Chapter Fifteen
Kieran had no right to feel so rattled after seeing Finley at lunch with another guy.
The gossip around the ranch was that Finley had left shortly after dinner each night and hadn’t returned for a few hours.
Kieran thought he was scouring pawn shops and thrift stores to find his camera equipment, but maybe he’d been meeting that guy. Were they on a date at the diner?
In the same span of time that Finley had found a potential replacement, Kieran had lived two existences.
The first half of the week, Kieran had locked himself down so tightly that he blocked out all emotions, leaving no space for sorrow, anger, regret, pining, or lust. It was like he’d been sent right back to jail.
He had work, and he had Little Mama, who must’ve sensed his agitation or was getting closer to having her kittens.
She’d been extra cuddly and had soothed him with her purring, providing comfort he wanted to refuse but couldn’t.
Maybe it was her affection that had cracked his facade enough midweek to let the pining and regret drip into his psyche.
Kieran spent those evenings sketching scenes from his memory.
His fingers were clumsy and out of practice at first, so he warmed up with landscape renderings.
Who cared if some of them were a little more abstract than he’d intended.
Certainly not Little Mama, who curled up in his lap and purred until Kieran found the courage to draw the subject that called to him most. He’d closed his eyes, recalled all the special moments he’d shared with Finley, and recreated them with a charcoal pencil.
When he finished each sketch, Kieran slapped a bandage on his leaking defenses, and reminded himself that Finley was better off without him.
Thinking it was one thing, but actually seeing it was another.
Finley laughing with the handsome stranger punched a hole in his dam, and everything he’d suppressed flooded into his mind.
Kieran felt the heat they’d shared in the motel, the happiness and sense of rightness Finley evoked.
The sharp longing was a knife to the heart, but he kept moving forward.
Shame for letting Finley down moved in next, followed by humiliation for hurting Finley when he’d only wanted to punish himself.
As strong as those emotions were, they paled in comparison to the jealousy coursing through his blood.
Finley belonged with him, not that slicked-back, toothy fucker in the diner.
“Wait up,” Rueben called out.
Christ, he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. Kieran slowed so Rue could catch up. “Sorry about that.”
“The scene back there isn’t what you think it is,” Rue said, sounding a little winded.
“Doesn’t matter.” Then he stopped and whirled to face Rueben. “But why do you think that?”
“Finley stares at you the way I stare at the last piece of German chocolate cake.”
Kieran waved the remark away, but it burrowed into his brain like a beetle.
He had just witnessed Rueben lusting after the dessert the previous night, so he had a visual reference.
Did Finley look at him like he wanted to devour him?
He gagged his inner cynic so he could attempt objectivity when he replayed their encounters.
God yes, Finley looked at him like he was cherry crisp.
A lightness he definitely had no right to feel entered the fray, picked up a sword, and prepared to battle.
Joy, you fickle bitch, what are you doing here?
Then he realized the feeling wasn’t as foreign to him as it should’ve been.
Kieran had grown too complacent and had allowed himself to get caught up in the spirit of community on the ranch.
Attachments were formed, bonds were made, and he’d nearly let himself fall in lo—
“I gotta get out of here,” Kieran said desperately.
“I’m ready to go back to the ranch too.” Rue had misunderstood his sense of urgency and Kieran didn’t correct him. Instead, he started to plan. Normally, he’d wait until the poker game started, but he had a feeling Finley would want to talk to him when he got back.
Cash was in Denver until Sunday night again, Ivan wouldn’t return from Colorado Springs until after dinner, and Harry was excited about her mani-pedi and another girls’ night with her friends.
She’d told everyone at breakfast they had to fend for themselves, so he presumed she would be gone.
Tyler and Owen were delivering Big Stanley, a gorgeous chestnut stallion, to his forever home, and Kieran rarely ran into the other guys unless it was mealtime, so he only needed to worry about Rueben.
If he was distracted, Kieran would be clear to search Cash’s office for answers.
As if fate had intervened, Rueben’s phone rang when they were a mile or two away from the ranch.
Kieran had learned enough Spanish in jail to determine Rue was talking to his grandmother.
Rueben’s rapid cadence made it hard for him to follow, but he definitely heard Rue’s promise to call her back in ten minutes.
“There goes the rest of my afternoon,” Rue said once he disconnected.
“Maybe wait a while to call her back. Kick back and watch some TV.”
Rue chuckled as he turned onto the ranch’s long driveway. “No way, man. You don’t keep my abuela waiting. She acts like she is going to die any minute and what she has to say is too important to take to the grave. I told her I’d call her back in ten minutes, so I’d better make it eight.”
Kieran planned to hang out in his cabin long enough for Rueben to become engrossed in his conversation. Then he’d return his borrowed book to Cash’s library and search his office next door. Little Mama didn’t greet him when he stepped inside, nor did he see her on the furniture.
“Little Mama,” he called out in alarm. A weak meow greeted him from the bathroom and he found her lying in the shower.
She’d already given birth to one kitten and its placenta and had managed to break the sac open on its tiny body.
Her stomach contracted, and she panted softly, making him think the next kitten’s arrival was imminent.
Finley had a lot of experience with cats in Tennessee, and prior to the disaster at Dexter’s, he had given Kieran pointers on what to look for and how to help.
“You’re doing great, Little Mama,” he whispered as he rubbed behind her ears.
Kieran grabbed a washcloth, wetted it in the sink, and then made sure the first kitten had a clean airway.
He talked soothingly to the cat while she delivered kitty number two.
She immediately started licking her baby to break the sac open, and Kieran stayed out of her way until her struggle became obvious.
“Let me help,” he cooed, taking over caring for the newest addition.
Kieran continued the process until all five kittens had arrived safely.
They looked like little alien bodies as they sought their mama.
She had two black kittens, two calicos, and one solid orange.
Kieran retrieved a box from the barn and made a soft nest with an extra bath towel.
He helped Little Mama get cleaned up and moved her and the babies to the box.
The sight of them together as a family made him tear up.
Finley had told him that nature kicks in and the kittens would seek nourishment.
He just made sure they didn’t have far to go before latching on.
He checked the clock and saw that forty-five minutes had passed.
If he wanted to search Cash’s office, it was now or never.
Kieran forced himself to walk at his normal pace to the ranch house, but he made a beeline for the office once he was safely inside and returned the book.
Patsy didn’t bark or come running, so she was either in the kennel training with the other dogs or Cash had taken her to Denver with him.
He found the office door unlocked. Kieran wasn’t sure if it was because Cash was too trusting or because he didn’t keep incriminating evidence in his house.
Kieran closed the door behind him and headed straight for the massive wood desk.
He started with the large bottom drawer on the right, where there were dozens of hanging files suspended from a rack.
Kieran rifled through them, noting they were all ranch related.
He stopped on the one marked Brewery and Winery.
Cash had written Hooch and Honey with a different pen, so he really had been serious about using the name.
Kieran pulled out the file and found a note Cash had written on top.
It was a reminder to pay Kieran for naming rights and to call his lawyer to make everything legal.
Guilt stirred in his conscience. Cash intended to keep his word even when he didn’t have to.
Who would believe Kieran’s claim? He shoved the file back into its place and kept thumbing through the stash.
He barely resisted yelling “Aha!” when he found a folder with his name on it.
The file wasn’t the smoking gun Kieran expected it to be.
Inside were the typical tax documents employers had for their employees and Cash’s evaluation of Kieran from Arrowhead and why he thought he’d be a good fit for the ranch.
Kieran Sullivan reminds me so much of myself when I was in jail.
He thinks it’s him versus the world and has a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas.
I suspect his grievances are justified, and I’d really like to help him learn there is a better future for him.
He’s incredible with the animals, even if he’s not confident around them yet.
Kieran wanted to believe Cash meant what he’d said, but he couldn’t allow the kind words to sway him.
He finished rifling through the files, then searched the other drawers, but he came up empty.
He’d found nothing remotely incriminating in the desk and the computer was password protected.
Kieran blew out a frustrated breath and turned his attention to the credenza, where he found more useless files and office supplies.
He looked around the room for anything that could hide a safe, and Kieran’s eyes landed on a closet.
He crossed the room and opened the door.
A row of shirts and jackets hung from a rack, and a collection of hats rested on the shelf above them.
He’d accepted his search had yielded nothing until he realized the clothing could hide a safe.
He shoved his hands in the middle between a corduroy jacket and a black dress shirt and pushed the clothing to create a gap in the center.
The clothes didn’t hide a safe, but there were rows of shelves.
And on the center sat an army-green duffle bag with PFC Finnigan Donovan emblazoned across it.
There was the proof that Cash was up to no good.
But how had he gotten his hands on the bag?
Had he followed them? Used a tracking device to locate them while they’d been fucking in the hotel?
Had Kieran’s presence on the ranch been part of a bigger plan?
Had he played right into their hands? His chest tightened and trapped the air in his lungs.
He was back in his cell the first night, suffocating on panic.
The vibrant colors around him started to dull and turn gray.
Kieran braced one hand on the doorjamb and the other on his throat.
His pulse fluttered beneath his thumb, a reminder that he was still alive.
He could breathe. Nothing was restricting his airway but his own brain.
He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, pulling it as deep as it would go.
The next breath came easier, and the one after that was better still.
Each inhale expanded his lungs and loosened the panic.
Each exhale cast the anxiety out like exorcised demons.
Excited barking came from inside the house, followed by toenails clicking on the hardwood floors.
Fuck. Patsy was in the house, and she’d picked up on his scent.
Even worse, Patsy wasn’t alone. Heavy footsteps joined her clicking toenails, and the sounds grew closer as they drew near.
There was only one way in and out of the office because the big windows behind the desk were decorative etched glass that didn’t open.
His only choice was to duck into the closet and hope whoever was with Patsy wouldn’t think to look in Cash’s office.
How would Kieran explain his presence in the office to Cash or anyone else?
He pushed the clothes back into place as quietly as he could and pressed his back against the shelves.
His legs and shoes would be visible to anyone who opened the door, and he felt ridiculous.
His heart pounded in his chest as Patsy barked loudly outside the office door until it swung open.
Patsy headed straight for the closet, barking louder than ever before.
“What is it, girl?” Finley asked.
Kieran swallowed a groan. Damn it! Anyone but him. Patsy barked louder, and he could tell by the clicking that she was prancing or turning in circles.
“No way,” Finley said. “I’ve seen this in movies.
I’m not opening the closet door.” Patsy persisted and Finley sighed.
“I better live to regret this.” The closet door swung open and Kieran knew by his startled gasp that Finley saw his denim-clad legs and boots sticking out from beneath the clothes.
Patsy barked excitedly as if it were a game and she’d found the treasure.
Her barking must’ve clued Finley in that the man in the closet wasn’t a threat, or maybe he recognized the legs and boots because Finley jerked the hanging clothes aside and glared at him.
Kieran held his hands up in the air. “It’s not what it looks like.”
Finley narrowed his green eyes. “Funny, that was going to be my line about the lunch you witnessed. Now that I’ve found you hiding in Cash’s office closet, I’m changing my comment to what the actual fuck?”
“I can explain.”
Finley crossed his arms over his chest. “Then do it now.”