“I’m not a fucking cat,” he finally hissed, sounding just like a cat. He narrowed his eyes, his cheeks red as he stared at me.

“You sure about that? You look two seconds away from brushing yourself up against my leg. Which I’m all for, in case that wasn’t obvious.” I winked. Giddiness filled me. I was about to have a home run.

Cruz stared at me for a second before bursting into laughter, making me pout. What? Huh?

“Sorry. I just wasn’t sure if you were yanking my chain or not. Let’s get one thing clear, though. I would never bottom for you. Now, what are the details of this trip? Because if you think for one second I’m not booking a room, you’re wrong on two accounts.”

I blinked, shocked by his words, and my brain struggled to compute what he’d said. Yanking? Bottom? Room?

Yes, to all of the above.

Wait. Not me. Cruise, not Cruz. Yes. Focus.

“It’s a cabin, not a room,” I mumbled, trying to envision what it would be like to be topped now that my brain had slowed.

Cruz smirked as he pulled out his phone and handed it over so I could add my number. He sent me a message with the location of the coffee shop and what time she worked before sliding out of the booth. He leaned down at my side, that seductive smell of whiskey, leather, eucalyptus, and honey invading me. I couldn’t wait to figure out which smell belonged to whom.

I blinked as his words skated over me as he whispered, “Don’t forget who the trap is for, Meu Dengo. I’ll be in touch.”

My breath lodged in my throat as my body buzzed. A man had never affected me this way before—with Kieran, it was different. Despite my more effeminate features, I’d always been the dominant one in the bedroom. And yet Cruz was shattering all those notions I’d contrived about myself. Point to Cruz.

It took a while for my heart to return to normal, and I pulled out my phone to plug in the word he’d said to me. I knew quite a bit of Portuguese from working with models, but that had been one I didn’t know. Except my Google search yielded no help.

“My dengo?” I muttered as I scrunched my nose. What the hell did that mean?

I suddenly wondered if he’d been right, and I was about to fall victim to my own trap. Cruz was unexpected, but I couldn’t deny being intrigued.

This cruise just became a whole lot more fascinating.

five

EVERLY

My skull pounded against my head in protest, the shrill of the foam wand not helping. Brenda, my new trainee, moved the milk carafe up and down like she wanted that wand to have a very nice day. When the milk bubbled over instead of thickening into foam, I snorted.

“Pre-milkulation,” I mumbled as I waited for Brenda to figure out that was not the way to make a cappuccino.

“Oops.” Brenda grimaced, glancing over her shoulder at me. Sighing, I grabbed a new carafe, filled it with milk to the proper line, and snapped the now clean nozzle down.

“You want to caress it much like a lover, keeping the wand just at the tip as you hold it,” I instructed as I did what I said. “Listen to the sound it makes. It will tell you exactly what it needs.”

“Whoa, that’s so pretty,” she cooed, looking at my foam as I poured it into a to-go cup before adding the espresso shot for the macchiato and then used the spoon to make a leaf. It was the only shape I could do, but it was pretty.

Surprisingly, making pretty coffee drinks was one of the few jobs I was good at. My steady hand from playing violin probably helped. The shop also had so much going on that it kept my brain active instead of bored like I was at most jobs.

“Here you go, Mer,” I said as I handed off the coffee to the waiting customer. “Your day’s about to get fabulous.”

“Thanks, Everly. See you next week,” Meredith said, waving as she held her coffee to her chest protectively. Brenda watched me with owlish eyes, her hero worship growing with every second she shadowed me.

“You’re the coolest person I know,” she beamed, making my cheeks heat.

“Nah. I’m not really.”

Fun fact, compliments about my skills made me nervous. Thanks for all the self-doubt, Mom.

I picked up a rag and wiped the foam wand before rinsing the carafe. I’d worked here for so long that the movements were mechanical. I could usually chat with coworkers or customers, focus on prepping the desserts, and sing along to the music as I cleaned, but none of it worked today.

From the moment my head hit the pillow on Trina’s couch, I could only think about Cruz and Phantom and how screwed I was. The thought of avoiding them felt like a kick to the gut I didn’t know if I could handle. Not right now, when everything else felt so uncertain. My foundation was shifting sand, and my legs were wobbly from constantly having to re-balance myself.