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not taking him home . She’s taking him to her bed-and-breakfast. You know, the business she runs,” she teased. “He’s passing through town and needed a place to stay.”
    Rush had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed by his assumption.
    “Robert James Coeman, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous.”
    Rush growled. No one called him by his real name, no one other than his mother. At least not since he left town all those years ago. He earned the nickname when he started college, and it stuck. Since then, Rush was all anyone called him. “Not jealous,” he insisted.
    “Didn’t think so.” Cherie winked and slid the check onto the corner of the table. “Whenever you gentlemen are ready.”
     
     
    “WHERE’S MY buddy?” Rush gushed as he walked through the door to a happy dog. He loved coming home to Casper. He never felt better than when he saw himself through the eyes of his dog. Unconditional love at its best.
    He crouched down on the ground, ruffling Casper’s thick fur and roughhousing with him. The dog barked, jumping around, bucking his back legs out with excitement. Rush rolled onto his back, letting him jump back and forth over his belly. It was one of Casper’s favorite games and Rush’s too, if he was honest. He enjoyed the easy happiness that came from spending time with his dog.
    When Casper became tired of their game, he flopped over onto his back and let Rush scratch his belly.
    “All right, bud. Let’s get you a treat.” At the word treat , Casper’s ears perked up, his energy miraculously restored as he bounded toward the kitchen, where Rush kept the Milk-Bones. The dog nosed at the cupboard where they were kept. Rush knew he was able to get into it on his own, but he waited patiently on the mat near the sink for Rush to grab a couple and toss them toward him. He was a good dog.
    When Casper had made doubly sure he’d licked up all the crumbs—real and imaginary—that might have tumbled onto the floor, he and Rush retired to the living room, where Rush fell back onto the couch, one leg hanging off, and grabbed the remote. Casper jumped up next to him, curling against his thigh. Rush flicked through the channels, looking for something that would hold his attention. He settled on a true crime show, watching the shoddy reenactments and trying not to roll his eyes at the subpar acting.
    His mind wandered first to Sebastian, who seemed… off. He was usually happy—at least happier than he seemed that night. Rush made a mental note to meet up with him the next day and grill him for answers if he had to. It wasn’t like him to be sullen.
    From there his mind wandered back to the man he saw at the pub. It bothered Rush that he was still on his mind. He had been since he set eyes on him hours earlier. Every few minutes he mentally retraced the lines of the man’s muscles, visible as the soft fabric of his shirt moved against his body. It was quite the body. Rush could tell that much from looking at him. Clearly the man kept in shape, but he looked like the type to keep his physique at the hands of an overpaid personal trainer. Still, whoever that trainer was, he did good work.
    Rush exhaled sharply. The problem would take care of itself come morning. The guy was leaving, and Rush would never have to see him again.

Chapter Five
     
     
    “WHICH ONE is yours?” she asked.
    West pointed to his car, the sleek black paint job gleaming under the streetlights. The sun had set while he was inside, and the cool mountain air descended, settling in the valley. Suddenly curling up in a comfortable bed seemed worlds more desirable than driving three more hours to the ocean. It would still be there in the morning.
    “Swanky,” she sang as she sidled around the passenger’s side and waited for West to unlock it. They got in, and she directed him back out onto the main road and east, toward Churchill Street.
    “Where are you from?” she asked, unwrapping a mint and