“I’m good,” I repeated what I’d told the girl.

He slapped my back while joining me to view the water rolling onto the sand as the sunlight spilled down over it. “I’ll never understand you. You’ve got the looks, the accent, and the money. Why not take advantage of it at every turn?”

I glanced at him, lowering my glasses down my nose. “What makes you think I don’t?” I smiled, shoving my Aviators back in place. “Just not in the mood tonight.” I wasn’t sure why exactly. Maybe it was because everyone I had met lately was starting to feel the same. Same look. Same stories. Same everything turning into nameless memories.

“Well, care if I shoot my shot, then?”

“Go for it. Just don’t forget our flight time.” I smiled, then waved John off. After a few more quiet moments of peace, I went to the bar, carefully avoiding John and the other two sailors I was there with.

I rested my forearms on the sticky bar top, rotating my neck from side to side. “Maker’s Mark. Neat.”

“You sure about that?” I slowly turned to the woman at my side, an angel in a sundress.

Literally.

The way the sun was hitting her back, she was glowing.

I held my hand up, signaling to the bartender to hold off on the order. I fixed my slouched position, standing to my full height, and faced the beautiful woman. “And what do you recommend?”

“Hmm.” She rolled her lips inward, eyes on the bottles as if deep in thought. “I think for a man like you, you’d enjoy Legacy Ridge.” She gave me the gift of her full attention again.

I took off my Aviators and hooked them to the front of my polo, needing a clearer view of her eyes, which were the most stunning shade of green I’d ever seen. “A man like me, huh?”

She discreetly pointed at John on the other side of the U-shaped bar, flirting with the woman I’d so-called saved a few minutes earlier.

“Oh.” I shrugged. “You saw that, huh?”

“Maybe.” She smiled, showing her teeth, and what a fucking smile.

Damn.

“So, tell me, oh-wise-one,” I teased, “why that one? What’s special about it?”

She keyed in on a bottle of Legacy Ridge sitting by itself on the top shelf. “Aged for ten years in Kentucky. Hints of toffee, orange peel, a little honey, leather, and oak.”

I waited for her eyes to return to mine before I asked, “And how do you know so much about bourbon? You a fan?”

“I’m actually not much of a drinker.” She raised her glass. “This is lemonade.”

For a non-drinker, she knew an awful lot about whiskey.