheck to paycheck and bought generic because they couldn’t afford the name-brand stuff.
    “I’m not dumb.” Her tone held more offense than I’d have expected from someone with the amount of arrogance she threw around. Once again, she surprised me.
    “No, you’re not.” My eyes met hers, refusing to let up, and she reached for her drink at the same time that I pushed it toward her, our