He drove nearly the length of the main street before he spotted the bar. The gigantic eight ball wasn’t lit, but there were lights on within the building.

“This must be the place. Jeep pulled into the parking lot, then stopped. He grabbed his wallet, phone and notebook. He refused to be anywhere without a paper and pen.

The bell dinged as he headed into the bar. Two men stood behind the counter.

“Sorry, buddy,” the black-haired man said. “We’re closed.”

The taller man shrugged. “Bobby, lock the main door. We can go out the back when we’re done. One patron won’t hurt anything, but I don’t want a group coming in.” The man turned his attention to Jeep. “What’ll you have?”

“Uh—” He’d always known what to say in every situation, but not now. Looking at the brown-haired man twisted Jeep’s tongue. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Which one of you has a place for me to stay?” Holy shit. What an unintentional come-on!

Both men froze. Jeep knew exactly what he’d said and wished he could’ve taken it back. He scratched his forehead. Shit. He needed to unlearn that bad habit. Still, the nervous gesture gave him time to think.

“I meant, I’m new in town and need a place to rent for the next few nights. My publisher, Nelson Vickers, told me someone here has a place for me to stay. I need it while I’m writing.”

“You must be looking for Sam,” the black-haired man said. “He’s got half a duplex.”

“Yeah.” Jeep nodded. “Him. Which one of you are him?” Hopefully the taller guy was the man he needed to see. He wouldn’t mind spending some quiet time with the handsome man.

“Neither. This is Bobby and my name is Raygan. Sam, the one you’re looking for, works at the community center. It’s closed now, but I’d be willing to bet he’ll help you in the morning.” Raygan placed a coaster on the bar top. “Want a beer?”