David bumped into him. “What—oh. Yeah. He’s cute and your type.”
Cute wasn’t the word. Cute was for puppies and cupcakes. This guy was… glowing. Like someone had taken joy and turned it into a person.
Maurice tried to look away. Failed.
The guy glanced up—and their eyes met.
Just a second. Maybe two. The young man’s smile softened, turned curious, warm. Like he was seeing Maurice, not just looking at him.
Maurice’s air stalled in his lungs, leaving him weirdly lightheaded.
David whispered, “You should talk to him.”
“I literally forgot how to walk just now,” Maurice muttered. “Talking feels ambitious.”
But the guy—God, he was still looking. Still smiling. And then he lifted his drink slightly, a tiny, casual gesture as if it were an invitation.
Maurice swallowed. “Okay. Maybe I’ll… try.”
David clapped him on the back. “Atta boy.”
“I think I will,” Maurice said.
“I’m going to mingle,” David said, separating from Maurice.
Maurice started toward the guy, weaving through the crowd, but another man slid neatly into his path.
“Welcome aboard,” the guy said, offering a hand. “I’m Caleb.”
Maurice forced a polite smile. “Thanks. Maurice.”
“You missed the excitement,” Caleb said, leaning in like he was sharing gossip.
“Already?”
Caleb jerked his chin toward the blond. “See the blond?”
Maurice’s gaze found Finn instantly. “I see him.”
“He almost got kicked off the train.”
Maurice blinked. “What did he do?”
“Danced naked on top of a table with five thugs who snuck onboard.” Caleb shrugged as if this was normal Tuesday behavior. “Mr. Santos was pissed, but he didn’t throw him off. He tossed the guys instead. Probably not even gay. Definitely didn’t have tickets.”
“Poor security,” Maurice muttered. His lawyer’s brain immediately supplied negligence, liability, and breach of duty. He shut it down. Stop. You’re not working.
“No idea how they got in,” Caleb said, eyes dragging over Maurice in a way that made him want to adjust his shirt.
“Do you know that blond?” Maurice asked.
“That’s Finn Andersen from Boston. Professional flirt. Everyone calls him Rainbow Flirt. Look at him—he’s relentless.”
“Nice meeting you, Caleb,” Maurice said, already scanning the room again.
More men crowded the bar now, and Finn wasn’t visible from where he stood. Maurice threaded his way through the Welcome Car, careful not to shove, but determined. When he reached the bar, Finn was nowhere in sight.
He ordered a margarita. “Hey,” he said to the bartender, “you know where Finn—the blond you were talking to—went?”
