Page 6 of The Keeper

The restaurant wasn’t much to look at, just a ranch-style building in the middle of nowhere. The white clapboard exterior was simple, but the Feisty Bull’s top-notch culinary delights brought customers back for more, as evidenced by the packed parking lot and busy phone lines. The overflow spilled onto the grassy areas on either side of the restaurant and between the gravel lot and the road. Seth groaned and nearly kept going when he saw the crowd, but thoughts of a cheesesteak hoagie teeming with thinly sliced rib eye, smoky provolone cheese, peppers, onions, and mushrooms were the only thing that had kept him moving throughout the day. Exhaustion had come and gone, and he now teetered into the land of the living dead.

Running into Rueben and seeing him happy with someone else sure as hell hadn’t boosted his energy. Seth couldn’t help but notice the intimate way Rueben and Keegan interacted. He’d arrived at Lyndhurst’s office in time to see Rueben’s arm around Keegan’s shoulders as they headed into the building. He sat in his truck for several minutes to quell the disappointment he had no right to feel. Seth convinced himself Rueben was just offering emotional support, but then he’d placed his hand on Keegan’s knee at one point, and they’d held hands at another. Seth didn’t have any right to feel jealous. He was the one who’d told Rueben they couldn’t have a future with the trial looming over their heads. He’d foolishly believed the Carsons would accept a plea deal rather than risk trial, but they were still holding out nine months later. Lyndhurst had unfortunately made some very valid points Seth couldn’t ignore. His actions could have serious consequences if anyone found out about his weekend with Rueben.

If Seth was to be mad at anyone for his predicament, he only needed to point the finger at himself. He was the one who’d invited Rueben to the old fishing cabin he inherited from his grandpa Burke, thinking that a few rounds of sex would work the charmer out of his system. All Seth had accomplished was a deeper desire to know everything about Rueben, including additional ways to make him come. His name cried from Rueben’s lush lips during a pulsing climax had become Seth’s favorite thing, and after nine months, he wondered if he’d imagined the chemistry they’d shared. But seeing Rueben in the waiting room unleashed a pang of longing so intense that Seth knew what he’d felt was real—past and present. He locked himself down tightly to keep from reacting, but his efforts must’ve been too severe because Lyndhurst had told him to save the mean mugging for the interrogation room once they were alone in his office. At least Lyndhurst wasn’t privy to the lusty thoughts Seth hid behind his stony visage. Not even seeing Rueben hold hands with someone else had dimmed his desire. Regret was a barbed-wire noose around Seth’s neck and total overkill. The rope would’ve been enough to get the job done without wrapping it in razor wire, just as his existing emotional strife stole enough of his sleep without adding more to the mix.

Seth pulled into the lot and drove around to the back to park by the dumpster. Not like the owners would have him towed. Seth wished he could drink a cold beer or two at the bar while he waited for his food, but he still wore his gun and badge. It wouldn’t matter to onlookers that he was off duty, if such a thing existed for a sheriff. And he sure as hell wouldn’t risk locking his badge and gun in his glove box. With his current unlucky streak, someone would break into his truck and steal them. He’d look unfit to hold the sheriff’s office with five months to go in his reelection bid. The shit with Salvation Anew had left him in a precarious position with his constituents, but the dust had seemed to have settled in his favor after the joint task force apprehended Mick and Quinton Carson. Then he’d gone and jeopardized everything for three nights of mindless pleasure with Rueben. He should regret it, but damned if he could muster the energy, and he just didn’t fucking want to anyway. As far as he knew, they were in the clear, and Rueben had obviously moved on with Keegan.

Seth ignored the slight pang at the thought and forced himself out of the truck, mentally placing his order as he strode toward the building. The sun was putting itself to bed when he left the sheriff’s department, and long shadows stretched over the employee’s parking area. His aunt and uncle hadn’t dedicated as much attention to exterior lighting in the back as they did in the front, something else he should discuss with them. There were too many places someone could lie in wait. Debbie and Rick didn’t have children of their own and viewed their staff as family. Keeping them safe should be at the top of their priorities. Some would blame Seth’s military and law enforcement services for his jaded tendencies, but the lessons had started the summer he turned thirteen. The Burkes and Harts still navigated the aftermath of their sudden and tragic loss twenty-five years later. There were anniversaries you loved to celebrate and some that flayed you to the bone. This weekend was the latter, and Seth desperately needed a break.

The lighting situation improved when he rounded the corner of the building, and the tension eased in his shoulders. The bass from the music reached him on the sidewalk, but he couldn’t tell what genre was on tap for the night. His aunt and uncle jumped around to keep things interesting and played the music just loud enough to set a fun atmosphere. No one wanted to scream across the table to their companion or have anything pull focus from the extraordinary food. The logo on the front of the door always made him smile. The bull wore an expression that was both feisty and fierce, which made him think of Rueben. Seth would not be fooled by his quick wit and laid-back persona. He’d seen the fierceness in his expression when he thought Keegan was upset, and he also witnessed his smug pride when his boyfriend stood up to Lyndhurst. The Keegan he first met would’ve never questioned the prosecutor’s intentions, and Seth figured much of the credit went to Rueben and the rest of the Redemption Ridge crew. For the second time in mere minutes, he forced his thoughts away from Rueben.

Seth opened the door and stepped inside a building that had represented many things to him. So many memories—the good, the bad, and the downright ugly—connected him to this one place that helped shape the man he’d become. At thirty-eight, the restaurant served up the comfort food that kept him going on his most stressful days. He used to recite items on the menu when he served in Iraq and Afghanistan in his early twenties. Seth bussed tables and washed dishes during high school to earn extra money. Aunt Debbie was the first person he’d come out to back then, and she’d kept Seth’s secret until he felt comfortable being open and honest with everyone in the family.

The Feisty Bull became a command center when his sixteen-year-old cousin Natalie, Kerry’s older sister, disappeared. Seth had been thirteen at the time, and Kerry had been twelve. They’d been the last family members to see her when she dropped them off in Last Chance Creek to get ice cream and play video games. Their families had spread maps on the dining tables and organized volunteers into search groups when the sheriff’s department refused to get involved. They’d treated her as a runaway because Seth had seen her get into a rusty blue pickup truck with a Pearl Jam bumper sticker on the rear window and a faded logo for a plumbing company on the door. Seth had insisted until he was blue in the face that Natalie had planned to come back, but the condescending sheriff hadn’t listened. The search teams were successful, but it had been too late for Natalie, something he’d never forgotten and would never forgive.

Buildings didn’t just have four walls and a roof; they pulsed with life and memories every bit as real as the country music thumping through the speakers when he stepped inside the restaurant. Since the Feisty Bull was the only watering hole and eatery close by, his aunt and uncle had tried to accommodate everyone’s needs. A gorgeous bar acted as a divider between the two unique dining spaces. To the left was a dining room with cloth-covered tables and an enormous stone fireplace acting as the focal point. Stunning artwork painted by local artists adorned the walls, the music volume was quieter, and softer lighting invited patrons to linger and converse over a meal.

To the right was the exact opposite setting. Instead of smooth oak boards, they used repurposed barn planks that contrasted nicely with the neon signs advertising local breweries and wineries. The lighting was darker, the music louder, and all but one of the many televisions broadcast local and national sports. His aunt Debbie had insisted that at least one screen feature shows from her favorite home improvement networks and display the chosen questions on trivia night. They hadn’t followed the karaoke craze at the height of its popularity, but Uncle Rick had mentioned making room for the equipment and a mock stage in one corner of the room. Seth bit back a groan at the thought. He’d need them to create an online ordering option and a drive-up carryout window if karaoke came to the Feisty Bull.

He greeted the hostess by her first name and gestured to the bar when she scanned the dining room for a spot to put him. “I won’t be long.”

The bar was a massive rectangular island of gleaming wood, sparkling glassware, every liquor imaginable, and ornate taps featuring the popular national brands along with the local brews. Stools lined the entire perimeter except for the small gap that allowed the bartenders to enter and exit. Kerry was behind the bar pulling beers when Seth claimed the last vacant stool. His cousin looked up and gave him a roguish smile. His black hair was longer than usual, almost brushing his shoulders, and his dark eyes sparkled with familiar mischief that always spelled trouble. Seth didn’t know what had put that devilish gleam in his cousin’s eyes, but he knew he didn’t want any part of it.

“Hey, cousin,” Kerry said.

“Don’t start with me,” Seth warned. “Not after the day I’ve had.”

Kerry released the tap and held up both hands in surrender. “Gee, Sheriff. I didn’t do anything.”

The guy to his right chuckled and took a drink of his beer. Seth wasn’t much in the mood for socializing, so he kept his attention focused on Kerry. If he had a modicum of energy left, he’d try to figure out what was making his cousin strut like a fucking rooster behind the bar.

“Isn’t someone in need of rescuing tonight?” Seth’s snide tone only made his cousin’s grin broaden. Who did this asshole think he was? The Grinch? The Joker? Kerry was built like a freaking superhero with broad shoulders and ripped muscles, which he used to operate Hart’s Creek Rescue. Natalie’s tragic death propelled several family members into a life of service. Seth’s sister Shawna was an EMT, and several of his cousins were firefighters. Kerry took it a step further and founded an organization that rescued the stranded, injured, and lost. Seth was beyond proud of his cousin, but that didn’t stop him from busting his chops now and then.

Kerry shrugged a massive shoulder. “Just felt like this is where I needed to be right now.” He found comfort in their aunt and uncle’s restaurant, too, and often picked up bartending shifts whenever they were short-staffed or he needed to decompress and connect in happier ways. Since they were on the eve of his sister’s disappearance and murder, it made sense Kerry would navigate there.

“What ten-year-old did you borrow that shirt from?”

Kerry greeted the dig with laughter as he returned to filling drink orders. When he caught up, he sauntered over to stand in front of Seth with an order pad. “Do you want the usual?”

“I don’t have a usual.” He loved everything on the menu.

A black brow shot up. “You’ll have a cheesesteak with extra mushrooms and mayo and a double portion of Parmesan fries to go.” He tilted his head to the side and studied Seth for a few seconds. He grimaced and sucked air through his teeth like a reverse hiss. “I can’t decide if you’re in the mood for plain cheesecake or a slice of chocolate pecan pie.”

Seth hadn’t factored dessert into his plans, but sometimes Kerry had the right idea. “Both. I’ll save one for another day.” When his cousin’s lips curved into a cocky grin, Seth added, “And you don’t know me that well.”

Kerry snorted. “I know you better than you know yourself, just as you can say the same about me. The kitchen is swamped, so it might be a while before your order is ready. Want something to drink?”

Seth would give just about anything for a cold beer, but he settled for a Coke.

“Hitting it awfully hard,” teased the guy on his right.

Seth forced a smile on his face and turned his head, reminding himself it was a reelection year, and it wouldn’t hurt him to be cordial. “I’d prefer a cold beer, but not while it looks like I’m on duty.”

The man wore his Colorado Rockies ball cap low on his forehead, covering most of his hair and putting the upper half of his face in shadow. The lower half sported a pretty severe case of razor burn as if he’d shaved his face in a hurry. The hair sticking out from beneath the hat looked platinum blond or white, but it was hard to say in the light. The televisions in the rustic dining area seemed to have the guy’s full attention, so Seth tucked his smile away. The stranger had chuckled at the banter between cousins and remarked about his drink choice, but when Seth gave him the attention he craved, the guy averted his gaze. Why was that? Pinpricks of unease made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, though the man had done nothing wrong. Seth silently chastised himself for acting like a fool. He was exhausted, stretched too thin, and looking for danger lurking in shadows, even the kind cast by a simple ball cap.

The stranger pointed to the wall of televisions. “Hey. Isn’t that you?”

Kerry stopped in front of Seth and set his soda on the bar in front of him. “Sorry, cuz.”

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