Page 20 of The Keeper

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.

“My first trip back to Last Chance Creek to track down witnesses coincided with the twenty-fifth anniversary of her passing, so it’s fresh in my mind.” Oliver held his gaze without blinking. “And maybe to point out your hypocrisy.” Seth bristled at the insult but let Oliver keep digging a deeper grave. “You were eager to remind me that the Carsons’ crimes are alleged, but you don’t apply the same rule to Ryan Ulrich. You harbor bitter resentment about the way the media handled Natalie’s disappearance, yet you want to obstruct my attempts to give the Salvation Anew victims control of their narrative.”

Greer, Seth’s favorite server, chose that moment to approach the table. “Good evening,” she said. “What can I get you guys?”

Seth unclenched his jaw and offered her a smile. “I’ll take a Michelob Ultra, and he’s just leaving.”

“I’ll have the same,” Oliver said without shifting his defiant green gaze away from Seth. “And a menu, please. I haven’t been here in a long time.”

Not long enough. Greer bounced her gaze between them before halting curious eyes on Seth, making it clear she’d follow his cue. He wanted Oliver gone but wasn’t willing to cause a scene to accomplish it. “He can have one beer, but he won’t be needing a menu,” Seth told Greer.

Oliver’s chuckle pulled Seth’s attention to him. “I’ll just order whatever he’s having.” His auburn brow arched higher as if to say, “Your play.”

The same arguments and concerns as before rolled through Seth’s mind, and he ceded this round to Oliver. “We’re in the mood for the steakhouse bacon burger, extra onion petals, and barbecue sauce, please.” Oliver tried and failed to hide his grimace. He would’ve ordered a chicken Caesar salad with dressing on the side to avoid eating too many calories. “Can we get our Parmesan fries extra crispy?” Code for longer time in the grease.

“Of course.” Greer finished tapping away on her tablet and smiled at him. “Anything else?”

“That should do it for now. Thanks, Greer.”

“My pleasure, Sheriff.”

Once they were alone again, Oliver rubbed his chest like he had heartburn just from listening to the food order. “Well played, Seth. I hope the food comes with wet wipes and antacid tablets. I see your eating habits haven’t changed in five years.” Oliver raked his gaze over Seth’s upper body, and appreciation gleamed in his eyes. “How do you stay so fit?”

Seth wasn’t about to answer the question and open the door to his personal life. “No comment.”

Oliver huffed out a sigh. “Careful, or I’ll think you still harbor feelings for me.”

A commotion by the hostess station caught Seth’s attention. He nearly snorted when he recognized Kerry’s stepbrother, Steven, who became Sven years ago when one of their second cousins couldn’t pronounce his name. The toddler’s abbreviation became a family nickname that just held. Steven morphed into someone befitting a name like Sven. He was glamorous, seductive, and vivacious. So basically, pure trouble befitting the laughter and hugging going on at the hostess’s stand. Sven scanned the room and widened his eyes when he spotted Oliver at Seth’s table. He looked like he was about to head over until Keegan stood up and waved Sven over to their table.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. There was no doubt in Seth’s mind that Rueben would pump Sven for information about the man at his table, which proved accurate when Rueben called him a few hours later.

“So, you were engaged to Oliver, huh?”

Seth knew the questions were coming and had cherry-picked his answers, but he expected Rueben’s typical greeting first. “No, ‘hello, handsome’ tonight, huh? We’re just going to jump right in there?”

Rueben’s soft chuckle caressed his ear. “Hello, handsome.”

“Hi, baby.”

“So, you were engaged to Oliver, huh?”

Seth couldn’t hold back his laughter. He adored Rueben’s tenacity. “Jealous?”

“Hell yes.” The words came out in a sexy growl that curled Seth’s bare toes.

“Don’t be. It was a million years ago.”

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