Page 24 of Spilled Coffee

Ethan sighed, tension settling in his stomach.Op went to shit.His mind spun, conjuring flashes of gunfire, Logan barking orders, and the chaos he’d missed.

Relief hit next—they were safe—but still something gnawed at him, like a splinter under his skin.

It was two days since Logan had sent him packing, and every minute had dragged. His nights were a sleepless churn of tossing in tangled sheets, replaying the fallout. One moment, he’d berate himself:How could I be so stupid?The next, resentment would flare:How dare Logan treat me like that?

Brick’s text lingered. Beers and ladies. Maybe that was the cure. Perhaps he could drown this fixation for Logan with cold brews and a woman’s curves. All this downtime, cooped up in his dim apartment with its peeling paint and buzzing fridge, wasn’t helping. His brain had become a hamster wheel of regret, spinning nowhere.

He slammed the truck door shut and circled to the driver’s side. His attention suddenly caught on a storefront across the street, its blacked-out windows staring back like a challenge.

Secrets.The name swirled in bold purple cursive that seemed to glow against the dark tinted windows.

He froze, keys dangling, heart kicking up a notch. A sex shop. The realization made his pulse quicken.

He locked the truck with a chirp, shoved the keys in his pocket, and after dodging a slow-rolling sedan, crossed the street.

His reflection loomed in the window: tall, broad, a grocery-toting SEAL teetering on the edge of something reckless.

The sidewalk was quiet, just a couple ambling past and a guy in a hoodie hunched over his phone. Ethan checked both ways, paranoia prickling his neck.

Hand on the door, he pushed. An off-key bell jangled overhead as he stepped inside.

The air shifted from sunbaked heat to air-conditioned cool and a thick swirl of unfamiliar scents. The store was bathed ina soft neon haze of pink and blue lights pulsing faintly from the ceiling.

Tall shelves filled with vibrators in garish pinks and purples lined every wall. Leather cuffs and restraints dangled from hooks, while plugs and beads stood in rows of escalating size.

Ethan’s heart pounded, steady and insistent.What the hell am I doing?Panic clawed at his throat.This isn’t you. Get out of here. You’re a Navy SEAL, not a fucking creep.

He spun, hand gripping the door, ready to bolt.

“Hey, honey, may I help you?” The bright, lilting voice with a playful drawl stopped him cold.

Ethan turned and faced a striking man with the posture of someone completely comfortable in his own skin. He was as tall as Ethan but leaner, all sinew and swagger, with artificially bronzed skin that gleamed under the lights. He wore a faded pink cropped T-shirt that hugged his chest and showed off his tattooed arms—swirling vines and a snarling tiger that curled from his wrists up to his collarbone. Piercings glinted everywhere: a silver stud in his nose, another through his lip, and massive gold hoop earrings that danced with his every move.

Ethan was caught off-guard by the sheer presence of the man, and reluctantly acknowledged how attractive he was with those sharp cheekbones and mischievous dark eyes.

“Uh...” he stammered, mind blank. “No... sorry, I think I’m in the wrong place.” He forced a smile, swallowing hard. “I’m just leaving.”

“You sure there’s nothing I can interest you in?” The man’s smile shifted to a gentle, knowing expression as he dramatically tilted his head, making his gold hoops swing. “If you’re looking for something in particular, maybe I can help. I’m fabulous at helping lost men find things.”

Ethan hesitated, pinned by that grin. It was warm and disarming, like a lifeline in this alien environment. “Uh... no, I’m not into this kinda stuff. Sorry.” He managed a shaky smile, nerves buzzing under his skin.

The guy’s expression remained patient but skeptical, his perfectly shaped eyebrows arching as Ethan cracked the door. “Honey, wait… if you’re after something specific,” his tone softened with surprising gentleness, eyes flicking over Ethan’s fidgeting frame, “maybe for yourgirlfriend… I can help?”

Ethan froze, the door ajar, cool air brushing his neck. He turned back, heart pounding, and sucked in a deep breath. “Uh… I’m not sure,” he admitted, a frown creasing his brow.

“Not sure?” The man’s laugh was warm and genuine as he sashayed closer, hand outstretched with a theatrical flourish. “Let’s start simple, gorgeous. I’m Marcus.” He grinned and struck a pose that made his gold hoops jangle. “And what do I call you, or are you just the strong, silent type? I do love a man of mystery.”

Ethan felt his lips tug up slightly. “I’m just leaving.”

Marcus chuckled. “Well, pleased to meet you, Mr. I’m-Just-Leaving. Though that’s quite the mouthful for such a handsome face.”

Ethan laughed too, a nervous huff. “Sorry—Ethan. It’s Ethan.”

“Well, pleased to meet you, Ethan.” Marcus gave a little twirl, his earrings dancing. “Now, what can I do for you? And trust me, sweetie, the options are endless.”

A loud crash from the back of the store interrupted them. Shelves rattled and boxes thudded to the floor, followed by a muffled curse.

Marcus groaned, throwing his hands up with dramatic flair. “Oh, for the love of the goddess… Jake! What’d I tell you? Hands off the damn stock! This isn’t a playground for your curiousfingers.” He raked a hand over his buzz cut, sighing. “Give me a sec, handsome. I gotta stop him trashing the place. Browse, take your time.”

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