Page 48 of Bastard Bartender

He turns to me as a small smile tugs on one side of his mouth. “I was diagnosed with a brain tumor when I was two. It was rare and difficult to find a specialist. That’s when my parents moved to the States from Mexico. There was a surgeon in Cincinnati who knew how to operate on it. I was in remission for a long time.”

“That’s amazing. Your parents must have sacrificed a lot to get you the care you needed.”

“Well, my parents are the hovering kind. Almost losing their only son had them raising me on a tight leash. They were fortunate enough to get jobs that kept them near the hospital. My father teaches international business at the university, and Mom has been with the hospital for over twenty-five years. Just when enough time had passed for them to let me enjoy my childhood like a typical kid, my tumor returned.”

“Oh my goodness. How old were you?”

“Eleven. I spent the next two years in and out of the hospital. Radiation and chemotherapy, clinical trials. My parents signed me up for anything and everything. I was declared cancer-free just before I started high school. My immune system was shit, and I had the worst headaches. They decided to homeschool me just in case. I tried to explain that you couldn’t catch cancer in school, but they wanted me close by at all times. I let them because at that point, it was all I knew.”

I reach for his hand, not sure what to say, but feeling awful about what he went through. By his expression, I can see that’s the exact reaction most people have, and he’s sick of hearing it, so I go for a lighter subject.

“So, tell me then, how does a boy from Ohio make his way to Vegas?”

“Same as the SoCal girl. He flew.” His smile reaches his eyes. “I flew quickly and without their blessing. When I turned eighteen, I packed a bag and went to Europe. Backpacked for a year before I ran out of money. Man, that was an adventure. I came back home and hung out for a few years but knew it wasn’t for me. That was when I started bartending. Earned enough cash to get me to Mexico. I spent a few years with my abuela. She was old and needed help. Plus, I wanted to explore the southern hemisphere. It worked until she passed. She left me the house, so I gave half the money to my parents and bought a one-bedroom place here in Vegas with the other half.”

There are so many questions I want to ask. About his prognosis, his health, his family. I start with an easy one. “Why Vegas?”

“Warm weather year-round, no income tax, and it’s the best location for an adventurer. Drive a few hours west, and be at the Pacific Ocean. Go north, and I can ski. Head out east, and there’s every adventure I can think of. The airport is close by, and the city literally never sleeps. It’s a good landing place for a guy on the go.”

“It is a pretty nice place. And you’re a wonderful guy.”

He puffs his chest out. “Obviously, but how do you figure?”

“You beat cancer not once, but twice.”

“Cheated death, is more like it. You know, one thing no one tells you when you’re sick like that is how many people you’re going to see die. I lost a lot of friends before I was fifteen. I made some of my best buddies in the cancer ward of a hospital. I’ve never understood why I survived and they didn’t.”

I place a hand on his arm and stand to step forward. “Nicolás—”

“Never take a moment for granted.” His eyes find mine and hold them steady, willing me to not only hear what he’s saying, but to also truly understand it. “Be crazy, live wildly, and have a fucking blast doing it.”

My heart is beating once again, but it’s not because of the hike or the view. It’s because of this man and his passion for living. “Are you no longer afraid to die?”

“I’m not afraid to live.”

His lips part, and his already-dark eyes turn midnight. He leans in the slightest bit, and my breath hitches. I lick my bottom lip and inch closer. The heat of his body radiating against mine.

I know I’ve said this man is just my friend, but in this moment, if he were to kiss me, I’d let him.

His eyes squint a little, as if trying to read mine.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

A slow Cheshire grin graces his full lips. “I was about to do something wild.”

“Then, do it,” I dare.

His smile turns wicked as he takes a step back. In one quick motion, he takes his shirt off and exposes his very taut stomach, the one I had a chance to see at my apartment. But here, in the sun, his golden skin glistening against the red rock makes him look ethereal.

“You ready to live with me?”

He extends a hand, and I stare at it in trepidation.

“Live … how?”

He takes off his shoes. “We’re gonna jump.”

“No. You can jump. I’m not.”

“Why not. Scared?” His brow rises in a question.

“Petrified. You might be on this third chance at life kick, but I’m very happy, staying feet first on the ground in my first—and probably only—life.”

He drops his hand and brings it to the button of his jeans, lowering them down to the ground. Those thick thighs, corded with muscle, are straining through his boxer briefs, as is the impressive bulge he’s sporting. I gasp and then look up to his smirking face.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Suit yourself.” With three long strides, he runs and jumps off the cliff into the water below.

I yelp just before he comes up for air, pushing his hair back and screaming like a crazy fucking Gemini.

He’s so bad, and yet I want to be just like him. I have to be careful though. This bad boy with the soft spot on the inside just might steal my heart.