They ordered dinner, herb-seared chicken breast for Teague and grilled fillet mignon for Hoyt. As they ate, Hoyt surreptitiously studied Teague. The man had a commonsense demeanor despite his obsession about catching the serial killer. He was also not bad looking, in Hoyt’s opinion. Blond hair, perhaps a bit too long, a trace of a beard and mustache as if he hadn’t shaved recently, and a nice smile—like he means it when he does. And why am I looking at him like he’s more than just a man on the hunt for a killer? If…when we find the bastard, Teague will head right back to where he came from without a backwards glance. Hoyt chuckled softly. Am I that hard up that I’m allowing my thoughts to even go in that direction? Yeah, maybe. Still, he must think I’m straight since he asked me about Kell
