Chapter One

"You're doing it again," Rueben admonished softly.

"Sorry." Keegan stilled and exhaled a heavy sigh. "I'm just so nervous."

Rueben kept his gaze on the magazine. He'd been staring at the same page for the past fifteen minutes but hadn't read a single word. Keegan wasn't the only Nervous Nelly in the waiting room at the prosecutor's office. Rueben just didn't want to untangle his emotions until he was alone in his cabin. "I've never seen anyone's legs bounce like that."

"It's been nine months since the arrests," Keegan said. "Why call us in for a meeting now?"

"Your knees started out like twin kangaroos hopping in tandem but somehow got out of rhythm. Your right leg bounced higher and faster than the left. How's that even possible?"

Keegan released a cute little growl of frustration. "Are you listening to a single word I've said?"

Rueben lowered the magazine and turned to face his friend. The hazel eyes snapping with irritation were much preferred to the lifeless gaze Keegan wore nine months ago. Full, rosy cheeks filled out his previously gaunt face, and cinnamon freckles dusted sun-kissed skin that had once been sickly pale. The walking dead looked more alive than Keegan had when he first stepped onto the ranch. But Keegan's biggest transformations occurred under the skin and weren't visible to the naked eye. He'd dedicated himself to his recovery from the nightmares he'd endured during conversion therapy on the Salvation Anew compound, and Rueben didn't want Keegan to wade back into unnecessary weeds by obsessing over things he couldn't control, such as prosecuting the people who'd committed the crimes against him. "Seriously, man. Were your knees racing or something?"

Keegan's mouth parted on a gasp. "That's what you're worried about?"

"Well, no," Rueben said. "I have bigger things on my mind." Keegan wasn't the only one who wanted Mick and Quinton Carson to stand trial sooner rather than later. Rueben had serious skin in the game too. He quickly diverted his thoughts away from who he wanted to rub said flesh against because the typical reaction wouldn't be welcome in public. He turned his magazine to face Keegan and pointed to a handsome guy with similar color hair and fade style. "Do you think I'd look good with those highlights? I'm kind of in a rut and could use a refresh."

Keegan stared at him for several moments, his lips parted in disbelief, before he snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. "I know what you're doing."

Rueben smiled and waggled his brows. "And is it working?"

Keegan heaved an exasperated sigh. "Yes. I'll direct my questions to Prosecutor Lyndhurst instead of internalizing my worries and feeding my anxiety monster."

Rueben's heart swelled with pride. "On a scale of terror, are we talking about a gremlin or Godzilla here?"

The exterior door opened before he could answer, and Keegan's eyes widened briefly. A frisson of awareness licked a path up Rueben's spine like a lover's tongue, and his nerve endings sizzled like bacon in a hot skillet. He knew who entered the waiting room before the faint hints of lime and mint tickled his senses. Seth Burke's bodywash reminded Rueben of a mojito, and the man himself was much more intoxicating than white rum, and he should know since he was still hungover nine months later after their wild and reckless weekend together.

"Good morning, Phaedra. I'm here to see Prosecutor Lyndhurst."

The sheriff's rich voice triggered memories of Seth's weight pressing him into the mattress and whispering dirty talk in his ear to spur him to climax when Rueben had wanted to delay the tide of pleasure. The sensory overload punted him back nine months to the rustic cabin they'd hidden away in after Rueben survived a near-death experience and Seth thwarted a homegrown terrorist plot. A relationship between a sheriff and a victim or potential trial witness was off-limits. Seth had made that clear when they'd parted ways early on the Monday after, but the longing in his gray eyes after their last shared kiss spoke louder than words ever could. Rueben had understood the stakes and didn't want to see Mick and Quinton Carson walk free on a technicality or have a jury reach a not-guilty verdict because they couldn't trust the investigators. So Rueben planted his desires deep into a fertile garden of hope and tended to it with memories from that one perfect weekend whenever his soul needed TLC.

Phaedra was in her early thirties and peered at Seth with cartoon character heart eyes. Rueben couldn't blame her, but he wanted to growl out a warning for the lady to back away from his man. "Mr. Lyndhurst is wrapping up a phone call and shouldn't be much longer."

That was the same thing she'd told them almost twenty minutes ago, but Rueben embraced his annoyance to avoid engaging other emotions. The prosecutor's office was not an appropriate place to let his fantasies of Seth run rampant. He rattled his magazine to pull Keegan's attention back to the photo of the cutie with the sun-kissed streaks in his hair.

"Highlights, yes or no?"

Keegan darted a glance in Burke's direction before meeting Rueben's gaze. "I think a change would do you good."

All the guys on the ranch knew about his weekend with Seth, but Rueben only discussed the torturous war waging inside him with Keegan. To want someone so badly and connect with them on the deepest levels, only to have them ripped away, was a cruel punishment to pay for someone else's crimes. Salvation Anew's plans and attacks had affected everyone on the ranch, but Keegan and Rueben had taken the brunt of their rage. The two of them had bonded over their shared experiences and the fact that they were the only two unattached people living on Redemption Ridge. Keegan's therapist didn't want him dating until he'd worked deeper into his recovery process, and Rueben couldn't have the only man he wanted.

Cocking his head to the side, Kee studied the magazine page for a second. "Maybe caramel highlights for a more natural look." His lips quivered and curved into a wry smile. "Unless boy band member is the style you're going for."

Rueben reached over and ruffled Keegan's hair. "Caramel highlights it is. Twenty-five is too old for a boy band, though I have the moves to pull it off." His best friend snorted in disagreement, and Rueben lightly swatted Keegan with the magazine before putting it back on the table.

Seth's allure called him like a siren's song, but he avoided looking in his direction. But why? Running into one another in a small town was unavoidable. Rueben had always kept a tight leash on his emotions and offered Seth a cordial nod whenever their paths crossed. Seth would return the gesture with the slightest hint of a sly smile curving his lips. The sheriff's mirrored glasses hid the intensity in his gaze, but Rueben felt it as strongly as a lover's caress. He risked a glance in Seth's direction and noticed he'd taken the farthest seat away from them and had busied himself with his phone. Nothing about Seth's rigid posture resembled the affectionate man from his memories. For a moment, Rueben started to wonder if the echoes of shared laughter, kisses, and lovemaking were figments of his imagination instead of legitimate recollections.

Several more minutes ticked by with no relief from the rising tension in the room. Rueben's gaze kept darting to the corner to clock Seth's activity. Look up. Look at me. Just once.

When Keegan's legs started to bounce again, Rueben yanked his head out of his ass and placed a hand on his friend's knee. The shaking stopped immediately, and Keegan took a ragged breath.

"I'll find out how much longer," Rueben said.

But before he could stand up, the interior door next to the clerk's window opened. A woman dressed in a smart navy suit and matching pumps smiled at Rueben and Keegan. She wore her black hair in a sleek bun that accentuated her amazing bone structure. Full lips curved into a professional smile. "Mr. Sanchez and Mr. Scott?"

They stood up and introduced themselves and shook her hand.

"I'm Cynthia Dailey, Mr. Lyndhurst's assistant. I apologize for the delay, but he's ready to see you now." Rueben held out hope for a few seconds that Seth was having a separate meeting with the prosecutor, but that fizzled out when she looked to the corner of the room where he sat. "Join us, please, Sheriff Burke."

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—"

Keegan didn't wait for him to finish his answer before pressing forward. "And if your evidence is so solid, why would you want to offer a plea bargain?"

Rueben was so proud of his friend and gave his leg an assuring pat. He thought the gesture earned a slight tic in Seth's jaw but figured it was just wishful thinking on his part.

Lyndhurst's brow eased back down, and he offered a disarming smile. "You ask excellent questions."

The fatherly smile returned, and Reuben braced himself for dadsplaining. If the guy referred to either of them as son, Rueben would immediately leave. Daddy issues, anyone?

"We want the Carsons to help us locate the two members of Salvation Anew we've been unable to find." Keegan called them Brother Cain and Brother Abel, and just the reference to them made his best friend shiver. "A plea agreement provides a good incentive for them to help us. It also means swifter justice and avoiding a long, costly, and potentially embarrassing trial. A flush crept up Keegan's neck, and he narrowed his eyes. "Embarrassing for who? You surely don't mean me. I'm the victim. Nothing I did deserved their cruel treatment."

Lyndhurst shook his head and held up his hands, palms out. "Of course not. I misspoke. Triggering is a better term than embarrassing. The testimony might cause you undue harm."

"That's what I have a therapist for, Mr. Lyndhurst, which you would've known if you'd discussed the situation with me. I think you're more concerned about seating jury members who secretly agree that being gay is wrong and won't take their crimes against me seriously."

"No, no, son. Don't put words in my mouth."

Rueben rose to his feet and claimed Seth's attention for the first time. Gray eyes the color of a winter storm widened slightly before he lowered his gaze again. "Let's get out of here. This guy kept us waiting for nearly thirty minutes, and it's clear he doesn't care how we feel." Rueben applied the latter part to Seth too.

Keegan stood up, but they hadn't taken a single step before Lyndhurst shot to his feet.

"Please stay," the prosecutor said. "I've botched this completely, and I apologize." He gestured to the seats in front of his desk. "Won't you sit?"

Rueben and Keegan locked eyes for a few seconds before reclaiming the chairs.

Lyndhurst exhaled a long breath. "Thank you." He placed his elbows on the desk and steepled his hands, then tapped his forefingers against his chin a few times as he studied them. "I do care very much about what happened to you and getting justice for what the Carsons put you through. Mr. Scott, I'm very glad you're getting therapy and feel prepared to listen to testimony or possibly offer it during the trial, but the defense attorneys will be brutal. They're going to say a lot of harsh things to cast their clients in a better light."

"You mean like shifting the blame to me? I didn't enter that compound of my own free will. My options were to join my mother or lose everything—my family, my home, and my financial support. But even if I had joined freely, I never consented to the barbaric physical, mental, and sexual abuse they inflicted upon me. I will stand before anyone and speak my truth because I have nothing to be ashamed of, sir."

Rueben reached for Keegan's hand and squeezed it. His boo had grown up and was well on his way to being a fierce badass. Keegan rotated his wrist and laced their fingers together so Rueben felt the slight tremor ripple through him. Keegan's boldness had come at a price, but that only made Rueben prouder.

Lyndhurst studied Keegan for several moments before he nodded. "I underestimated you."

"Most people do. That's my superpower."

"You'll need to use that to your advantage if or when you take the stand." The prosecutor held his hand up before Keegan could respond. "If I get the chance to put the Carsons away for a long time through a plea deal, I'm going to take it. That's the best possible outcome for all involved—this office, the taxpayers, and both of you. I wear many hats and answer to many people, and I promise that I'm taking your concerns seriously."

"You can at least keep them informed about what's happening." Seth's rich voice drew Rueben's attention like a magnet, and he missed the prosecutor's response. Seth nodded curtly at Lyndhurst and kept his gaze there.

"That's good enough for me," Keegan said.

Rueben forced his gaze back to the prosecutor. He wasn't sure he trusted Lyndhurst, but Seth approved of his response, and so had Keegan. "For me as well."

Lyndhurst huffed a sigh. "Good, because if we can't reach a plea agreement with the defendants, this case could drag out for another two or three years."

Rueben's heart lurched, and his mouth gaped open in shock. He darted a helpless glance at Seth, urging him to do something, and this time, Rueben saw a definite tic in his jaw. The sexy sentinel in the corner offered nothing—not assurances or comfort. Just nothing. That minuscule negative reaction was the only animation in his stony visage. There was no doubt Seth would prefer swift justice, but Rueben hoped the disappointment was more personal than professional.

"Two or three years," Keegan whispered.

"That's common in high-profile cases like this one. The Carsons have excellent representation, and I anticipate the first volley of filings to delay the proceedings soon."

"Why?" Rueben asked.

"We have preliminary and evidentiary proceedings on the docket for next month. There is a bevy of reasons they could file for continuations, and I expect they'll exploit them all before we get to jury selection."

"But two or three years?" Keegan repeated.

Lyndhurst nodded. "We want a piece of the Carsons. Our attorney general wants to take a swing at them, and the federal prosecutors are salivating to get a chance, also. You've got three different court systems jockeying for position. There's a lot going on, which plays into the defense's hands. All they have to do is keep filing motions to delay the hearings and trials."

"Christ," Keegan said.

Seth raised his arm and rubbed the back of his neck but continued to ice Rueben out.

"So what happens next?" Rueben asked.

"We prepare like there will be a trial," Lyndhurst said. "At some point, we will begin prepping witnesses."

The prosecutor explained Rueben might not take the stand during the trial since he didn't see Quinton Carson cut the brake lines on the truck. They would rely on physical evidence and Keegan's testimony to tie him to that crime. "You would likely only address the court during the punishment phase if a jury convicts the Carsons."

"When, not if," Rueben corrected.

Lyndhurst smiled and nodded. "I like your confidence, Mr. Sanchez."

"I don't know how to be any other way, sir."

"Mr. Scott, your testimony will be integral to our prosecution, so we will spend a lot of time prepping you for trial."

"How will you do that?" Keegan asked.

"My clerks will run a mock trial to prepare you for the questions we'll ask during your testimony and those we predict the defense will pose during cross-examination. They'll want to blast holes in your testimony by any means necessary. They will imply through questioning that you consented to that heinous abuse, and they will also suggest another party coerced you into lying about Salvation Anew's activities."

"Coerced by who?" Keegan asked in disbelief.

Lyndhurst glanced at their joined hands and said, "It's clear you're close to the guys on Redemption Ridge. You live there now, correct?" When Keegan nodded, he continued. "They will try to twist your actions as proof you were desperate to fit in somewhere. You were weak and vulnerable, and Cash Sweeney and his crew took advantage—"

Keegan lunged to his feet. "That is not what happened."

Lyndhurst threw up his hands and patted the air in the classic gesture that never really calmed anyone down. "We know that, Mr. Scott, and I will do everything in my power to make sure the jury has to strike these nonsensical things from the record, but they can't unhear things. They might not admit that stricken testimony is factored in their verdict, but it could be. It is my job to dissect even the tiniest details of this case and prepare for every eventuality. The defense will do their best to ensure this case never gets in front of a jury. They'll look for any form of misconduct or coercion in the investigation, which we know they won't find." Lyndhurst dashed a smile at Seth, who somehow looked even stonier. "I fear that any attempt I've made to reassure you has backfired, and you probably doubt my abilities to try this case now. I promise today is the exception and not the rule, and I will endeavor to be more open as this process moves forward."

"Okay," Keegan said. "I can't get hung up on things I can't control. I just have to trust the process."

"I find your attitude refreshing, Mr. Scott."

Rueben barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the proud-papa expression. Like this guy had anything to do with Keegan's recovery. The dude better hope his bumbling performance during the meeting didn't cause a setback. Rueben stood up because he'd had all he could take. "Keep in touch."

"Will do."

Keegan stood up too, and they filed toward the door. Rueben heard Seth rise to his feet and hoped they could steal a few minutes of privacy to clear the frosty air between them.

"A word, Sheriff," Lyndhurst said.

"Of course." The relief in Seth's voice was palpable.

Rueben's heart sank, but he notched his chin higher and held it there as they retraced their steps to the front lobby. He nodded cordially at the lady in reception and opened the exterior door for Keegan. He kept his shit together until they were alone in the pickup truck. Two or three years without touching or kissing Seth? That was out of the question. They'd have to find a way to be together. Rueben recalled the private conversation Seth had with Cynthia and the way he refused to look at Rueben. Was he too late already? A hot flush rolled over his body as simmering frustration threatened to boil over. Rueben reached over to crank up the air-conditioning and noticed Keegan was trembling.

"Kee?"

Wounded hazel eyes met his, and Rueben's irritation melted into a puddle of goo. "Maybe I should move out. I don't want to give them ammunition to hurt anyone on the ranch."

"Nonsense. We're your family, and you're not going anywhere."

"First, the Carsons nearly killed you, and now they're cockblocking you," Keegan said.

"And we're done paying for their mistakes. Let me worry about the situation with Seth. You concentrate on healing." Rueben reached over and covered Keegan's hand. "I'm so damn proud of you. Fuck, you were amazing in there."

Keegan's cheeks turned rosy. "It felt good to stand up for myself."

"So just think how much fiercer you'll be by the time the trial rolls around." Please don't let it be two or three years. "You'll shred those dickheads on the stand."

Keegan's smile lit up his face and cleared the hurt from his gaze. "Hell yeah, I will."

"Let's go get an ice cream cone before we head back to the ranch."

"This day calls for a double scoop," Keegan said.

The ice cream parlor was teeming with teenagers since the local schools had let out the previous week. Rueben sent Cash a quick text to update him while they waited in line. Keegan chatted about the different flavor combos while he recalled feeding Seth butter pecan ice cream in bed. Rueben had teased him mercilessly about liking old people's flavors and called him abuelo, the Spanish translation for grandpa. That resulted in Seth proving just how young and virile he truly was, and Rueben learned butter pecan ice cream tasted so much better on Seth's tongue.

Keegan nudged him with his elbow. "Your turn, Rue."

"Two scoops of butter pecan."

They sat outside beneath an umbrella and ate their ice cream in silence while teenagers filed in and out of the parlor, laughing and joking with one another.

"Were you ever that innocent?" Rue asked Keegan on their way back to the truck.

"No. You?"

"Nope," Rueben said without hesitation. Then again, he remembered little about his life before the age of ten. Trauma had that effect on people.

Keegan looped his arm through Rueben's. "We can't turn back the clock. We only have right now. Let's not lose another second to wallowing."

"What do you have in mind?"

Keegan turned the ride back home into a karaoke session. They turned up the radio and sang along to the music. When his favorite Dua Lipa song came on, Keegan cranked the radio up louder and said, "There's your girl."

As much as he loved Taylor Swift, no one made him dance like Dua Lipa. They sang along with her "New Rules," and Keegan looked pointedly at him during some moments. Rueben had no desire to get over Seth, so he'd answer his calls, let him in, and happily get under him again.

They approached the curve that nearly claimed Rueben's life, and he couldn't help tensing his fingers around the steering wheel. He still had nightmares about going airborne over the edge of the steep hill. Reuben relived every bone-jarring second of crashing his way through the smaller trees before slamming into an oak that was thick enough to support the weight of Cash's truck. The only thing that prevented a full-blown panic attack each time he drove this stretch of road was to remember the way his sexy sheriff had come to his rescue. Seth had just left the ranch and was driving toward Rueben when he'd careened over the edge. Seth slid and tumbled his way down to the truck and stayed with him until help arrived. Rueben had been half out of his mind that night, but Seth's steady gaze and calm voice let him focus on the feel of the powerful hand holding his. Every time the tree creaked, Rueben would flirt with Seth to distract himself, and Seth flirted right back. It could've been a ploy to keep Rueben calm, but he was half in love with Seth before the rescue crew carried him up the mountainside on a backboard. He blamed adrenaline for his infatuation and racing pulse every time Seth came near, but the feelings kept getting stronger. It took weeks to wrap up the investigation, which allowed the Carsons to flee and avoid arrest. Since the crew was in danger, Seth spent a lot of time at the ranch, and it became obvious that he returned Rueben's interest.

And they'd spent one glorious weekend together after the Carsons' arrest before reality intruded. He had to believe those two nights and three days weren't the last he'd get to spend with Seth. Then again, everyone he'd loved left him in one form or another. That reminder kept him silent for the duration of the trip home. Sensing his mood, Keegan turned the radio back down and quietly sang along. Tyler and Owen were waiting for them when they pulled up next to the barn. The guys were headed to Denver for the weekend to attend a Kenny Chesney concert and were probably eager to get on the road.

Keegan hopped out of the truck and hurried to them for hugs. Rueben didn't hear their conversation, but it was brief. Keegan was practically bouncing with nervous energy or sugar overload from the chocolate lover's ice cream combo he'd chosen. He'd probably hit the bags and crash afterward. Rueben needed a quiet space to decompress. Tyler and Owen rounded the hood of his truck and stopped by his door. He kept his gaze out the windshield but rolled down the window.

"What did he do?" The growl in Tyler's voice was more kitten than tiger, but Rueben loved his loyalty. He also didn't need to ask who Ty was talking about because there was only one person who could rattle Rueben this way.

"It's what he didn't do." Rueben didn't recognize the weariness in his own voice. He didn't do poor, poor pitiful me.

"Okay. What didn't Burke do?" Owen asked. His growl was all tiger.

"He was there for the meeting, though I'm not sure why. Burke sat in the prosecutor's office like a silent sentinel and looked right through me. He acted like we'd never kissed and that he didn't know the way I—" He stopped and shook his head.

Tyler reached inside the truck and squeezed Rueben's shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

"Me too, Rue," Owen said. "Maybe it's time to move on from him."

Rue met their gaze, and determination sparked in his soul. "Are you kidding me?" He smiled at the men he loved like brothers. "It's time for me to show that stubborn mule that I'm the keeper. Now, go on and get. Enjoy your weekend, and be careful."

Tyler and Owen exchanged another glance, earning a scornful snort from Rueben.

"I mean it, punks. I'm fine, or I will be once I put together a plan to get my man back."

"If you're sure," Tyler said, backing away.

Rueben rolled his eyes and pressed the button to raise the window. Tyler and Owen looked at him for a few seconds before they walked toward their truck. That little spark of defiance fizzled out in a poof of smoke, and exhaustion washed over him. He'd talked a big game about winning Seth Burke's heart, but his cold indifference had blasted a Buick-sized crater in his larger-than-life bravado. Rueben got out of the truck and headed to his cabin to lick his wounds in private. He'd come out swinging once he recharged his batteries, but he needed to sit with his hurt and disillusionment until then. He'd attempted to bury pain in the past, but he'd only suffered longer and harder for it. So, he'd accept discomfort, dissect his past interactions with Seth, and come up with a game plan to prove they belonged together.

A few hours later, he'd run through a gauntlet of emotions and added hungry and horny to the mix but was no closer to a Seth Burke solution. Reuben checked his watch and noticed it was almost time for dinner. He didn't feel like eating with the crew because he wasn't ready to answer their questions about the meeting. He wondered if Keegan would be interested in skipping the inquisition too. Rueben pulled out his phone and tapped out a quick message. How does a steak dinner at The Feisty Bull sound? My treat.

Keegan's response was immediate. I'll meet you at the truck.