Bad Cruz(14)

She opened one of my file cabinets and dropped patients’ folders into it.

Trinity was a cute blonde with braided hair, a reserved wardrobe, and a few too many freckles. She was well-mannered, well-meaning, and well…boring. You couldn’t confuse her with her bombshell older sister, who gave some of Hollywood’s best a run for their money.

Trinity was almost homely in comparison. More than anything, Trinity looked like a cherub and Tennessee looked like something the devil had created to lure you into sin.

Unlike her sister, though, Nurse Turner didn’t possess the bedside manners of a wild boar, so I didn’t mind her working under me, even if she did take five hundred vacation days a year.

“Don’t ask.” A raspy chuckle escaped me.

“Okay. Let me ask you something else, then.” She turned to face me. Her hands parked over her waist, clad by the pale-blue nurse uniform. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Of course, sis.”

I smiled warmly. I also added the “sis” to ensure she understood none of the things I was willing to do included her.

Better be safe than sorry when you’re the town’s official hunk. Though, people kept mistaking me for Ryan Gosling in that movie where he dates a blow-up doll because he had a ’stache in it.

I contemplated getting rid of the mustache just because I kept suspecting people had a mental image of me dragging a sex doll around, but ultimately, I was attached to the fucker. Physically and spiritually.

“My sister Nessy needs a ride to the port tomorrow. Her car broke down and my parents are giving Wyatt and me a ride. Not to mention they’re taking Bear, too.”

Spending an hour in a confined space with Tennessee Turner?

Sign me up. Said no one. Ever.

But I was Mr. Perfect.

Saying no would make me a fraud.

Besides, I had to get over the throat-punching incident at some point. Tennessee and I were bound to spend countless Thanksgivings, Christmases, and baby christenings together in the future.

Better to Band-Aid it now than find myself getting nut-punched a few months down the line again.

“Sure. I’ll take her to the port tomorrow.”

“I mean, you’ll have to pick her up from Jerry & Sons. Is that okay?”

I unbuttoned my white lab coat, smiling good-naturedly. “Best milkshakes in town. It’d be my pleasure.”

“Will you help her with her bags, too? She doesn’t travel light.”

No shit.

Her hairspray and heels alone could probably sink the Elation.

“Honey, consider your sister my sister. I’ll help her with whatever she needs.”

Trinity squeaked, doing a weird thing with her hands, waving them quickly, like she was trying to take off and fly with them.

“Aww. Thank you so much! You’re such a star!” She was about to leave my office when she stopped by the door, biting down on her lips. “Oh, I just wanted you to know I’m so happy you’re with Gabriella. I think you two are super good for each other.”

Alarm bells rang in my head.

Gabriella still hadn’t told her friends we were over? Not telling everyone was one thing. Not telling her bestie?

I was going to set the record straight and ensure everyone knew I was a free agent.

…but first, I was going to survive this punishment of a cruise.





We were running late.

Actually, running wouldn’t be the best way to describe it.

We were crawling late.

My fault, naturally.

Cruz and I hit the afternoon traffic to Port Wilmington. His Audi was moving at a snail’s pace, stuck among a hundred more cars.

He’d been admiringly polite and silent the entire drive out of Fairhope, but by the throbbing vein in his temple, which was an interesting shade of pomegranate, I was pretty sure he was about to punch my tit.

“Remind me again,” he drawled, choking his steering wheel to death. “What held you up in Jerry & Sons for forty-five minutes while I loitered around the parking lot like a B-grade drug dealer?”

I’d stayed late because my new trainee waitress, Trixie, a single mother of two’s douchebag husband walked out on her for a younger model only three weeks ago.

She was having a mental breakdown—not entirely surprising seeing as it was her second shift and she’d never worked in her life—and I had to take over until her tables had been served.

Of course, I wasn’t going to out her story or explain myself to this haughty prick.

I owed him nothing.

“Already told you.” I popped the passenger’s sun visor down, sliding the mirror open to line my Cupid’s bow again, a nice shade of rose. “I had to choose the best lipstick color to go with my outfit.”

“You’re wearing your waitress uniform.”

“Exactly. Did you know there are over a thousand shades of pink?”

“Did you know,” he retorted, “the Elation boards in fifteen minutes and we are going to miss the cruise?”

“Nonsense.” I waved a dismissive hand at him. The secret was in the faux confidence. “We’ll make it in time, and it’ll be wonderful.”

“Those things are mutually exclusive. If you’re there, it will not be wonderful.”

“Ouch,” I said, extra flatly, for emphasis that I couldn’t care less. “Can’t we all just get along?”