Chapter Four #3
Seth chuckled and followed her to the table.
Kerry was behind the bar again, smirking like he got paid by the hour to do so.
He wished he could give his cousin a proper reaction but settled for letting a dark scowl act as his middle finger.
Kerry only grinned broader before taking an order from a thirsty patron.
Seth settled in his seat and pretended to study the drink menu on the table while scanning the darker alcove for the face he l-liked a freaking lot.
Brown eyes warmer than a fudge brownie snagged his gaze, and his pulse leaped with recognition before his brain assimilated who they belonged to, proving which of his organs was in command.
Seth’s dick flexed as if wanting to get in on the debate, so he forced his attention to the drink menu.
This act of defiance had to be the stupidest thing he’d done to date.
Did he and Rueben really expect to sit across a room from one another and not give their innermost desires away?
When a tall figure cast a hulking shadow over his table, Seth assumed Kerry had ambled over to harass him, so he didn’t even look up. “Why don’t you piss off and send someone over who won’t bust my balls while taking my drink order?”
The responding chuckle was just as familiar as Kerry’s, but it did not belong to his cousin.
Seth snapped his head up in shock and locked his gaze on the handsome face he’d expected to adore until his dying breath.
Conflicting ambitions and a refusal to compromise had put an end to their happily ever after, leaving Seth bruised and bloodied.
He’d built the defenses around his heart higher, settling for hookups or unattainable flirtations.
Seth’s protections held strong until a feisty man busted a Rueben-shaped hole through one side.
“Oliver.” His flat voice didn’t dim his ex’s smile the slightest bit.
Seth knew this moment would occur when he’d read the article Kerry sent him, but he’d hoped for a private reunion.
“May I?” Oliver asked, gesturing to the empty chair in front of him.
Seth searched for a polite but firm refusal that wouldn’t draw attention to them, and Oliver mistook the delay as consent.
He pulled the chair back and sat down, blocking Seth’s view of Rueben.
Fuck. Seth would have some explaining to do during their next conversation.
He could think of a hundred things he’d rather discuss with Rueben. “What do you want?”
“Now, is that any way to talk to someone you once loved?”
Seth barely resisted rolling his eyes like a sullen teenager. “Once is the key word there, Ollie.” He realized his mistake as soon as the word rolled off his tongue.
“Aw, you still care.”
“It’s a nickname everyone uses for you, not a personal endearment.”
Oliver sighed and shook his head. “Right. You don’t use those. They’re beneath you or something.”
Or something. Seth lost track of the times he’d called Rueben baby over the past two weeks.
It wasn’t something he ever intended because he had always loathed pet names and endearments.
Apparently, those same rules didn’t apply to Rueben.
Seth was coming to understand that most rules—logic, law, or otherwise—didn’t apply to Rue.
He searched his psyche for the underlying fear that would temper his craving, but it eluded Seth.
Rueben made him feel untethered and free in ways he’d never experienced before.
The urge to connect with him was strong, but a big hurdle stood between Seth and the warm brown gaze he’d sought moments ago.
“You didn’t answer my question. What do you want? ”
Oliver’s lips turned down at the corners in a slight frown.
“I’m back in town, hoping for better luck with my interview requests.
” He wanted Seth to poke and prod to get a deeper answer, but he wasn’t taking the bait.
“For my podcast.” Oliver paused again to encourage Seth to ask questions.
“About Salvation Anew’s crimes and upcoming trials. ”
“Alleged,” Seth said.
Oliver arched a brow. “Pardon?”
“The crimes are alleged until they’re proven or acquitted in court,” Seth explained. But Oliver knew this, which meant he’d taken the bait after all. “That’s probably going to take two to three years, by the way. So, why are you here now?”
“The paper wants to strike while the iron is hot,” Oliver said.
“Still trying to be the next Bob Woodward, I see.”
Oliver ignored his dig and said, “They’re thinking we can turn the podcast into multiple seasons.
I’ll start investigating the circumstances leading up to the arrest, and I’ll come back for the eventual trial.
My first attempts to interview witnesses and victims didn’t go so well, but I’m hoping the buzz generated from my announcement will fix that. ”
Seth sat up a little straighter. “What victims and what witnesses?” Rueben hadn’t mentioned anything to him, but they’d agreed not to discuss anything closely associated with the case.
“Whoa, ho ho,” Oliver said. “Bringing out the big guns to intimidate me?”
“Big guns? My hands are resting on the table.”
“It’s the voice,” Oliver said, running long, slender fingers over his throat.
“Gets deeper and huskier when you mean business.” He leaned forward and narrowed his green eyes.
The romantic lighting in the restaurant picked up the various shades of reds and browns in his auburn hair.
Oliver was still a handsome son of a bitch, but the things that had once made Seth swoon didn’t create the slightest flutter in his stomach.
“I sometimes made you mad on purpose just so you’d use it on me.
It really cranked my gears. We had some good times, you and me. ”
Seth neither confirmed nor denied. Of course, they’d had good times, but the tumultuous final year obliterated all the good they’d shared.
If Seth remarked on that, Oliver would inflate his relevance in his life.
He ignored their shared history to focus on the present bullshit.
“Stay away from the victims and witnesses.”
Oliver leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. The sleeves of his shirt pulled tight to show off impressive biceps, but Seth didn’t feel a flicker of arousal.
Everything about Oliver was contrived, and it took meeting someone who was truly comfortable in their skin to realize it.
“Are you trying to intimidate a member of the press?”
“Are you trying to interfere with the prosecution of a criminal case?” Seth countered.
He made a mental note to meet with Lyndhurst about filing a gag order with the judge.
People might refuse to talk now, but their lips could loosen the longer the prosecution dragged out.
If Oliver couldn’t get information, he wouldn’t have a podcast or a reason to stay.
It wouldn’t take long for his allergy to small-town life to flare up.
He’d been more than eager to leave it behind for bigger opportunities in Denver, and Seth doubted much had changed in that regard.
Oliver guffawed. “You know me better than that, Seth. I’m not your enemy.
I simply want to start off with human-interest stories.
You and I both know the attention will shift to the perpetrators when this thing gets going, and the victims will get left behind just like they always do. I can give them a voice.”
While that sounded noble, Seth knew Oliver had his eye on a bigger prize.
A larger paper like the New York Times, perhaps?
Some true-crime podcasts garnered millions of followers, which launched careers into the stratosphere.
Oliver would want his piece of the pie, and Seth had no intention of serving it up to him, especially not at Rueben’s or Keegan’s expense.
“You could ruin their lives,” Seth countered.
Oliver’s brow shot up. “Like this community did to Ryan Ulrich and his family? The dude got tried in the court of public opinion, convicted of killing Natalie, and chased out of town.”
Seth narrowed his eyes. “I had nothing to do with that, and why did you bring up that old argument?” It was an enormous source of contention between them every time the subject came up.