Chapter 2
DENVER
I should not be here. This is a bad idea. This is, frankly, one of the worst ideas I’ve ever had. And that includes letting Rene talk me into a drag cruise two years ago full of hearing people.
In the Bahamas.
In July.
We ended up sweating our balls off, unable to communicate with most of the people on the ship—including the staff—and missed the warning when all the passengers were told over the intercom that we were sailing into the edge of a hurricane.
The way that ship bobbed and rolled unexpectedly?
I felt like I was literally going to die.
But I can’t blame Rene for my bad choices today, considering he has no idea I’m sitting in front of the cat café. It’s the last place I have evidence of my…well, for lack of a better word, hero.
Though I hate how that sounds in my head. My savior? No, that’s not any better. Let me try, “the terrifyingly hot man who wiped blood off my face and had me tenting my cashmere joggers.”
Ugh, I’m no good at this, even if all those descriptions are true. He saved me, he got blood on my face after knocking my stalker out, and I have never had a harder dick in my life than when his tender fingers wiped away the spatter.
But all of that sounds ridiculous. In fact, being here is ridiculous. I have no business trying to hunt him down, so why am I here?
Maybe I can tell myself it’s because I’ve heard good things about this café. From what Rome told me, they’re Deaf-friendly, and the café does rescues instead of buying from breeders, which I love. Their place isn’t full of those adorable chibi-faced kittens everyone loves.
They’re a no-kill shelter that takes in the ugly ones. The outcasts. The straggly street cats that would probably die without help. So these guys can’t be all bad, right? Even if they beat dangerous strangers half to death in dark alleys?
Also, they have coffee, and considering I didn’t sleep for shit last night—obsessing over my scar-faced man—I’m in desperate need of caffeine.
At the very least, it’s reason enough for me to get out of my car and make my way to the entrance of the store, though my stomach is twisting around itself the closer I get. God, what do I even say to him if I see him again?
Hi? Thanks for the rescue? Any tips on how to get blood out of fabric?
Or maybe, Hello, I keep thinking about you, and would you like to drop to your knees and suck my dick?
Does a guy like that even get on his knees for a guy like me?
God, I need sleep.
Pulling the door open, I step inside and take a deep breath of the coffee-scented air. I’m not wearing my CIs today because my sleep-deprivation headache was overwhelming, but there’s a slight vibration under my feet, which tells me music is playing.
At the front desk, there’s a broad-shouldered guy standing there who, if I squint, looks a bit like the stranger who saved me.
He’s definitely older though. He has a few crow’s feet by the sides of his eyes and just a sprinkling of gray at his temples.
He also looks far more tired than my stranger did.
Maybe because my stranger sleeps in a coffin. Maybe I should invest in one. The vampires could be onto something.
I glance at the guy again and see he’s wearing a lanyard with a light blue, white, and pink pattern and a badge, but it’s facing away from me, so I can’t read his name.
“Welcome in,” I read off his lips.
My lipreading skills are pretty decent, and usually, most people follow a script that I can predict, but I’m not really in the mood to try and follow a verbal conversation in any capacity.
‘Hi.’ I go slower than I want to. ‘You sign?’
He lifts his hands. ‘Yes. Welcome. You have appointment?’ His hands move like my stranger’s: fluent but with that stiff, slightly hesitant hearing accent.
I wonder where they learned ASL.
I wonder why they did.
‘No. I was just…’ My fingers wiggle in front of me as I try to parse out what to say.
I can’t tell him I’m looking for a guy who beat up my stalker, got me super horny in the process, and then disappeared into the night.
And I also can’t say that he was last seen lugging a coffin around town, which I only know from cyberstalking him.
Yeah. No. The guy will most likely call the cops and have me locked up, and I’m really not in the mood for that.
‘Coffee?’ I sign after way too long.
He looks a little confused and points toward the door that reads CAFé in block letters. They look like they’re peel-and-stick instead of professionally done, and they’re a little lopsided. Points for trying, I guess.
Before I turn, he waves his hand at me. ‘If you want to pet the cats after you’re done with your coffee, you can go in.’ He points at the other door with the same peel-and-stick stickers that read KATS.
Hm, maybe they used the only C sticker for the CAFé sign.
The idea of kitten cuddles helps my mood a bit. And I’m sure I’d be fully restored if I could just snuggle a few of them. Especially if my dangerously hot stranger isn’t here.
‘Thanks.’ My fingers don’t quite tremble as they tip from my chin, but it’s a near thing. What if he’s behind the café door? My stomach squirms, and adrenaline races through me, erasing my need to caffeinate.
Oh well. I’m already here, so I might as well finish my quest to find him.
I push my way inside and feel both disappointed and a little relieved to find no one behind the counter. Then I feel movement behind me, and the guy from the front counter appears.
This time, his name badge is facing the right way.
Percy.
He smiles. ‘What can I get you?’
‘Dirty chai,’ I spell absently without looking at the menu. It’s my go-to drink when I don’t know what the fuck I want or what I’m doing, so hopefully, he knows what that means.
He nods, then rings me up, and I tap my card on the machine before stepping to the side to watch him make it. His back is turned for a moment, so I can observe him. He’s built like my hero in the alley with his wide shoulders and strong arms.
And he moves a bit like the stranger did: catlike and with purpose.
It’s slightly terrifying, if I’m being honest. I don’t get the same swooping feeling in my stomach for Percy as I did for my vampire-coffin guy, but I’m really starting to think these two are connected.
I knock on the counter, and he turns his head. ‘Do you own this place?’
He wrinkles his nose as he turns and sets my chai and a pitcher of steamed milk on the counter. ‘No. This is my brother’s café.’
His brother. My heart kicks up a notch.
‘We just moved here, so I’m helping him out. He’s with the cats if you want to meet him.’
It feels like all the air has left my lungs, and it takes me a moment to realize he’s handing me my drink. My hands are definitely shaking this time as I lift one to my chin. ‘Thanks.’
He nods and turns away. Maybe he’s giving me privacy because I’m clearly having a fucking moment here. I don’t hide my feelings very well. I’m glad he doesn’t ask what’s wrong. I’m not sure my hands wouldn’t betray me and tell him the whole truth.
I don’t know that he’d react well if I said I was saved by the guy I think is your brother, then I cyberstalked him, and now I’m here.
Yeah, I should leave.
I, of course, ignore that thought, and instead, I push my way out of the café and immediately walk over to the cat room.
This door is heavier, probably to keep the cats from escaping, and it swings open with a lot of force.
I’m immediately hit with the scent of air freshener and cat box stench.
It’s not the most pleasant mix, and it makes my eyes water for a second.
I take a moment to adjust, and as the door swings closed behind me, I glance around the room. It’s bigger than I expected, full of cat trees and toys. There are stuffed fish on strings hanging from the ceiling, and carpeted benches lining the walls that have been scratched to hell.
And in the corner of the room is a muscular man with short, dark curls, wearing a T-shirt that shows off his arm, which is covered in tattoos. He meets my gaze, and his lips move, but I’m way too distracted by the fact that he’s not my stranger to catch what he’s saying.
I default to my usual ‘Sorry, I’m Deaf,’ hoping he knows ASL too.
My disappointment in realizing he’s not my hero is overwhelming, but I do everything in my power to keep it from showing on my face. It’s not easy. A huge part of signing is facial expression, but I’m also a performer, so I’m better at it than some of my Deaf friends.
The guy studies me for a moment, then puts down the grooming brush he was just cleaning and swipes his hands on his jeans.
‘Nice to meet you. I’m Milo. I didn’t know we had appointments,’ he signs, walking over.
His signs are not as fluent as his brother’s, but considering I teach hearing beginners for a living, I can read them easily.
‘I stopped in for a drink,’ I say, holding up my chai.
Milo smiles. He looks sweet, but there’s something in his eyes too, just like Percy. Something that tells me he’s dangerous but that I’m probably safe in this room with him.
‘Denver,’ I spell. I add my sign name that I use for students and strangers. ‘Nice place.’ The bitterness of not seeing my guy again is a little much, but I swallow it down with a mouthful of chai.
He puffs up his chest and nods. ‘I know. I worked hard on it. Most of the cats are having afternoon naps, but you can disturb them. They like to be pet. And if you want to adopt—’
‘I can’t,’ I tell him quickly. ‘My apartment has a no-pets policy, and I can’t afford to move. Teacher,’ I add when he gets a glint in his eye like he might tell me to move somewhere that can accommodate animals or else.
He deflates, then shrugs. ‘Well, you can come over and pet them anytime you want.’
It feels a bit like a dismissal, so I sip my drink and walk over to what’s probably a dog bed to find three cats curled up together. One is all black, and the other two are brown tabbies. The smaller brown one is missing both ears.