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Zorro had completely disarmed her. The sound of his voice had stopped her dead in her tracks. That was a man who wasn’t just giving lip service to building something between them. That was her alpha. Her warrior. Her healer. Her beloved.

She needed caffeine. Immediately.

Her body felt…used. In the best way. A warm ache still lingered between her thighs, her skin still prickled where Zorro’s hands had mapped her, and her mouth, her mouth still remembered his name in a way that felt holy.

She wasn’t herself today.

Or maybe, she was .

Just not the woman she used to be.

Once she had been all edges and ice, wrapped in sterile routines and weaponized detachment. She didn’t let people in. She certainly didn’t wake up yearning to touch someone again, to hear his voice, to feel seen .

Now, all she wanted was for the day to end so she could have that sweet, sensual date with him, and crawl into bed beside the man who had demolished her with steady strength, quiet dominance, and that goddamned smirk.

Seducing her with tears and laughter and confessions that felt like a weight being lifted all over again.

The guilt she'd buried as recently as this morning was being systematically eradicated by a man who knew exactly how to kill her demons.

This man. Her disaster. Her miracle.

She sighed and stepped into line at the café kiosk, rubbing one temple as the scent of espresso and desperation filled the air.

There was a woman near the front, tall and sun-warmed, with a slow, easy smile and wild curls swept back in a knot. She was handing out tiny cups of something dark and fragrant.

“Sample?” she asked, offering one to Everly.

Everly blinked. Took the cup.

Lifted it to her lips.

Oh. Oh, God.

The flavor hit like silk and smoke, rich and impossibly smooth, with a hint of spice at the back of her tongue.

She closed her eyes. “What…is this coffee alchemy…this witchcraft of flavor?”

The woman smiled wider, her eyes brightening with pride.

“Try this. My specialty roast, Costa Rican Oro . It’s inspired by my family plantation in Costa Rica, La Buena Tierra Plantación .

” Everly took another sip, translating the name into English, the Good Earth.

“I roast it myself, adding hints of dark chocolate and spice. My husband swears it’s too strong, but he drinks it anyway and pretends he’s not hopelessly addicted. ”

She set down the steaming mug, the rich mocha notes mingling enticingly with the smooth, deep aroma that filled the air.

“Our family’s been producing coffee since 1808.

Maybe you’ve heard of our brand, the Golden Grain.

We have several cafés all over the world, with several in San Diego, but my heart is still back home in the roasting shed, wood, stone, and the magic of turning raw beans into perfection. ”

She smiled again, warmly now, full of quiet confidence. “Maritza, owner’s daughter, head roaster, and manager. Welcome to the Golden Grain experience.”

Everly laughed. “I can see why your husband is addicted. Can I get this online?”

“I know, right? He’s stubborn and I love it.” She nodded. “You can so get it online. Just go to our website.” She handed her a card.

Everly took it, her brain still processing the sorcery in her cup. “I might actually love you.”

“Well, that’s fast,” Maritza teased. “But I’ll allow it. Come sit with us. We’ve claimed that table like apex predators.”

Everly followed her, amused, grateful, wondering who us was.

A blonde woman looked up as they approached, ethereal in a soft white dress, her presence quiet but piercing, like the kind of person who wrote poetry in her head and remembered people by the sound of their laughter. “Collected another weary conference-goer, Zazu?”

“Zazu?” Everly smiled at the cute nickname.

“That’s my nickname. Sounds like a stripper. Am I right?” Everly, completely charmed by both women, chuckled. “My little sister coined it and it stuck.” She inclined her head toward the blonde. “Everly, this is Julia. Julia, meet Everly.”

“Hi,” Julia said with a smile that made Everly relax without meaning to. “You looked like you needed a moment of peace and strong coffee.”

“I need many of those moments,” Everly replied, sliding into the chair beside them. “It’s been a…long day.”

Maritza arched a brow. “Was it the panel or the night before?”

Everly startled slightly, then gave a helpless, traitorous smile. “Both. I’m dealing with a stubborn man, too.”

Julia grinned behind her cup, rolling her eyes. “Ah. One of those nights, one of those men. We need a club.”

Everly felt herself flush, but it wasn’t embarrassing. Not really. It was…wonder.

How had this happened?

This transformation from brittle, bitter loneliness into something warm and grounded? She had kept Zorro at arm’s length for too long. Denied herself softness. Labeled love a liability.

Now she sat at a sunlit table, sipping a miracle roast, smiling with two women she barely knew but felt oddly…safe with, a sisterhood closing around her like a net made of steel and silk.

Julia wrapped her hands comfortably around a steaming cup.

After an hour, the little café table had transformed into something intimate and warm, an unexpected oasis of female companionship amid the chaos of the conference.

Everly rested against the back of her chair, surprised by how comfortable the silence felt.

At first it was just conversation. Casual. Easy laughter. Good coffee and shared smiles.

Then, softly, Julia spoke, setting down her cup gently. “You know, I used to be a nun. Before I married my husband.”

Everly’s gaze snapped up, eyes widening in surprise. “You…really?” Why did that sound so…familiar?

Julia smiled, her gaze warm and steady. “I ducked into the order because I wanted to be safe, not realizing that the man who had been my rock was all that I needed. God hadn’t called me, but he saw me, and he released me to find my heart.

” Her smile widened, gentle humor coloring her voice.

“Sometimes I think God has a unique sense of humor. At least, He did with me.”

Everly felt the pricks at the back of her eyes. “He forgave you?”

“God or my man?” Julia said with a soft laugh.

“Just teasing.” Julia’s smile didn’t falter.

Her expression held no judgment, only a quiet compassion that resonated deeply.

“Yes, he did, but not without turmoil and angst. It was difficult to open my heart, accept what I’d done.

Love isn’t always easy. But forgiveness isn’t saying it didn’t hurt, Everly.

Forgiveness means you’re done pretending it still defines you. ”

Everly felt something deep inside her resonate, a subtle but undeniable shift in the protective walls she’d carefully built.

Maritza leaned forward, dark eyes sparkling with mischief, warmth, and a quiet pride.

“Well, my man was an absolute mess. Real cocky, real fine. Thought there were too many obstacles to overcome and wasn’t honest about who he was before we fell in love.

That was infuriating, but understandable under the circumstances.

” She lifted her cup in a small salute, smiling knowingly.

“So we fought, we meshed, and then I made him beg. That, amiga , is called equilibrium.”

Laughter bubbled up around the table, rich and comforting. Everly felt a soft ache bloom beneath her ribs, sweet and sharp all at once.

Then gently, without pressure, Julia turned to her. “What about you, Everly? What’s your love story?”

She stumbled. Faltered. Her heart felt suddenly exposed, her mind grasping for words that wouldn’t come. “I…I don’t know what to say. It’s complicated.”

“Complicated can be good. It’s tangled and real,” Julia said.

Maritza leaned in slightly, her voice gentle and knowing. “I let him see me.” She looked at Julia who nodded. “I hope you let him love you out loud, querida. Life is far too short for whispered promises.”

Everly swallowed hard, her eyes stinging with unexpected tears. Their words had pierced straight through her guarded heart. She felt suddenly transparent, vulnerable, and profoundly grateful.

“God, I’m starved. What do you say we get some lunch?”

She’d thought she was alone in her grief and her guilt, alone in her carefully managed wounds.

But these women, these quiet warriors, carried love like lanterns through the same dark she walked.

Their stories, their strength, were proof that joy and pain could coexist, that healing was complicated but real.

Everly drew a long, quiet breath. “That sounds fantastic, wanting to spend more time with them, something in her finally, gently shifting into place.”

Suddenly, it wasn’t so hard to imagine her own path forward.

Bailee Thunderhawk stood in the back corner of the command suite, arms crossed, gaze sweeping the bank of monitors like she owned the air between them.

For the moment, she did. This room hummed on her frequencies, satellite uplinks, encrypted pings, footage cycling from elevators, stairwells, the lower lobby, the rooftop pool. It was all hers to read.

None of it steadied her.

She could still feel him.

Dakota “Bear” Locklear. She almost bowed out of the assignment but realized that avoiding him didn’t really help.

Seduction carved into silence. Muscle wrapped in stillness. That tall, unshakable wall of a man with beads now braided into his dark, glossy hair, with a voice like mountain shadow. He hadn’t said much when he suggested dinner, just that quiet, grounded cadence.

Bear wasn’t a flirt, but she bet he’d be a devastating one if he ever allowed himself the leeway.

He’d simply looked at her and said, “Dinner one night?”