The Keeper (Redemption Ridge #5)

Chapter Three

What was one supposed to do when their weekly yoga session didn’t restore a peaceful balance to their nervous system? Rueben’s body felt amazing—limber and strong—but his encounter with Seth the previous evening had really put him through the wringer. First and foremost on his mind had been finding relief from the sexual tension gripping his body, which he rectified embarrassingly fast when he got home. Once the post-climax haze cleared from his brain, Rueben thought about the other pieces of their conversation. He hadn’t lingered on the part where they’d each thought the other had moved on so easily. When the truth came to light, Seth’s tone and words struck notes of conciliation and concession, but the heat in his gaze was pure jealousy and yearning. Rueben was sure Seth noticed a similar possessiveness in his words and gestures. They’d quickly cleared up their misunderstanding, but it had led to a conversation that sucker punched Rueben. There were many, many things he wanted to share in common with Seth, but losing loved ones to violent deaths and never getting justice for them was not one of them.

Rueben had been ten years old when he lost his mom and sister to stray bullets from rival gangs in Los Angeles, who’d opened fire on one another without an ounce of concern for the innocent people around them. Rosa Sanchez had been a hardworking single mom who juggled three jobs to make sure her kids had the best life she could give them. His abuela helped out a lot, but his mama never stopped moving so she could fulfill her children’s dreams. The days leading up to their deaths were still so vivid in his mind, like movie scenes frozen in time. Rueben had developed a passion for baseball, and his younger sister was obsessed with ballet. Mama had signed Rueben up for his first baseball team and enrolled Liliana in a dance class for her seventh birthday. She wore her pink leotard and tutu every day for a week leading up to her first lesson, spinning around the house like a tiny Tasmanian devil. Mama and Lili were killed on their way to her first ballet class. Rueben had been so angry about many things, but Lili missing the opportunity to dance with her instructor had cut him to the bone. Abuela had told him Lili danced in heaven with the best instructors and a bigger audience, but it didn’t console Rueben the way she’d hoped. He’d become an unruly, angry teenager who made one bad decision after another. Oddly, Rueben didn’t learn how to manage his emotions until he landed in jail with a cellmate who’d discovered Buddhism. Rueben learned the basics of the practice from him, then expanded on the teachings with Hope after moving to Redemption Ridge. Meditation and yoga usually worked wonders for him, but his heart felt as heavy as a brick, and his frazzled nerves left him edgy.

“Rue?” Keegan’s questioning tone betrayed his concern.

He forced himself to meet those familiar hazel eyes. “Hmmm?”

“I asked if you wanted to grab lunch at the diner or maybe head over to Colorado Springs to try something different.”

Rueben loved the diner, but it would be hard to get a table at the height of tourist season. He looked across the street, and his gaze landed on the salon a few doors down from the restaurant. Rueben recalled the conversation they’d had the previous day about highlights and boy bands, and he met Keegan’s gaze once more with a smile. “Let’s swing by the salon first. They’re probably booked solid today, but I can schedule an appointment for my hair transformation.”

Keegan ran a hand through his shaggy blond bangs. His hair had grown out so much from the buzz cut he’d received at the cult’s compound. “Let’s do it. I could use a makeover too.”

Rueben hooked his arm through Keegan’s, and they headed across the street to the salon. Cool air kissed his cheeks when they entered the business, and he sighed happily. A strong floral scent tickled his nose, and he inspected his surroundings. Fresh-cut flowers in glass vases and baskets of mixed arrangements filled the reception area, and not the usual amount one would use to class up a joint. Most of the vases and baskets included those clear cardholders with a florist’s card, but some had a homier feel and were presented in more rustic vessels. Was it someone’s birthday?

“Can I help you?” The young woman behind the reception counter had fuchsia hair and gray eyes almost as pretty as Seth’s.

Rueben smiled and walked toward her with Keegan in tow. “We would like to schedule hair transformations, please.”

“Oh, that sounds fun.” She jiggled her computer mouse and looked at the screen. “Have you been to our salon before?”

Reuben’s normal haunt was the barbershop on the other side of town, and Keegan hadn’t let anyone near him with scissors or a razor since escaping hell. It might’ve seemed like an odd time and place for his hashtag-team-Keegan pride to resurge, but the swelling emotion temporarily stole his voice.

“This is our first time,” Keegan said without the slightest hint of innuendo.

“So please be easy with us.” Rueben’s remark dripped with suggestion because he was an unrepentant, shameless flirt.

She snorted, introduced herself as Carlie, then asked what they had in mind for their hair.

“He wants to look like he’s escaped a boy band,” Keegan said, ruffling the top of Rueben’s hair. “We’re thinking caramel highlights around his face to brighten things up a bit.”

Rueben smirked and shook his head. “And he wants to look less like a sheepdog so he can have a hot-boy summer.”

“Well, well. This must be my lucky day.” The sultry masculine voice came from behind them, and Rueben whirled to see who it belonged to. A gorgeous blond struck an artful pose with his hands on slender hips. He wore leather pants and a mesh crop top—both in black. The former showed off his long legs, and the latter drew the eyes to his tawny skin, ripped abs, and pierced nipples. A coy smile curved his lips as he sauntered toward Rueben and Keegan. The bright overhead lights glinted off shiny sequins sewn into his top, making it twinkle like starlight.

Keegan leaned close enough that his breath tickled Rueben’s ear. “He looks so familiar. Is that the gazelle from the bar?”

It took everything in his power not to laugh. The sex kitten prowling toward them was definitely the same guy from Keegan’s first trip to the Thirsty Cowboy. He’d been so wide-eyed and innocent as Rueben had described in graphic detail the kinds of things that went down. His little lamb chop had thought thirsty meant the patrons were actually parched for a drink. Rueben had defined the various roles people played at the bar, namely the lion and the gazelle. Mr. Sex on a Stick prowling toward them had drawn every eye in the bar, and Rueben had offered comedic byplay as this stunner engaged in cat-and-mouse games with a lion across the bar from him.

“Uh-huh.” This guy wasn’t Rueben’s type, but he couldn’t deny the man was gorgeous.

“I’m Sven, and this is your lucky day. My color correction appointment just canceled, so I have time to do both of you.”

Rueben blinked. He doubted very much that Sven was his real name, and Rueben wasn’t sure he was offering salon services.

“B-both?” Keegan stammered. “Now? At the same time?”

Sven stopped in front of Keegan and raised his brows. “I’m not sure we’re on the same page, darling.” The smirk said he knew exactly what he was doing with his double entendre. Sven lifted a toned arm to card his fingers through Keegan’s overgrown bangs. “You have such gorgeous bone structure. Cheekbones, jawline, and lips to die for. I can give you a cut that highlights them instead of hides them. Hot-boy summer, indeed.”

A pretty flush bloomed on Keegan’s cheeks. “Okay.”

Sven winked and turned his full attention to Rueben. He bit his pouty bottom lip as he studied Rueben’s hair and nodded. “Caramel highlights will look great, and they won’t take long. Follow me, pets.”

Keegan’s gaze snapped to Rueben as soon as Sven turned his back and mouthed, “Pets?”

Rueben just shrugged and gestured for Keegan to go first. Seth Burke might have a tight grip on his heart, but that didn’t stop Rueben from appreciating the seductive sway in Sven’s hips. He considered himself high-ranking on the sass-o-meter, but the hairstylist beat him out by a smidge…or three.

Sven stopped at a pristine station with hair implements and styling products neatly arranged. He patted the leather chair, then crooked his finger at Rueben. “You first, doll.” He winked at Keegan and added, “And you can watch.” Then, he scanned the salon as Rueben made himself comfortable. “Would you like to hang out in one of the massage pedicure chairs while you wait?” Sven asked Keegan. “You can sip a cold beverage, soak your feet, and relax. No pedicure required if it doesn’t interest you.”

“You should totally get a pedicure,” said a teen girl with rainbow-streaked hair as she passed them. “It’s life-affirming.”

Keegan nibbled on his bottom lip and looked to Rueben for guidance. It was probably one of those moments that triggered reminders of the hideous things the cult had said to him during his conversion therapy. They might not have mentioned pedicures specifically, but they would’ve had lots of opinions on personal grooming habits and what men would and should avoid.

“It’s been ages since I’ve had a pedicure,” Rueben said. “I say we dedicate this day to total self-care.”

Keegan’s answering smile was a beautiful thing.

Sven gasped and held a hand up to his forehead as if to shield his eyes from its brilliance.

Keegan rolled his eyes and followed the vivacious man to a vacant pedicure chair. Sven got him set up before disappearing into a back room. Keegan cast a searching look in his direction once more, and Rueben winked. Sven returned with a colorful drink and a petite nail tech, who smiled sweetly at Keegan before sitting on the stool at his feet. Sven crossed to Rueben, spun him around to face the mirror, and assessed his hair.

“What are you thinking about for a cut? That way, I know how many highlights and where they’ll go.”

“I want to stick with a fade, but maybe tighter and higher on the sides.”

Sven hummed. “I like it. You have beautiful bones. Let’s show them off.”

“Thank you.” Rueben hoped Sven wasn’t a serial killer who literally wanted to peel back his flesh.

“Let’s talk about the highlights. Do you want to look a little sun-kissed, or do you want something more dramatic? I could do a little of both. A little sun-kissed toward the crown but a heavier hand in the money piece section.”

“The money piece?” Rueben asked.

“The section framing your face. It’s what first draws the eye. We typically use the technique more with women, but men deserve to look and feel fabulous too.”

“Damn right.” Rueben thought of the way Seth looked at him the previous night. He gave new meaning to burning desire, and it was a miracle Seth hadn’t reduced Rueben to ashes on the floor. While he heard and respected all the reasons they shouldn’t be together, Rueben wasn’t about to make it easy for Seth to resist the need clawing at his guts. “I want the money shot.”

Sven snorted. “Money piece, darling. We don’t run that sort of establishment here.” He winked to soften his admonishment, but Rueben’s cheeks warmed anyway. “Are you married to this part?” Sven finger-combed Rueben’s hair and settled the strands on the other side of his face, revealing a natural lift at the roots. He picked up a comb and placed it above Rueben’s temple. “Do you want the fade to start here or slightly lower?” Sven dropped the comb a half inch. It was still higher than Rueben’s current fade but not as extreme. “Like maybe here?”

Rueben had a grand vision for turning metal and iron into art, but he was just as clueless as most men when it came to hairstyles. He recalled the photograph in the magazine that had caught his attention and said, “I want the higher option.”

“Bold move. I like it.” Sven set his comb back down and patted his shoulders. “I’ll go mix up my potion. Be right back.”

Rueben observed Keegan interacting with the nail tech in the mirror, then turned his chair to get a better look. His sweet friend’s upper body vibrated as the chair massagers went to work while he studied two bottles of nail polish in his hand. Keegan bit his lip again, and Rueben wondered if he was debating the color choice or deciding if boys and men should even wear nail polish. He must’ve sensed Rueben’s attention because Keegan held up the bottles for him to see. He could tell one was pink and one was blue, but he couldn’t see the exact shade or finish, so Rueben stood up and crossed the salon. Both shimmery polishes were a pale hue and would complement Keegan’s skin tone.

“I think most guys look amazing in pink,” Rueben said. Keegan’s eyes glowed with delight, and he knew he’d said the right thing. “I’ll go with the same color. We should swing by the general store on the way home to get flip-flops.” They wore sturdier footwear around the ranch, but it would be fun to knock around in sandals during their free time.

“Yes,” Keegan said excitedly. “I haven’t worn flip-flops since I was a little kid.”

Sven returned to the salon and halted when he noticed the vacant chair. It didn’t take him long to discover where Rueben had gone. “Ready to make some magic?” Every phrase out of the guy’s mouth sounded suggestive.

“Wish me luck,” Rueben whispered to Keegan.

“You won’t need it.”

Rueben returned to the chair and sat still while Sven draped a cape over his upper body and secured it around his neck. He expected the stylist to start with color, but he used an electric razor to do a rough cut on the sides and back to establish shaping first.

“This is just the framework and not the final style,” Sven assured Rueben.

“I trust you.” And he did. Sven seemed knowledgeable and confident.

Sven weaved a long-handled comb through small sections of hair, slathered on a foul-smelling chemical, and wrapped each one in aluminum foil. He looked absolutely ridiculous, but the smile on Keegan’s face was worth it. Rueben had taken his abuela to a hair salon many times before she moved to New Mexico with his tío and tía. Her stylist rolled her hair into tight curls and sat her under a dryer. Rueben hoped he wouldn’t require those steps. Keegan finished his pedicure and waddled over to Sven’s chair in flimsy temporary flip-flops that allowed his toes to dry.

Rueben surrendered his seat to Keegan and sat in the empty styling chair in the next station. He tuned in for the first few minutes of Sven and Keegan’s consultation, but his gaze wandered again to the riot of flowers in the reception area. A familiar hulking figure caught his attention on the other side of the huge storefront window. Reuben smiled at the memory of Kerry busting him with Seth in the supply room. Then, he recalled the articles he’d read about Kerry’s sister Natalie, and sorrow replaced the joy. Kerry stood on the sidewalk with a phone to his ear and appeared to be deep in conversation until he turned his head and locked eyes with Rueben through the glass. Kerry shook his head in disbelief as a wry smile pulled on his lips. He ended his call, tucked his phone away, and reached for the salon door. Kerry bypassed the reception counter with a wave and headed straight for them. Keegan was in midsentence when he spotted the sexy beast and let out an adorable little squeak.

Sven looked around and saw Kerry, too, and rolled his eyes. “Oh, it’s you.”

Kerry chuckled and reached for Sven’s head with one of those meaty paws, but the slender guy whipped out a pair of scissors that looked wickedly sharp.

“Not the hair,” Sven growled.

Kerry snorted. “Bet you say that to the fellas a lot.”

“You’ll never know.”

Keegan watched the banter with his mouth hanging open. He’d first met Kerry the night they went to the Thirsty Cowboy, and the big bruiser had asked Kee to dance. They’d looked adorable together, and Keegan had returned to his seat with stars dancing in his eyes. Rueben didn’t have the heart then to warn him about men like Kerry, but the blushing cheeks and dazed expression on Keegan’s face made him think that had been a mistake.

Kerry dropped his arm and turned his full attention to Keegan. “Hello again.”

Kee’s cheeks turned a darker shade of pink, accentuating his freckles. “Hi.”

Kerry reached forward and ran his fingertip over Keegan’s nose. “The freckles are new. And adorable.”

“They hibernate in the winter.” Keegan expressed how much he disliked his freckles at least once a day. “They make me look like I’m twelve,” he grumbled.

Kerry raked his gaze over Keegan from hair to toenails. “You’re all man.” There was a gentleness present whenever Kerry interacted with Keegan. Sven must’ve noticed it, too, because his perfectly shaped brows practically disappeared into his hairline. “And I like your polish.”

Keegan sat up straighter. “Really?”

“Mmhmm. Your toes are made for sucking.”

Keegan’s eyes widened like an adorable anime character, and then he dropped his gaze to his feet and furrowed his brows. “Market. Roast beef. All the way home.” He met Kerry’s gaze once more. “I don’t recall anything about the little piggies getting sucked.”

Kerry chuckled, stalked closer, and grazed his finger over the top of Keegan’s foot. “Well, Goldilocks, these little piggies never met the Big Bad Wolf.” Kerry’s rakish smile nearly set the building on fire.

Everyone in the salon probably heard Keegan’s gulp. It was a good thing he’d finished his fancy fruity drink before he sat down, or he would’ve dropped the glass on the floor. Rueben had clashing urges to both shield Keegan from Kerry and shove him toward the self-proclaimed Big Bad Wolf. Keegan’s pupils expanded until only a thin circle of hazel remained, and his breathing sounded shallow and fast. Someone needed to do something before Keegan combusted in the chair. There had to be a fuck ton of flammable chemicals in the salon. They needed to act fast before Kerry’s diabolical charisma took out the entire town.

Sven placed himself between Keegan and the hunk, pointing the sharp tip of the scissors at Kerry’s broad chest. “Back off, bruiser, or I’ll tell your mother you’re seducing her clients,” Sven said.

Kerry stepped back and narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I dare to do many things.”

Admiration made Rueben sit up taller. If he could bottle Sven’s moxie, he’d be a millionaire. Keegan showed promising signs of that audacity in the prosecutor’s office, and it had been a thing of beauty. Maybe they needed to spend more time around the stylist who wielded scissors like a sword and could cut a man with just his words.

Kerry mumbled something about cockblocking stepbrothers, but he did so in a jovial voice.

“Stepbrothers, huh?” Rueben asked.

“Sven’s dad married my mom,” Kerry said. “She owns this salon.” That meant Sven knew Seth well too. Kerry smiled at Keegan and said, “Until we meet again.” He pivoted, smirked at Rueben, and returned to the reception area, where he picked up floral arrangements and hauled them outside.

Sven sighed. “I’m so glad he swung by to get those. People mean well, but the salon is Lucinda’s happy place. She doesn’t need to get kicked in the teeth with sorrow when she comes back to work on Monday morning.”

“What’s going on?” Keegan asked.

Rueben had repeated very little of what he’d discussed with Seth the previous night. He had to explain his lengthened absence and only admitted to receiving an apology and clearing the air between them. Rueben let his thoughts wander as he watched Kerry carry one load of flowers after the other while Sven gave Keegan the abbreviated version of Natalie’s disappearance.

“No wonder Seth seemed out of sorts yesterday,” Keegan said.

Rueben wanted to shush him, but he was even more interested in what Sven had to say. He didn’t know when Kerry’s parents divorced, but they’d been married when Natalie was murdered. It felt much safer getting information from Sven than asking one of the Harts or Burkes.

“Seth was the last one in the family to see Natalie alive,” Sven told Keegan. “He’s always blamed himself. That guy carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. I sure wish he’d meet someone who’d help share the load.”

Rueben bit the inside of his cheek to keep from calling out, “He has. It’s me.”

Sven settled his hands on Keegan’s shoulders. “Can I give you a friendly piece of advice about Kerry?”

Keegan worked his bottom lip between his teeth as Rueben’s heart sank. The urge to shield his friend rose swiftly again, but Keegan probably needed to hear what Sven had to say. There wasn’t an ounce of malice or pity in the stylist’s eyes, only concern. It seemed Keegan had made an indelible impression on Sven too, but that wasn’t surprising. To know Kee was to love him. Sven kept his gaze on the mirror as he assessed Keegan’s hair. Long, slender fingers carded through the blond strands, shifting the part and testing angles.

“Okay,” Keegan said after a long stretch of silence.

Sven stopped, shifted his gaze to meet Keegan’s in the mirror. “Damn, you’re beautiful.” The blush returned to Keegan’s cheeks, and Sven sighed. “Too beautiful for your own damn good, which facilitates the next part. You’ll never find a braver or kinder man than Kerry Hart. His generosity knows no bounds, and I’ll never find a better friend.”

Keegan squirmed a little. “But…”

“I’ve never known anyone who shields their heart as fiercely. Seth plays a close second, but at least he’s tried his hand at the love thing.” That comment caught Rueben off guard, but he didn’t have time to obsess over it because he didn’t want to miss another second of the conversation. Information was gold, and Sven held the keys to the mine. “But Kerry’s heart is locked down tight. Pretty sure an X-ray would reveal a mini dragon hovering beneath his ribs.”

“You don’t have to tell me this,” Keegan said softly. “He’s not…we’re not…”

“Oh, he is very much interested in you.” Sven’s voice was gentle, but mischief sparkled in his eyes. “And you’re equally attracted to him, which is why you need to know something very important. Kerry is an honorable man, and he’ll never mislead someone to get them into bed. He means what he says, so believe him when he tells you he’s not looking for anything more than sex.”

Keegan’s mouth opened and shut a few times like a guppy before he found his voice. “He’s not. I’m not.”

“He will, and you will. Just keep in mind what I said, and maybe hold on to your heart a little too, huh?”

Keegan’s face turned an alarming shade of dark pink, but he nodded.

“Good. Now, let’s talk about your haircut.”

Their new styles were a hit at the diner. The waitstaff knew them by name and complimented the cuts. They’d grudgingly put their socks and sneakers back on, but only long enough to grab something to eat before hitting the general store to buy flip-flops. The diner was as busy as they’d expected, and several people stopped by their table to say hello. The ranch crew had become minor celebrities after the success of their YouTube channel, something they established as damage control to combat the media-fueled sensationalism surrounding the cult. The crew lived in a small enough bubble to avoid the downside of notoriety, but Rueben knew that would change as they neared pretrial hearings. He’d already rejected interview opportunities from several media outlets and investigative journalists. He’d talk about his work on Redemption Ridge all day, every day, but he wasn’t looking to become famous or infamous, so people gawking or staring irritated the hell out of him.

Rueben knew he’d captured someone’s attention when his arm hair stood at attention like good soldiers, and his skin felt like a thousand ants crawled beneath the surface. He tried to ignore the sensations and enjoy his meal, but his senses were too engaged elsewhere and overrode his taste buds. A guy learned to be astute and stay focused in jail to avoid becoming someone’s punching bag or worse. He turned his head as if to study the dessert menu written on the large chalkboard but scanned the room from the corner of his eye. A man with auburn hair and broad shoulders sat at the counter toward the front of the diner. His head was turned in Rueben’s direction, but without making eye contact, he couldn’t be sure that was the source of unease. Rueben looked out the window and scanned the other side of the restaurant from his periphery. No one else looked in their direction, so it had to be the ginger. Was he a friend or foe?

“You okay?” Keegan asked. “You haven’t said much since we sat down. Thinking about—” He cut himself off before Seth’s name slipped from his lips.

“Always.” But that wasn’t his problem. Rueben turned his head and did another periphery scan. Yep. The guy was still watching him. Or maybe the stranger was looking at his companion. That thought tripped Rueben’s protective instincts, and he nearly turned his head to initiate eye contact. Keegan seemed impervious to the attention, and the last thing Rueben wanted to do was draw his awareness to it.

Keegan sighed and nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

His friend leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Don’t look now, but some hot guy at the counter can’t stop staring at you.”

So, his little lamb was growing up. Rueben’s pride soared right off the charts. “How do you know he’s not looking at you?” The asymmetrical cut Sven had given Keegan showcased his flawless face to perfection. When Keegan just shrugged, Rueben said, “He’s probably trying to place which boy band I used to be in.”

Keegan snorted loudly, and the lady at the next table flinched. He apologized, then briefly covered his mouth. “Maybe the hot ginger could get you over the hump.”

Said no one who’d ever spent the night in Seth’s bed, let alone three nights. And it wasn’t just the physical stuff he craved. “I’m not ready.”

Their server stopped by their table at just that moment. “Not ready for what?” she asked. “Dessert? Your check? Or maybe you’re not ready for me to clear your plates.”

Reuben smiled at her quick wit. “No dessert for me. I am ready for the check, and I’ll take a to-go box as well.” He could reheat the leftovers later if he got hungry.

“Same for me,” Keegan said.

“You got it.”

She returned promptly, and they transferred the food to the boxes before heading to the register to pay. Keegan went first, which gave Rueben the chance to observe the guy with the auburn hair sitting at the opposite end of the counter. He lowered his head and peered at the stranger from beneath his thick, long eyelashes. Rueben had never understood people’s obsession with his lashes, but he had a new appreciation for their thickness now. It was hard to tell someone’s height when they sat, unless they were extremely short or tall. His not-so-secret admirer fell into the latter category. He had the build and breadth of a linebacker. Rueben could tell the stranger’s eyes were light, but it was impossible to know if they were blue or green. He couldn’t find a trace of danger in the man’s observation, only curiosity. Rueben pondered making eye contact and decided against it. He wasn’t in the mood to engage in conversation.

Keegan finished quickly and stepped aside so Rueben could pay for his food. He gave the server a generous tip as usual because he remembered how exhausted his mama had been at the end of her waitressing shifts. Rueben avoided looking in the stranger’s direction when they exited the restaurant, but he watched from the corner of his eye when they passed the window front. Yep, the man was still watching him.

“I’m creeped out,” Keegan said.

“Ditto.”

Their last stop was the general store, and Rueben figured it would be an easy in and out until the feed supply manager came over to them as they perused the selection of flip-flops.

“Hey, fellas,” Randy said. “Finley placed a livestock feed order for pickup on Monday, but I have it ready to go now. Wanna drive your truck around back after you’re done here so the boys can load it for you?”

“Fine by me,” Rueben said, even though he’d driven to town in the older pickup truck he bought with his own money after the accident. He still drove a ranch truck whenever he conducted official business, but the logo on the doors had made him a target once. He wanted to minimize his chances of a repeat incident.

“It will save me a trip on Monday,” Keegan said. He hadn’t quite found his niche on the ranch and just helped wherever he could. Most of the time, he acted as Cash’s personal assistant, but he volunteered in the barns, the fields, and especially Harry’s kitchen. “Will your truck be able to haul the weight?”

Rueben narrowed his eyes. “She might not be much of a looker, but she’s dependable as hell.” That’s what the seller had claimed when Rueben responded to the Marketplace ad, and she’d lived up to the hype so far.

Keegan held up his hands and backed away. “I’m not insulting your girl.” The twinkle in his eyes contradicted his conciliatory tone.

“He’s totally dissing your truck,” Randy said. “But nice haircut, Keegan.” He looked at Rueben next. “And you too.” Then, he turned on his heels and headed to the back of the store.

“Thanks,” they called out in unison.

The compliment effectively ended their mock war, and they resumed the hunt for the perfect summer sandal. They both liked the leather braided flip-flops with the comfortable support. Keegan chose a light gray pair, and Rueben picked black. The line to check out was surprisingly long, so Keegan fished out cash from his wallet and handed it to Rueben.

“You pay for the shoes, and I’ll drive around back to pick up the order.”

Rueben arched a brow. “So now my truck is good enough to drive.”

“This again,” Keegan muttered with a playful eye roll.

Rueben retrieved his keys and swapped them for Keegan’s sandals. “Don’t put a single scratch on her.”

Keegan smirked as he took a few steps backward. “How would you even notice?”

Rueben searched for a witty comeback, but his usual sass evaded him. He released an outraged gasp instead, causing several people to look in his direction. Rueben covered his heart with a pair of gray flip-flops. “You wound me.”

Keegan’s laughter echoed in Rueben’s heart long after he left the building. The line inched along because there was one issue after another at the counter. One customer had an item without a tag, another wanted to haggle over why one brand wasn’t on sale when another similar item was, and the register ran out of receipt tape. Rueben was on the verge of returning the sandals to the shelves and walking out when a display of prepaid cell phones at the checkout counter caught his eye. If he bought one of those, he could talk to Seth anonymously. He could pay cash for the phone and minutes. The number would come up on Seth’s cell phone records, but someone would need a subpoena or warrant—he was never sure which one—to get the call log. All they needed to do was avoid drawing attention to themselves and giving someone legal reason to go for those records.

Just the thought of buying the phone made Rueben feel guilty as hell. Was he really willing to risk their chance at justice to hear Seth’s voice? Of course not. He closed his eyes and recalled Seth’s various voice tones and pitches he’d stowed in his bank—memory and spank—after their weekend together. Seth’s voice got softer when he was sleepy, silky and firm when he dominated Rueben in bed and gravelly first thing in the morning. It could be another three years before he experienced those tones firsthand, but Rueben could at least hear them through the phone. Was that too much to ask? An unforgivable crime? Rueben convinced himself the answer to both questions was no by the time he reached the front of the line, but his conviction wavered when he paid for both sets of sandals with his debit card and bought the phone and minutes with cash. “For a friend,” he’d said, though the cashier hadn’t asked why he had separate transactions.

Rueben collected the bags and receipts from the clerk, then spun around to leave the store. He made it two steps and froze because the ginger guy from the diner was leaning against a porch post and watching him through the open door. The man’s eyes were green, nearly as light as Finley’s. The expression in them was friendly and curious. Rueben couldn’t just stand there all day, and he didn’t want to anyway. He squared his shoulders and urged his feet to move. The stranger straightened to his full height as he drew near and smiled, but Rueben strode past him.

“Stalker much?”

“You don’t give a guy much of a choice, Mr. Sanchez.” His voice was smooth and dripped with charm.

Rueben stopped so suddenly that the guy nearly slammed into him. He whirled around and pinned a menacing scowl on his face. “Who the hell are you?”

The ginger man took two wise steps back. “I’m Oliver Hawkins.” He said his name like Rueben should know it.

Oliver Hawkins. Oliver Hawkins. It sounded a little familiar, but recognition eluded him, and he didn’t really care. “The name isn’t doing anything for me.”

“Yet,” Oliver replied. “Maybe we can grab a drink later and discuss why I drove from Denver to talk to you.”

Nothing in his expression or voice came across as suggestive, but it still made Rueben feel gross. He had to be one of the reporters who’d called him the previous month. “Hard pass, Mr. Hawkins. I’m sorry, but you’ve wasted your time.” Rueben turned and continued around the side of the store. Keegan and safety waited for him at the loading docks.

“This is your chance to tell your narrative with your own voice, Mr. Sanchez. I’m an investigative journalist with the Denver Post.”

Ahhh. He recognized the pitch. This was the guy whose newspaper wanted to do a podcast about Salvation Anew. Rueben walked even faster. “Hell no.” Rory was the only one he trusted to share his story with real integrity, but he’d avoided doing the deeper interviews that some of the crew had already filmed. He’d get there someday, but on his terms.

“The national media will swarm this small town when the trial starts. They will exploit your tragedies and turn your molehill-sized misdeeds into mountains for their own gains.”

Rueben stopped and whirled again. If he weren’t careful, he’d make himself dizzy or wrench something. “And you’re different how?” What did this guy know about his tragedies and misdeeds? Sure, he’d done research, but those articles would’ve barely scratched the surface of his history. They sure as hell wouldn’t have told the truth.

“You beat them at their own game and strike first,” Oliver said. “I don’t want to exploit you, and I don’t need to rely on sensationalism. I’ve got sixteen years of journalism experience and accreditations I could show you.”

Rueben exhaled long and slow. “You sound sincere.”

“Thank you. I am.”

“But I’m still not interested. Please respect my wishes and don’t contact me again.” Rueben turned and walked away, thankfully without a shadow. It made him curious why the journalist hadn’t mentioned Keegan’s name or recognized him at the diner. Kee didn’t take part in the ranch videos, and it was possible his picture never got published during the initial media frenzy. Then again, Keegan didn’t look or sound like the same person who’d risked his life to escape so he could report the Carsons for cutting the brake lines that failed on Rueben. Oliver was likely on the hunt for Keegan without knowing where to find him. The urge to protect his friend got Rueben’s feet moving faster. He glanced up the sidewalk as he rounded the rear corner of the building and breathed easier when he saw Oliver hadn’t followed.

Keegan leaned casually against the side of the truck while talking to the guy working the loading dock. He straightened when he caught sight of Rueben and ended his conversation to meet him halfway. “What’s wrong? You’ve been gone forever.”

“I’ll tell you in the truck. You drive.”

Keegan arched a brow but didn’t argue. They waved at the feed store employee and drove off. “Now tell me.”

Rueben filled him in, starting with the customer issues and ending with Oliver Hawkins approaching him about the podcast. He left out the bit about buying a burner phone, and he didn’t want to dwell on the reasons why.

“Wow. That guy sure is ballsy.” Keegan glanced over at him and smiled. “You’re not even a little interested in doing the podcast.”

“Nope.” Rueben looked over at him. “Are you?”

Keegan pursed his lips. “Not right now. Anything I say could be used as a weapon in court, and putting Mick and Quinton away is too important to me.”

Guilt pierced Rueben’s heart, and the bag on his lap suddenly weighed fifty pounds. Just because he purchased the phone didn’t mean he had to use it. He kept repeating that to himself as he plugged it in to charge and contemplated what he’d say to Seth throughout poker night on the ranch. He spoke the words out loud even as he dialed the number he’d memorized nine months ago before deleting it from his phone. Rueben convinced himself Seth wouldn’t answer. It was late. He’d had an emotional day that might not even be over yet, and Rueben called from a number Seth wouldn’t recognize.

He answered on the second ring. “Burke.”

There were so many things Rueben wanted to say, but all he could manage was a shaky inhale.

“Rueben.” His name rolled off Seth’s tongue like a whispered prayer.

“How’d you know?”

“You make that same shaky breath every time I’ve slid my dick inside you.”

Rueben bit his lips to hold back the answering whimper, but he was no match for it.

Seth chuckled. “I know that sound too.”

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t call for dirty talk or to breathe heavy in your ear?”

“Yes,” Seth replied simply. “So, why did you?”

“You’ve just been on my mind. Your entire family has, actually. I know tonight must’ve been so hard for all of you.”

Seth inhaled deep and slow. “It was, but we found comfort in the love that surrounded us. People created beautiful video montages of Natalie. We laughed, cried, and remembered her through hours of shared stories and love. She was so damn special.”

“Runs in the family.”

“I don’t know about that,” Seth replied. “Where are you calling me from?”

“Um, I’m using an unregistered prepaid phone I bought with cash.”

Seth was silent for so long Rueben thought he’d disconnected until a soft chuckle reached his ears. “You bought a burner phone?”

Heat bloomed in his cheeks. “You make it sound so shady.”

“Because it is.”

“No one will know it’s me if I don’t register it,” Rueben said.

“Checking the cell tower pings will narrow the suspect pool. And what about security cameras in the store you bought it from?”

Rueben grimaced. “I told you once that I made an awful criminal.”

“That you did.” Seth sighed. “I am so glad to hear your voice, though.”

“So, you won’t mind chatting a little longer?”

“Maybe for a few minutes.”

That turned into a few hours, and it was well past midnight when a huge yawn cracked Rueben’s jaw.

“Sounds like it’s bedtime for you.” Seth’s voice was the sleepy softness Rueben loved. “Thank you for checking on me.”

“My pleasure.” Rueben’s words held a little purr in them, but neither remarked on it.

“But you’re not going to call me again, right?” Seth asked.

“Of course not.”

Seth groaned huskily. “Liar.”

Rueben bit his lip to keep from laughing. “You don’t have to answer.”

“And I won’t.”

“Liar. Good night, Seth.”

“Night, baby.”

Rueben didn’t catch Seth’s slip until the echoes of their goodbye woke him the next morning. He glanced at the clock and saw it was only six. Rueben picked up the burner from the nightstand and caressed it like it was his lover. “One more phone call just to hear his sexy morning voice. Then I’ll smash you under my boot.”

Seth’s words from the previous night taunted him. Liar.