“That’s because you need to pursue things, Andrew.” He patted my forearm. “Things besides what you’ve already been doing. You need to think outside the box and be aggressive.”

  I shot him a side-eye. “Dad. This is me we’re talking about.”

  “I know, but you can learn new tricks just like any old dog.”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. I understood what he was saying, but it was easier said than done. “Employers want to know what I’ve got experience with. I can’t really do new tricks at the interview stage, you know?”

  “Sure you can.”

  I inclined my head. “Such as?”

  “For starters, by applying for things you normally wouldn’t.”

  I arched an eyebrow, but before I could protest, he went on.

  “You’ve got to take some risks. Jump on opportunities. Don’t just sit back and hope those opportunities notice you. Even if it’s a job that seems like more than you’re qualified for on paper, you might be exactly what someone’s looking for.”

  I tried not to sigh impatiently. Times had changed since my dad had been applying for work. Employers didn’t have time to waste on people whose ambition reached beyond their qualifications, and I wasn’t about to put myself on anyone’s shit lists. The days of pounding pavement, tossing your résumé at everyone who’d listen, and generally being a pain in someone’s ass until they recognized your persistence as ambition and hired you? Those days were over.

  Right then the waiter arrived with our food, which turned out to be sliced baguettes with warm goat cheese and caramelized onions. They were amazing, too. I was going to have to make these at home.

  As a bonus, they pulled my dad’s focus away from my floundering career. While we worked our way through the food and sangria, he and Mom discussed whether it would be worthwhile to sign up for the Alhambra excursion while the ship was in Gibraltar later in the week.

  And me? My mind went right back to the place it had been for the last two days.

  It was almost seven when my parents and I made it back to the ship. We had dinner in one of the ship’s many restaurants, and they went to see a show while I bowed out and went back to my cabin to relax.

  Except I wasn’t relaxing. I was restless. I needed a break from being joined at the hip with my parents, yes, but staying here in my cabin all night? Not a chance, unless I was just going to lie here and mentally ogle the man who’d been on my mind all day.

  I sat on the edge of my bed and thumbed through the itinerary to see if there was anything interesting going on. Shows…movies…themed parties…

  The LGBT mixer appeared on the screen, and I stopped scrolling.

  Instantly, my stomach was a ball of nerves. Just the thought of going down there and trying to meet someone…oh God. How was I even supposed to do that? I could barely approach someone on a hey let’s go fuck app, never mind in person.

  On the other hand, the odds of me seeing anyone I met at that mixer after the cruise were slim to none. I could walk in there, get sloppy drunk, say something stupid, and hook up with a guy I would never touch sober, and no one would ever know. Hell, if I drank enough, even I wouldn’t know.

  Okay, maybe dial it back a notch. No getting blackout drunk. If I dented my dignity tonight, I would damn sure remember it…but no one in my social circles would ever know it had happened.

  I chewed my lip as I stared at the icon for the mixer. What did I have to lose besides a little pride? And hell, I had a cabin to myself. The bed was narrow, but it would fit two if we were…like…stacked.

  Yep. I was going.

  I tossed my phone on the bed and went into the bathroom to grab a shower.

  Whoever had organized this mixer had spared no expense making sure there was zero chance of someone stumbling in here and not realizing it was a queer event. Every surface was either covered in something rainbow—flags, confetti, streamers—or illuminated by strategically placed rainbow lights.

  And probably just to be sure some little old ladies didn’t stumble in here and have a heart attack, there were a couple of employees stationed outside like bouncers. They asked just about everyone if they were here for the mixer before letting them in.

  I must have telegraphed queer pretty strongly because they waved me in without a word. I didn’t bother thinking about whether or not that offended me; I knew how people saw me. And besides, the sooner they let me in, the sooner I could find someone hot and available.

  At the bar, I ordered up a glass of liquid courage. Not just metaphorically, either—there was literally a drink called Liquid Courage on the menu. I didn’t pay much attention to what was in it. I wasn’t a big drinker, so I had no idea what half the liquors and liqueurs were. I just gave it a quick look to make sure it didn’t have tequila in it, then ordered one.

  It wasn’t bad. Sweet with a sour edge, and definitely something strong. Perfect.

  Drink in hand, I leaned against the bar and scanned the room. The crowd was mostly men with a handful of women and some androgynous people. There was a drag queen wandering around handing out rainbow paraphernalia to attach to hair and clothing, and I didn’t think even one more person could possibly fit on that tiny dancefloor. They sure tried, though.

  Around the edges were couples. Some who seemed cozy enough to be established. Others who were extra cozy like they were just waiting for one or the other to whip out a room key and say, “Let’s get out of here.”

  I took a deep swallow of Liquid Courage. It wasn’t doing much, but it kept my mouth from going dry just in case I needed to effortlessly deliver some smooth lines to whichever hot man I finally managed to approach.

  Smooth lines. Me. Ha. I’d be lucky if I could stammer my name and maybe something in the ballpark of I’m into you. Online dating had been specifically invented for people like me who needed to type-delete-type-delete-type a few dozen times before actually hitting Send. There was no delete key in person.

  I could do this, though. Just had to find an attractive man—okay, pick one of the many attractive men, and try to get on his radar. Approach him? Not likely. Establish eye contact from across the room and hope for the best? That I could do. Just had to—

  Oh.

  Dear.

  God.

  My jaw literally fell open, and my Liquid Courage very nearly slipped out of my hand.

  It was him. Again. And he was wearing a black blazer over jeans and a white T-shirt. Had this guy hacked into my computer and found all of my kinks or something? Because Jesus fucking Christ.

  Standing by the other bar, one hand holding a mostly empty glass while the other was casually in his pocket, he was scanning the room. He looked relaxed. Way more relaxed than I could ever be in an environment like this. Like he wasn’t at all nervous and didn’t think for a second that he’d have any trouble getting the attention of any man he wanted. Or was totally at ease with the idea of, if he didn’t see anything he liked, leaving alone. Completely confident he could have any man in the room, and not at all above leaving if he didn’t want any of them.

  Or something. I was probably reading way too much into him. All I knew was he radiated confidence, and I wanted him. Especially now that I knew he wasn’t straight. Or hell, maybe he was. A straight guy so secure he’d hang out at a gay mixer? Okay, probably not. If he was here, he was queer.

  My spine straightened as I realize there were some other guys stealing glances at him. And that he was checking out other guys.

  Competition.

  Except did it even count as competition? Did I stand a chance at turning his head in an empty room, never mind when he was already eyeballing that silver fox with the skintight shirt revealing a six-pack underneath? Or when there was a ridiculously hot olive-skinned guy watching my man—yeah right—over the top of his glass?

  Maybe I didn’t stand a chance. Maybe I did. But I wasn’t going to find out if I just stood over here like an idiot. And Dad had told me I should be more aggressive. Jump on opportunities instead of hoping those opportunities noticed me. Did that apply to men? And did the whole thing about going for jobs I wasn’t strictly qualified for count too? Did I really have anything to lose by approaching a man who was out of my league?

  I supposed I didn’t. Maybe a little dignity, but I couldn’t imagine I had much of that left after colliding with him the other day and tripping over my own feet this morning. It was worth a shot, wasn’t it? Because on this cruise and in this bar, I wasn’t some flailing loser who had no idea where his next paycheck would come from or where his life was going. I was a man who wanted another man, and there was no reason to assume that—if only for tonight—I had a shot with that man.

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I straightened my shirt, took a deep breath, and headed across the room.

  Chapter 5

  Eric

  I was halfway through an internal pep talk, persuading myself to approach that beautiful gray-haired man over by the stage, when I sensed someone approaching me.

  I turned.

  And instantly forgot about the dude by the stage.

  Because that was the guy. The one I’d literally run into.

  He was here. At the mixer. Which meant he was queer. And he was…walking…this…way…

  I stared at him, disbelieving. I wondered for a few seconds if he was just passing through, but he stopped. An arm’s length away from me, he stopped. By the grace of God, I managed to keep my cool—sort of—and say, “Uh, hi.”

  “Hi.” He cleared his throat, turning red from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “I was, um…” He gestured at my drink. “You looked like you could use a refill.”

  I glanced down at the glass in my hand. When I met his gaze again, I grinned. “Is that a subtle offer to buy me a drink?”

  “I don’t know how subtle it is,” he said with a self-conscious laugh. “But yeah.”

  I smiled. I had to admit, the shyness peppering his confident exterior relaxed me. It was cute as fuck, too. “Well, in that case.” I lifted my glass a little. “Whiskey sour.”

  He smiled too, and on top of the shyness was some relief. He seemed to be trying to hide it too, at least until he turned toward the bar and indulged in a little sigh and a roll of his shoulders before he flagged down the bartender. It was seriously adorable. Encouraging, too. I’d been off the market for a few years, and I was rusty at all this meeting and hookup shit. I had no idea how things worked anymore. But if the hottest guy in the room could be nervous and awkward, so could I.

  With our drinks in hand, he faced me, offering mine with a slightly more confident smile than before. “Whiskey sour.”

  “Thank you.” I paused as I took it from him, then extended my other hand. “I’m Eric.”

  He shook it. “Andrew.”

  “Where you from?” I brought the drink to my lips. At least being on a cruise gave us some conversation fodder; odds were good we didn’t live anywhere near each other, so our respective locales were a decent icebreaker.

  “Des Moines. Originally from Nebraska, but Iowa’s just…” He waved with his glass. “Still flat and full of cornfields.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, I drove across the Midwest once and thought I was going to lapse into a coma.”

  Andrew laughed and…oh. Wow. So that was what people meant when they said someone’s smile could light up a room. How everyone around us didn’t suddenly look our way, I had no idea. Or maybe they did. I wouldn’t have known because my attention was focused on him and nothing else. Fuck—as much as I’d been tripping over my own feet watching him from a distance, I was lucky I could still think when I was this close to him. Especially since I couldn’t get over the fact that he’d approached me. I hadn’t even seen him walk into the club. Hadn’t had so much as a second to realize he was there so I could pull myself together and be ready for him.

  He took a drink. “So, same question—where are you from?”

  “Seattle.” I absently thumbed the rim of my glass. “And no, it isn’t always raining.”

  Andrew laughed again, though the noise around us swallowed the sound. “Well, there goes everything I thought I knew about the city.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s all most people know about it besides the fact that our sports teams all used to suck.”

  “Eh, not that I ever paid attention to that part,” he said with a shrug.

  “You and me both. My ex was a rabid Seahawks fan, but I could never get into the game.”

  Andrew wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, my older brothers were both football players from the time they were kids until they got out of college. By the time I understood the game, I was too burned out on it to get into it.”

  “I can understand that. I got dragged to all of my brother and sister’s plays in junior high and high school, and to this day I’d rather eat garbage than go to a show.”

  “What?” He put a hand to his chest and gasped dramatically. “You don’t like…” He looked around, then dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “You’re in a room full of gay men, saying you aren’t into musical theater?”

  I snorted, bringing my glass to my lips. “I know, right? Scandalous.”

  Andrew snickered. “Eh, I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  We both laughed, but neither of us picked up the conversation. Silence fell, and I didn’t want to let it get too comfortable, so I cleared my throat. “Uh, did you go out on any of the excursions today?”

  He studied me like he wanted to mention that we both knew that I knew he’d gone out today, but he must’ve taken it for what it was—something to keep the conversation rolling while we felt each other up. Out. Felt each other out. Jesus, Eric…

  “Yeah,” he said. “It was nice. Hot as fuck, but it is summer in Spain.” He paused. “What about you?” And again—a silent understanding that, yeah, he knew I hadn’t gone out, but it was something to keep us talking while we found our footing.

  “Eh.” I shrugged. “I decided to have an easy day.”

  He smiled, nodding. “Vacations should be easy. I seriously thought about staying onboard today, but…” He gestured dismissively with his drink. “My parents paid for me to come on the cruise with them, so I didn’t want to blow them off.”

  “Seems reasonable.”

  “I, um…” He gulped, staring into his drink. “If I’d stayed onboard, it would’ve been kind of a…” Pulling in a breath, he looked right at me. “Last second decision.”

  An image flashed through my mind of him staring at me this morning on his way past the pool, and my mouth went dry. “Oh yeah?” It was a struggle to speak at all, never mind loud enough to be heard over the music. “Why…why’s that?”

  He made a not-at-all-subtle gesture of looking me up and down. “Thought the scenery on the ship was more interesting.”

  My skin tingled and warmed all over. “Is that right?”

  Andrew held my gaze even as some color crept into his cheeks. Faint creases formed on his forehead as if he were trying to hide how nervous he was. I thought I could literally feel his heart racing with anxiety. Or maybe that was mine.

  I put my drink down and moved a little closer to him. “Now that you mention it, the onboard scenery has been pretty”—I mirrored his down-up glance—“spectacular.”

  He gulped, shifting his weight. He started to speak, but then glanced around us, scowling. Turning back to me, he said, “It’s getting pretty loud in here.” He motioned toward the open doors leading out to the mostly empty deck. “You want to go out there?”

  “Yeah, sure.” But as soon as I’d said it, I balked. “Before we do though…”

  He cocked his head. “What’s wrong?”

  My heart did its familiar oh shit surge, and I swallowed hard. Then I steeled myself and met his gaze. “Look, we both know what this is.” I gestured with my glass at the crowd of men getting cozy. “I’m pretty sure you came here for the same reason I did. Right?”

  “To hook up?” He blushed as he said it, which was oh so endearing.

  “Yeah.”

  Silently, Andrew nodded.

  “Right. So.” I cleared my throat. “Just so we’re not wasting each other’s time—you ever been with a trans guy?”

  Andrew blinked. “I…no, I haven’t.” He didn’t sound disgusted, just caught a little off guard.

  “Okay, well…” I gestured at myself.

  Another blink. “Oh.”

  “And yes, I still have some of my factory equipment, and yes, I still like to use it. So if that’s a deal-breaker, speak now.”

  He held my gaze for a couple of long seconds before he shook his head. “No. No, it’s not a deal-breaker.” He coughed like he was trying to get his breath moving. “You might need to guide me a bit, but…” He gave me another slow down-up, and when he met my eyes, he grinned with what I could only describe as lustful shyness. “I’ll work with anything you’ve got.”

  My toes curled in my shoes as a tingle ran up my spine. Game on. Grinning, I pointed at the doors leading out to the deck. “Outside?”

  He looked the way I’d indicated as if he’d forgotten about his suggestion. After a second, he shook himself, smiled, and nodded. “Outside.”

  We worked our way through the thickening crowd and out onto the deck. The night was hot, but there was a cool enough breeze off the water to keep it comfortable. There were some tables out here, most of them unoccupied, and we took the last one.

  As he set his drink down, Andrew sighed, rolling his shoulders. “Oh my God. That’s so much better.” Jutting his chin toward the bar, he added, “I’m not used to loud places like that anymore.”

  “No?” I leaned against the railing and sipped my drink. “Not your scene?”