“Top three, huh? Who do I share the honor with?”
“James Patterson and Michael Connelly. He switches the order based on how he feels about the latest release.”
Holt chuckled. “Good to know.”
Mack spared Rafe a glance, likely wondering what their relationship was.
Itwasn’t. That was what it was.
Seeming to see through Rafe’s hard exterior, Mack smirked and looked back at Holt. “How long you stayin’?”
“Haven’t decided,” Holt told him, his gaze briefly swinging to Rafe. “I’ll be at the B and B for a few weeks. Figured this was a good place to start working on my next book.”
“A fewweeks?” Rafe bit out, hating himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
Holt’s eyes moved over him, and Rafe saw his amusement. He pretended not to notice, returning his attention to closing out the register for the night.
“Maybe I’ll get to meet your husband while I’m here,” Holt told Mack.
“He’s the sheriff, so there’s a good chance you’ll see him around.”
“The sheriff? That’s good to know. I always like to get the low-down of an area when I start to write. Maybe if I name-drop, he’ll give me a tour.”
Mack grinned, and Rafe shook his head. He rarely saw his boss excited about something, but apparently, meeting one of his husband’s favorite authors did it for him.
“I can take it from here,” Rafe told Mack. “You can go on home and tell Jeff the excitin’ news.” He emphasized the last two words with a dramatic eye roll.
“Don’t think I won’t. See you tomorrow.”
“Later.”
“Good night,” Holt told Mack as the man headed out the front door. “I think I’m gonna like it here.”
“No, you won’t,” Rafe countered, wiping down the bar once more. “Before you know it, you’ll be movin’ on to bigger and better things.”
“Like you did?”
There was obviously a glitch in his wiring because that was the only way to explain why those words gave him pause. Rafe pulled himself together quickly. “Not the same thing, and you know it.”
“Oh, I know something, all right,” Holt said, leaning toward him.
Rafe stood tall and tossed the rag onto the shelf below the bar. “Why are you here? Did you come all this way to give me shit? Because I don’t wanna hear it.”
“Well, that’s too damn bad because I’ve got some things to say.”
“The statute of limitations on your chance is long over,” Rafe snapped. “You shoulda said what you had to say before now.”
“Tough shit. You’re the one who walked away. Not me. You owe it to me to listen.”
“The hell I do.”
Rafe stormed toward the hallway that led to the storage room. He swung the door open and grabbed the broom. When he turned around, Holt was standing less than a foot away.
“You need to go back where you came from,” Rafe hissed, hating that his entire body was humming.
It did that. Whenever Holt got close to him, his body was no longer his own. There was something about the man that he connected with, although he didn’t fucking understand it. He might’ve been attracted to a couple of men over the years, but he’d never given in to those feelings. They’d never enticed him enough. Rafe had never believed you were either gay or straight. He’d always wondered why anyone thought there needed to be a delineation. Attraction was attraction. And it could happen to anyone at any time, regardless of gender.
But that was the thing. Attraction wasattraction. It wasn’t love, and at some point during the night at the beach, Rafe had crossed the line into thinking it might be.
