Page 13 of The Keeper

“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.

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