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Cash slapped his shoulder and turned his attention to Kieran, who watched the rancher intently. “I’m leaving you in competent hands, but please come find me if you need anything.”
Kieran responded with a nod and shifted his full attention to Finley, dismissing Cash before he’d even walked away.
“Okay,” Finley said. “First, we need to get you out of those clothes.”
A dark brow shot up. “Excuse me?” Kieran’s voice was soft but menacing.
Just when Finley thought his day couldn’t get worse.Jesus, Finley. Pull it together.“And into proper work attire,” he replied. “Didn’t Cash offer you a change of clothes?”
“Yes, but I declined.”
Finley attempted a friendly smile but feared it looked more like a grimace. “I’m afraid I’ll need to insist.” The dark-haired man narrowed his eyes, and Finley could see he would be a stubborn one. He lifted a hand to stave off any protest. “The last thing you want is for a horse to step on your feet while you’re wearing flip-flops. It’s a liability issue I can’t allow. I’m not looking to take away your individualism, but the rules are in place to protect everyone.”
Kieran exhaled a long sigh. “Lead the way.”
The general store was larger than a shed but smaller than a barn. Rows of jeans, flannels, thermal underwear and undershirts in every color and size were stacked neatly on the shelves along the rear wall. Racks of underwear and socks for every season were on the left of the room, and a shoe store’s worth of boots was to the right. Head protection, ranging from cowboy hats to knitted beanies and ball caps, was also available for the ranch hands.
Kieran’s gaze swept the room before landing on Finley again. “I can choose anything I want?” Kieran’s expression was locked down tight, but he couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice. And the coyote howled louder.
Finley nodded and fought off the urge to cover his ears, though it wouldn’t do him any good since the soul-piercing sounds were internal, not external. He’d just have to learn to tune them out. “We mark the sizes on the shelves or packaging. Pick out whatever you like and jot it down on the clipboard here,” he said, walking over to where it hung on the wall. “Makes inventory for tax purposes easier.”
Kieran glanced around the room again. “I’m not sure what size I wear now. I’m leaner in some places and bulkier in others.” His comment invited Finley to peruse his body, but he ignored the urge.
“Maybe start with a size or two up or down from what you’re wearing now,” Finley suggested.
Kieran grabbed the hem of his shirt, lifted it over his head, and dropped it to the floor. Finley’s cheeks went up in flames as he tried his best not to ogle Kieran’s ripped torso. Finley would bet his pecs, cut abs, and bulging biceps fell into the larger category. God, what he wouldn’t give to nuzzle his face against Kieran’s chest hair. It was the perfect amount—just enough for him to pet and create the perfect friction against his sensitive nipples. When Kieran reached for his waistband, Finley emitted a strangled sound.
The dark-haired god stopped and jerked his head in Finley’s direction. “Problem?”
“No,” Finley replied, but his squeaky voice said otherwise. He cleared his throat and pointed to a door in the corner. “There’s a dressing room if you—”
Kieran unbuttoned and unzipped his cargo shorts and let them fall to the ground. “I don’t have issues with modesty.”
“Clearly,” Finley said, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice or his gaze from roaming over Kieran’s body. The man had thick, hairy thighs and lean hips. His underwear were no longer whitey, but they were definitely tighty. And thin. Kieran’s black pubic hair was visible through the fabric, and Finley wanted to nuzzle his nose in the thatch.
“You don’t have a moment of privacy in jail,” Kieran explained, “so you get used to dressing, undressing, and, well, doing everything in front of someone else.”
Everything? Finley couldn’t seem to stop his thoughts from becoming lurid. He swallowed hard and forced his gaze up to meet Kieran’s eyes. “That sounds awful.” Why did he have to sound as breathy as a Hollywood starlet?
Kieran’s expression hardened, and he shrugged. “All part of doing time for the crime.” Though his words were flippant, his voice was thick with bitterness. Kieran kicked his flip-flops free and walked toward the shelf with the jeans. Finley could have bounced a quarter off his ass. Now that was a drinking game he could get behind.
“I’ll just step outside and leave you to get dressed. You might not be used to having privacy, but you deserve it.”
Kieran turned and looked at him over his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t.”
“Maybe you could jot down what I take off the shelves while I get dressed so we finish quicker.”
“Someone is sure eager to get to work,” Finley teased.
“I don’t like accepting things I didn’t earn.”
“Fair enough.” Finley crossed the room and picked up the clipboard. “You should probably choose extra clothes while you’re here. Most of the guys alternate between three or four outfits. There’s a laundry room on the backside of this building, and you have access to it twenty-four seven. Or you could come back later to pick out more clothes. We don’t lock the store, so you can help yourself whenever.”
Kieran slowly panned the room again with a scowl on his face.
“Something wrong?” Finley asked.
