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he go in with Scotty and not try to hide anything. But even before Preston turned back to face him, relief so obvious on his handsome face, Scotty knew that wasn't going to happen. He'd known as soon as he'd offered.
    "Okay, that's cool," Preston agreed. He twisted in the seat and reached for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. "Let me give you some money."
    Scotty waved it away. "Forget it. I'll get the room."
    "Why should you pay for it all?"
    "Because it was my idea. I'll be right back," Scotty said, quickly getting out of the car before Preston could argue. He was already feeling less happy about the trip, he didn't want an argument to spoil it further.
    Scotty told himself he should just be happy Preston had agreed to come at all. It wasn't like the stuffed shirt to skip work and certainly not for something as frivolous as a weekend away. He very much suspected Preston's standoffish ways and work ethic hadn't help his marriage.
    He smiled as the breeze hit his face. God, he loved this place.
    Some day.
    He opened the office door and was greeted instantly by a fresh-faced young woman of probably no more than twenty-two. She stared at him with a definite predatory glint in her eyes.
    Smiling warmly, she said, "Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you today?"
    "The sign out front says you have a vacancy. Have you got any king-bed rooms with an ocean view?"
    "Let me check for you, sir." She punched a keyboard, and then coyly glanced at him. "How long do you and your wife plan to stay?"
    "I'm not married, but for two nights, I think."
    "Oh." She smiled. "We do have a room for you."
    Scotty handed over his credit card.
    "Scott Trask," she read aloud. "Are you here for pleasure, Mr. Trask?"
    "Hope so." He glanced back through the glass door toward his car. He could just make out Preston.
    She handed him a brochure with a red circle around a room number. "This is the room, second floor, just go down this way." She showed him on the motel map, and then slid him a plastic keycard. "Here's a key."
    "I'll need two, thanks."
    "Oh." She frowned a little and then keyed him another card. "There you are, then. We have continental breakfast in the lobby here at seven and wine and cheese in the evenings from four to six."
    "Great, thanks." He checked her name badge. "Kimberly."
    Her smiled widened. "If there's anything you need, Mr. Trask, just let me know."
    "I'll do that."
    He stopped to pick up a few leaflets of local attractions and then headed back to the car.
    "All set?" Preston asked when he got in to start the car to drive closer to their room.
    "Yep. Let's get settled in and then we can do some walking around the embarcadero."

    * * * *
    Scotty had to admit the day was going better than he'd hoped. They were having a great time. Well, he was and, judging by his smiles, so was Preston.
    They'd had a lunch of fish and chips and beer. Then they'd been cruising the shops on the embarcadero ever since. The afternoon was gloriously sunny, but not too warm. A day like this was exactly why he planned on living in Morro Bay some day.
    "So, how often do you come here?" Preston asked as they exited a shop of colorful kites and flags.
    "It's been a while, actually. But before I left for New York I used to come pretty often. Three or four times a year."
    Preston glanced up at the sky, his expression nonchalant. "With somebody?"
    Scotty smiled a little. "Once with a guy, yeah. And twice with a female friend. But most of the time just me. I love it here."
    Preston grinned. "I can tell. You're very enthusiastic."
    He felt his cheeks heat a little and knew he was blushing. But, damn, he could be a geek. And he hated that about himself.
    Covering his embarrassment, Scotty headed into the next gift shop. It was filled with statues of whales and dolphins and even a few paintings of sea life. At the back of the shop stood a very tall, thin dark haired woman talking with a couple. He guessed her to be the proprietor.
    He walked over to a painting