Page 2 of The Keeper

Keegan darted a worried glance in Rueben’s direction, and he responded with a reassuring wink. Rueben imagined the meeting would take place in a large conference room where they could spread out and he wouldn’t have the walking mojito within licking distance. Rueben fell in behind Cynthia, and Keegan followed closely. Seth brought up the rear, a thought he didn’t allow himself to explore for fear of tripping over his feet.

“Normally, we’d use the conference room, but the clerks have turned it into a war room to prep for an upcoming trial,” Cynthia said. “I’ll bring in an extra chair for the sheriff.”

“I can come back and meet with Tony later,” Seth offered.

“He’s leaving after this meeting, I’m afraid.” Cynthia stopped next to an open door and gestured for Rueben to enter.

Tony Lyndhurst rose to his feet and greeted him with a pleasant smile. He extended his hand and formally introduced himself. He had medium-brown hair with a smattering of gray at the temples, hawklike blue eyes, and the complexion of someone who spent way too much time indoors.

“It’s good to meet you, sir. I’m Rueben Sanchez.” He dropped his hand and moved over so Keegan could meet the man. Rueben turned his head just enough to see Burke in his periphery. The object of his desire stood in the doorway, chatting to Cynthia in a low voice. Once Lyndhurst finished up his greeting to Keegan, Rueben could parse some of the conversation.

“What time tomorrow?” Cynthia asked.

“Six o’clock,” Seth replied.

“I’ll be there. You go on in, and I’ll grab the chair.”

Had he just overheard Seth and Cynthia making a date? Was Seth attracted to women too? They’d talked a lot between bouts of scorching passionate sex, but they kept their discussions light and their discoveries sensual. The meeting with the prosecutor took on a new sense of urgency, and Rueben fought the urge not to turn around and glare a warning in Cynthia’s direction.

Rueben tried not to stare when Seth entered the room and extended his hand to Lyndhurst. He stared at the lineup of personal photographs on the credenza behind the prosecutor’s desk. Each candid shot portrayed a life well loved and lived, so it was easy to ignore the men who greeted one another. Their amiable tones and usage of first names implied a casual relationship between the county’s top cop and chief prosecutor. Luckily, they didn’t break into small talk while waiting for the lovely Cynthia’s return. It already felt like someone was tap-dancing on his last nerve, so the last thing Rueben wanted to hear was their golf scores or fishing stories. Did Seth play golf or fish? There was still so much to discover about Seth, and he found the idea thrilling. Rueben wanted to know him better than anyone else. He longed for the day when Seth realized he was the keeper. Not just a keeper, because that implied Rueben would be one of many key people in Seth’s life when he wanted to be the one.

Rueben discreetly studied Seth from the corner of his eye and repressed the sappy, lovesick sigh building in his chest. He didn’t know what brand of jeans the man preferred, but the dark denim was made to hug that fine ass. The khaki shirt stretched across broad shoulders was crisp perfection, and Rueben knew from personal experience that the fabric was much softer than it looked. Hell, he’d even borrowed the shirt or one like it when he’d left the bed long enough to retrieve drinks from the refrigerator. Rueben had lifted the shirt collar to his face and inhaled the lime and mint imbedded into the fabric. It had made Rueben want to slurp a mojito from his belly button. Seth didn’t have any of those ingredients, but he’d encouraged Rueben to use his tongue wherever, whenever, and however he chose. Absence didn’t just make the heart grow fonder; it made the libido get hornier. A mournful sigh slipped past his defenses, but he disguised it with a light cough.

“Do you need something to drink, Mr. Sanchez?” Lyndhurst asked.

“No, but thank you.” Rueben thought the cough might’ve gotten Seth’s attention and dared to look in his direction, but Seth averted his gaze to the phone in his hand. The man could draw that bastard from his pocket quicker than a gunslinger at high noon. Rueben tamped down his disappointment and forced his attention back to the prosecutor.

“How about you, Mr. Scott?” Lyndhurst asked.

Keegan also declined the offer before turning a wry gaze Rueben’s way. The cough hadn’t fooled him one bit. “Nice rebound,” he whispered.

Rueben shot him a wink and then gazed around the room. Heavy wood furniture with a dark finish took up nearly the entire space. Someone had polished the surfaces to a shine, which probably accounted for the hints of lemon Rueben smelled in the air. The office was much smaller than he’d have guessed, but it was three times the size of the broom closet Rueben’s public defender had called an office. He’d known he was fucked the moment he saw the card table and folding chairs his attorney used. Cynthia still hadn’t returned by the time he finished his perusal. Just how far did she have to go to find an extra chair? Lyndhurst must’ve shared a similar wavelength because he walked to the door and peered into the hallway.

“Ah, here she comes,” he said.

“Sorry. I got stopped a few times before I could get back here.” Probably from war-waging clerks in the conference room. Cynthia wheeled the chair into the room and stepped back. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

The only spots big enough for Seth to sit were behind Lyndhurst’s desk with the prosecutor or in the corner diagonally from Rueben. Either spot would put him directly in Seth’s line of sight. It probably surprised no one when the sheriff parked his broad shoulders in the corner to give his brawny frame extra space. Rueben looked in his direction, but Seth stared down at the floor. Look at me. Please. When Seth didn’t yield to his silent pleas, Rueben forced his attention to Lyndhurst.

The older man leaned back in his chair and smiled in what Rueben assumed was supposed to be a fatherly manner to put them at ease. He couldn’t remember his father, so he wouldn’t know, and Lyndhurst’s expression only made him more anxious. Keegan’s legs started bouncing again, and Rueben placed his hand on the closest knee and left it there. It seemed Lyndhurst’s smile didn’t relax his friend either.

The prosecutor’s gaze dropped to Rueben’s hand on Keegan’s knee. A slight furrow formed on his brow, and the smile morphed from paternal to patronizing. “You two obviously know one another, and I assume you’ve both met Sheriff Burke.”

Keegan verbally confirmed their past introduction while Rueben nodded.

“I’ve interviewed Mr. Scott and Mr. Sanchez multiple times during my investigation.” Seth’s professional tone held none of the warmth Rueben remembered from their weekend together. He sounded cold and indifferent and continued to avoid Rueben’s gaze. If Seth wasn’t looking at the prosecutor, or at his feet, he stared at a spot on the wall between Keegan’s and Rueben’s heads. From Lyndhurst’s angle, it would appear Seth was making eye contact with the witnesses.

Look at me, damn it. Nothing. What the hell was going on? It was one thing to pretend they didn’t know each other intimately, but Seth seemed almost hostile toward him.

“I think the best thing to do is to get right to the point,” Lyndhurst said. “First, I want to apologize for my lack of communication over the past nine months. Based on the strength of our evidence, I expected the Carsons to accept plea bargains instead of going to trial. Their defense attorneys had seemed keen when I presented the offers, but they quickly came back with rejections after talking to their clients. That’s no excuse for my poor communication, but I want you to know your best interests have been at the forefront of my mind the entire time.”

“How so?” Keegan’s voice was clear and calm, showing no signs of the wounded man who’d arrived at the ranch not that long ago.

Lyndhurst’s brow arched, and he cocked his head to the side. “Pardon?”

“How did you have our best interests at heart when you never asked us what we wanted?”

“I, uh—”

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