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.