The Fortunate Son (Redemption Ridge Book Two), page 1
The Fortunate Son (Redemption Ridge Book Two)
Copyright © 2023 Aimee Nicole Walker
aimeenicolewalker@blogspot.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to the actual person, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover photo © Wander Aguiar – www.wanderaguiar.com
Cover design © Jay Aheer – www.simplydefinedart.com
Interior design and formatting provided by Stacey Ryan Blake of Champagne Book Design – www.champagnebookdesign.com
Editing provided by Susie Selva – www.susieselva.com
Proofreading provided by Lori Parks – lp.nerdproblems@gmail.com
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original publisher only.
This book is intended for adult readers only.
Copyright and Trademark Acknowledgments:
The author acknowledges the copyrights and trademarked status and trademark owners of the trademarks and copyrights mentioned in this work of fiction.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Other Books by Aimee Nicole Walker
Acknowledgments
About Aimee Nicole Walker
Tires crunching on gravel pulled Ivan’s attention away from building a beehive. His newest queen was due to arrive next weekend, and he wanted to be sure her castle was good enough to suit Her Royal Highness. Happy bees produced unrivaled liquid gold, and the many awards and ribbons Redemption Ridge had won validated his logic. His ambitious goals were within his grasp, and the newest hive should see him across the finish line. Ivan’s competitive streak had been present since birth, but he would’ve laughed himself silly if someone had told him he’d someday be more passionate about making honey than playing football. But it was true as hell. Nothing made him happier than researching better ways to keep his bees safe and make the hives sustainable while producing the highest quality honey.
Fuck, I need a life, and I need to get laid. Probably the same damn thing, but he’d settle for one at the moment.
With one last glance at the hive, Ivan headed out of the barn to greet Kieran and Finley. Word had cycled through the ranch that Kieran’s auto-theft conviction had been overturned. Ivan was eager to help them celebrate, though he had to plaster a grumpy expression on his face so Kieran didn’t realize he’d won Ivan’s favor. He enjoyed keeping Kieran on his toes to ensure the guy treated Finley with the respect he deserved. He’d once had a major crush on Finley, the blond horse trainer who stole everyone’s hearts upon introduction. Ivan had thought his adoration was love once, but it only took seeing Kieran and Finley together to fully understand that he hadn’t stood a snowball’s chance in hell. Those two were made for one another, and Ivan loved Finley like a dear friend. The realization hadn’t eased the loneliness gripping Ivan’s heart, but getting over the disappointment was easier knowing his friend was so happy.
A glance to the right revealed a somber-looking gray sedan with government plates instead of Finley’s truck. Ivan quickly recognized the car belonged to Cash’s FBI buddy, Agent Nick Scott. Well, Special Agent in Charge now, whatever the hell that meant. Ivan had never cared for the slick guy, but Cash trusted him. If he were honest, he suspected his mentor’s feelings ran deeper than friendship, but it wasn’t Ivan’s place to poke his nose into Cash’s business. He owed everything to Cash Sweeney, and prying felt disloyal, a trait no one would ever associate with Ivan Gallagher. He kept his gait nice and steady as he crossed the yard toward the gathered group, noting Cash wasn’t among them.
From his periphery, Ivan saw the driver’s side door open, and he turned his head just enough to confirm the visitor was Nick Scott. But something was off about the man. Ivan continued forward but glanced in Nick’s direction again. His posture was less erect and more slouched. He didn’t quite remind Ivan of a scolded dog, but there was a rounded hunch in Nick’s shoulders that wasn’t usually present. Was this an official visit? Cash could’ve invited him to the cookout since he’d helped to bring down the auto-theft ring, which had spawned Kieran’s exoneration. But no. Nick’s demeanor was off for a friendly visit.
The fed ducked down and looked back inside the car, diverting Ivan’s attention there too. Sunlight glinted off the windshield so he couldn’t see who was sitting in the passenger seat, but it felt like the person’s interest centered on Ivan. Maybe his imagination was working overtime, but he’d swear he felt the weight of the person’s stare. Nick’s lips moved, but Ivan couldn’t hear what he said until he barked out something that sounded like, “Rory!”
Ivan reached the edge of the gathering under the tent and turned his full attention to the sedan. The passenger door swung open, and a man of medium height stepped out of the vehicle. He had dark hair, a trimmed beard, tan skin, and light eyes zeroed in on Ivan. So it hadn’t been his imagination. The stranger, Rory perhaps, curved his lips into a sly smile as they continued to stare at one another. Ivan hadn’t fabricated the man’s interest before, and there was no mistaking it now.
Something responded deep in his belly, an ignored urge unfurling and awakening. The stranger was stunning, and he fucking knew it. Five months had passed since the last time Ivan had used his Grindr app, and it was starting to take a toll on his body. Thankfully, he had business meetings in Denver in a week, and he’d get ample opportunity to find a hookup. He imagined spotting someone like this guy at a bar or night club and walking over to introduce himself. Ivan could buy him a drink, lead him to a dark corner, and tell the sexy stranger what he wanted to do with his pretty mouth, among other things. They could leave together without finishing their drinks and head some place close. Ivan would keep every dirty promise he’d made in the dark. And if it was as good as Ivan pictured in his brain, they would start from the top and do it all over again at least one more time before parting ways.
But that side of Ivan only existed in his fantasies. He would find a horny guy looking for a hookup on the app, bend him over, and fuck out his frustration until they were both spent. Then he’d dress and leave. The encounter wouldn’t vanquish Ivan’s loneliness, but it would smooth the edges until the ache became too great to ignore once again. Kind of like the need now pulsing below his belt and gathering steam the longer he stared at the beautiful stranger who’d just arrived at the ranch.
Look away, idiot. This isn’t a bar, and your crew is watching.
The reminder should’ve been enough to make Ivan look away, but he continued staring into mesmerizing blue eyes that enticed him to be the brave man in his fantasies. A quick glance at Agent Scott revealed a man who looked on the edge of losing his cool with his sidekick. The entire situation was puzzling. “Who the hell is that?” Ivan thought he’d asked in his head until Dylan, his best friend and the ranch’s K9 trainer, chuckled and slapped him on the shoulder.
Ivan had been too entranced by the dark-haired stranger and the evocative fantasy he’d imagined to even notice Dylan had moved to stand beside him. When Ivan stepped out of the barn, his buddy was flipping something on the grill while chatting with Harry, the ranch’s domestic goddess, Finley’s older sister, and the object of Dylan’s desire.
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Dylan said, giving Ivan an exaggerated once-over. “I hardly recognized you.” He lifted his hand and messed up Ivan’s freshly styled hair. “You said you were getting a haircut at lunch. You said nothing about going for a new look. The fade looks nice and tight and so does your chin bush. I like it.”
Ivan stepped away and used his fingers to fix the strands Dylan messed up. He resisted running his hands over his shorter beard. He’d asked Danielle to tidy it, but she’d shorn a few inches off the length. Ivan’s sideburns and cheek lines looked sharp enough to cut glass. He’d asked her to shake things up and had given her free rein, and he’d loved the results. Ivan had left the barbershop feeling great about himself, but Dylan’s comments made him feel self-conscious and maybe a little foolish. Who had he been trying to impress? “Then stop finger-fucking it,” he groused. “Let me have nice hair for a few hours.” There was no way in hell he’d ever get it to look this good again. “Danielle used a round brush and a blow dryer to style the swoop on the top. I can’t replicate that.”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “Can’t really isn’t a word in your vocabulary.”
“I just said it.”
Unfazed, Dylan said, “You could learn to style your hair like that if you wanted to, but you don’t, so you won’t.”
Ivan appreciated the vote of confidence, but it looked like too much trouble. Not only would he have to dry and style the top simultaneously, he’d have to put a product in it to fin
Dylan snorted and leaned closer. “And you’re saving up your strength for other things.”
Ivan chuckled and elbowed his friend. “Shut up, man.”
“I get it,” Dylan said. He darted a glance in Harry’s direction and released a forlorn sigh that made Ivan’s heart hurt. “Trust me, I do. I’m just saying you could totally pull this hairstyle off. Great look by the way.”
“Thanks,” Ivan said, suddenly feeling shy.
He looked back toward the newcomers and discovered the dark-haired man was still staring at him, but then again, he’d already known it. Ivan couldn’t recall another time he’d been so aware of another person, let alone a perfect stranger. A dark flush stained the man’s cheeks. Was it hunger? Shame? A darted glance between Dylan and Ivan and he understood, though he couldn’t explain how. This guy, Rory, was jealous of their interaction or at least irritated by it. Possessive. He’d misread Dylan’s familiarity as something more intimate, but he couldn’t be more wrong. What right did this interloper have to feel possessive about Ivan? And why the hell did he want to cross the divide between them and clear the air?
Ivan took an involuntary step back. Then another. He willed his feet to still, to not surrender his ground. The stranger took two steps forward and ran into Agent Scott’s forearm when he swung it up in front of him like a crossing gate. When Rory turned to argue with the federal agent, it broke their eye contact, and Ivan felt like someone had lifted a weight off his chest. The two men looked as if they were about to throw fists when Cash exited the house and approached them at a fast pace.
“This is getting very interesting,” Dylan said. “There’s something kind of familiar about the guy with Agent Scott, but I can’t place him.” He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips as he studied them. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say these guys argue like family. Only an older brother would block you from introducing yourself—ass first—to the sexy dude you’ve been eye-fucking for ten minutes.”
Had they really stood there that long? “Hardy har har,” Ivan said dryly. “For someone so astute, how is it you haven’t noticed the woman you’ve been pining over for years returns your feelings?”
“Bullshit,” Dylan said, though he cast a glance in Harry’s direction. The stunning redhead was talking to her mother and stepfather, Hope and Gary Newton.
“Dude, she’s made your favorite dishes for the past ten dinners in a row,” Ivan replied. Then he turned his attention back to the gathering across the driveway in time to see Cash approach the duo. The rancher stopped and assessed Nick with a puzzled expression on his face before closing the distance and hugging his friend. Cash had noticed there wasn’t something quite right about Nick Scott too.
“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, I hear,” Ivan said. Not that anyone made that kind of effort for him. His best friend made a noncommittal noise he barely registered when Cash hugged Rory instead of shaking his hand. The smile on Cash’s face indicated Rory was someone his mentor knew well and liked a lot. Agent Scott’s expression was unreadable except for his tightly clinched jaw as he too watched the interaction. Something unfamiliar and unwelcome gripped Ivan’s heart with icy tentacles. Did his eyes burn with the same intensity Rory’s had when he’d assumed things about his relationship with Dylan?
Surely not. Dylan’s deep guffaw said surely yes. Son of a bitch. The quicker these guys left, the sooner he could get on with his day and put this incident behind him. But Cash gestured for Nick and Rory to follow him inside the large ranch house, and Ivan got a gut feeling the trouble was just getting started. Cash and Nick led the way, chatting like usual, leaving the troublemaker to follow behind at a leisurely pace. Nothing in his gait showed distress or concern. His posture, demeanor, and stride screamed troublemaking brat as did the cute little five-finger waggle he sent in Ivan’s direction.
“Dude wants in your pants,” Dylan said.
Ivan turned away from the sexy distraction to glare at his friend. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Me?” Dylan asked in disbelief. “What’s wrong with you? I could distract everyone so you could give your future friend a private tour and—” His words died at Ivan’s glare. “Just helping my buddy out. It’s been months since you went away for a weekend to recharge.”
“I’m well aware of how long it’s been. Maybe you should worry about yourself.” A light blush stole across Dylan’s cheeks, and Ivan studied his friend closer. The longer he stared, the pinker Dylan’s cheeks got. “Wait a minute.” He darted a glance toward Harry, who was blissfully unaware of his scrutiny. “Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?”
Dylan cleared his throat and darted a nervous glance in Harry’s direction. “I’m not telling you anything.”
“Which says everything I need to know.” Guys talked about their conquests until they met someone special. Then they clammed up and apparently blushed like a virgin at a strip club. He wouldn’t pry, even if he was dying to. Ivan placed a hand on Dylan’s shoulder and said, “I’m happy for you.” He couldn’t keep his smirk from spreading into a wolfish smile. “And now the nightly ode to Dylan makes sense.”
His friend’s face went from blushing pink to beet red, and he hastily excused himself to check on the grill. “Shut up,” he snarled when Ivan waggled his brows.
Dylan and Harry, huh? Finally. It had been more than a year in the making, and he couldn’t understand what had taken them so long. He watched his friend pass Harry and her parents and caught the way his hand brushed against the small of her back and how she leaned into his touch. The sigh that escaped Ivan’s lips sounded just as pitiful as the one Dylan had released earlier. That gave Ivan pause. Why had his friend sounded like a lovesick puppy? The answer came swiftly. Dylan wanted to tell the world Harry was his, but one of them—or maybe both—had decided it wasn’t the right time yet.
Ivan’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket before he could give the pair more thought. He retrieved it and saw the text was from Cash, requesting Ivan’s presence in his office. He groaned, then tapped out a quick response to let the boss know he was on his way. Ivan returned his phone to his pocket and headed toward the house. Apparently, the business with Agent Scott and his guest involved Ivan or at least the ranch. Cash looked surprised to see Nick and Rory, so this had to be something else. But what? Witness protection? Nah. That type of arrangement would’ve come from a US Marshal, and they wouldn’t stash a witness among convicted felons—reformed or not.
“Hey,” Dylan called out as Ivan passed by. “You get called in there?”
“Yeah. Cash didn’t say why.”
Dylan pursed his lips. “New guy?”
“Don’t think so. He didn’t mention anything about a new recruit to me earlier, and all the cabins are full.” Whatever was going on in Cash’s office spelled big trouble.
“Keep me posted,” Dylan said.
“Will do.”
Dread tightened Ivan’s body with each step he took closer to the house. He was wound like a coiled spring when he entered the grandiose foyer with the huge wrought iron chandelier hanging overhead. Familiar laughter echoed from down the hall, and Ivan headed toward the sound. Clearly, Cash wasn’t distressed about the subject of Nick’s visit. His office was on the other side of the home, so he had to navigate the long corridor that led to the rear of the house. He turned left once he reached the great room and kitchen area, then slammed to a stop. They had left Rory to his own devices in the kitchen, and he was rummaging through a bowl of fruit on the counter.
Rory leaned against the counter with the same lackadaisical negligence as he walked, like he didn’t have a care in the entire world. It felt like a weird thing to think. Was he now judging people by the way they walked and leaned against a counter? Irritation prickled Ivan’s skin and made the hair on his arms stand at attention. Yeah, that’s what he was going with. Irritation, not desire. Once again, Ivan’s feet seemingly moved of their own volition, leading him closer to the kitchen and not the hallway that would take him to Cash’s office.
