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A quiet buzzing sound emanated from the device. He expected to hear someone speaking through the intercom, inquiring as to why he was here. Instead, a loud buzz and then a click came from the gate itself.

Mason jumped back even though the gate swung inward. He stared at the intercom, then up at a camera he only now realized was blinking at him. Then he swiveled his gaze to the open gate. He’d made his choice. Now it was time to find out if he’d made the right one.

The road wasn’t as long as he expected. The hill gave the illusion that the house would be much farther away from the gate, but once he crested it, he was at the house within moments. Only one truck sat out front, but the house had a garage with four bays.

Based on the gate, Mason would have assumed Abrams was keeping his possessions safe from people who had reputations that rivaled the Keagan family. But after he’d asked around town, he had to wonder if Abrams was just an old kook. He wasn’t the kind of guy who attended social functions. He made the occasional appearance at the annual auctions.

Beyond that, he’d sold, bought, and traded like the rest of them. He was simply one of those guys who no one knew much about. He didn’t have a family, any close relationships, or a big staff of ranch hands.

As Mason climbed out of his truck, he couldn’t decide if he should go to the house or to the barn. It was already nine o’clock—the time his brothers would usually be working with the animals after their morning feeding.

But from the looks of the empty corrals, Mason wasn’t sure if the guy was even here. He had requested that Mason stop by this morning. And someone had let him in.

Mason shut the truck door and headed for the house. The likelihood that the mechanism to operate the gate could be found inside was greater than had it been installed in the barn.

He hurried up the two steps to the front porch. The house was larger than the one he’d grown up in, but not by much. It was well maintained with no peeling paint. It was nice—the kind of home he would have liked to have for himself. Aside from the crazy gate, Mason had been impressed with the property. It would have been the perfect place to start a family, which made him wonder why Abrams never had.

Before he could knock on the door, it swung open, revealing the older gentleman. Abrams looked him up and down and let out an approving grunt. He didn’t smile, and his eyes remained guarded. “You came.”

“I thought… didn’t you want me to, sir?”

Abrams shot a quick look out at the barn before bringing it back to Mason. He stepped aside and gestured for Mason to enter. “I wasn’t sure what I could expect from a Keagan. You understand.”

Mason moved past him, entering the man’s home with caution. Maybe he was being too trusting. What did he really know about this guy? He hovered as close as he could to the door after Abrams shut it. When the old man motioned forward, Mason froze. He didn’t like having anyone at his back. Not only that, he wasn’t sure where they were going or if he needed to take off his boots.

“My office is just over there. That open doorway.”

The foyer was large enough to accommodate about a dozen people. Directly past it was a large entertaining space, including a living room, kitchen, and dining area. Off to one side was an open hallway with a couple doors—one of which would lead to the office that Abrams wanted Mason to find.

He cleared his throat and jerked his chin in that direction. “If you don’t mind, I’ll follow you. I would hate to make a wrong turn.”

Abrams studied him for a moment, then nodded. The office was the first door on the left and the entrance was flanked by two oversized maple doors that, when shut, would slide along a track to meet. Abrams moved right through the doorway and toward his desk without even looking back to see if Mason was following him.

Besides a large bay window, every single wall was covered in shelves from floor to ceiling. A long ladder ran on wheels to access everything out of reach. A desk made from matching maple wood sat directly in front of the bay window, with two chairs facing it. There were various objects decorating the room, from a chaise lounge chair to a globe on a copper stand. It was all very rustic looking and every bit as kooky as Mason would have expected.

Abrams definitely wasn’t born and raised in Western country. He was cut from a very different cloth.

With a sweeping motion, Abrams gestured to the chairs in front of the desk. “Have a seat. I don’t have much time before I have to go check on…” His eyes shifted to the door behind Mason, and then Abrams cleared his throat. “Have a seat,” he repeated.

Mason didn’t move right away. All of this was beginning to feel a little strange. They didn’t know each other. For all Abrams knew, Mason could have brought a gun and demanded whatever was in Abrams’ safe. No, he didn’t see one readily accessible, but there had to be something based on that ridiculous gate.

“Fine, don’t sit. It’s nothing to me.” Abrams pulled out his own desk chair and sat. He rested his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers as he stared hard at Mason. “I want to offer you a job.”

“A job?” He practically choked on the words. “Sir, with all due respect, you don’t even know what my credentials are. You don’t know what I can do.”

“I know that you grew up on a ranch. I know that you’re willing to learn.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

Abrams’ eyes narrowed into slits. “Am I mistaken?”

Mason shifted uncomfortably. “Well, no. But that doesn’t change—”

The older man leaned back in his chair and rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. The chair squeaked when the springs beneath it strained under his weight. “The funny thing about Copper Creek is that nothing remains a secret for long.”

Was this man seriously going to discuss the fact that this town was full of gossips?

“When I moved here, I found out right quick that if there was something I wanted guarded, I’d have to be very picky in who I hired and who I interacted with. I value my privacy, and I intend for my existence to maintain that anonymity.”