Page 53 of The Wounded Warrior

“Earth to Rory. You’re too happy. It’s weird.” She winked at him. “Also, you do have a day job that’s not real estate magnate here in town. Conference call at ten on the water rights dispute.”

“Oh, cool.” Sometimes it was good to do the job one loved best. “Can you order pizza for lunch? I have a craving.”

“Sure. Your usual?”

He nodded. He did love a nice green pepper and hamburger pie.

“Got it.” She beamed, and he knew she would order a personal Hawaiian for her, extra pineapple.

He blew her a kiss then pulled the Peterson file. Water rights. Right. Work that made them money instead of costing it.

Rory chuckled. He knew he was a lucky man in that he got to do both.

He got to pouring over the file, but he couldn’t help but grin hugely every time he thought of old Doug Harris screaming like a banshee. That dude was losing it. It was about time.

Chapter Sixteen

“Matty?” Luke rolled into Matt’s office-y small bedroom. There was all sorts of other shit in there, including tack Matt was mending, and there wasn’t a whole lot of room for his wheels.

“Yo, Lulu. What’s up?” Matt was doing some sort of paperwork, but there was a genuine, happy smile for him. “You needing a ride out to McConnell’s?”

“No.” No, he’d been sitting in the front room watching some silly crime show and had seen a commercial for that wounded veteran charity. “I been thinking.”

“Explains the smoke, but spill. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

“You want a cup of coffee or something? I’ll even make you decaf.” Luke teased Matt about not being able to sleep if he drank coffee in the evening.

“Oh, dude. This is a serious conversation. Let’s have leaded.”

“Cool.” He backed out of the room so he could lead the way to the kitchen, which was where all real talks happened.

Matt followed along, pulling out the cookie jar while he made coffee.

“Cookies? Wow, you must be worried,” Luke said, his nerves settling a little. Matty must have been worried he was leaving. That wasn’t it at all. In fact, he thought he’d found just the calling that would lead him to stay in the area.

“Yeah, a little. Are you going to move away? Do I need to kill McConnell?”

“No.” He took a deep breath. “What do you know about horses for therapy? Like for PTSD.”

“Not a lot. I know that there’s a shitload of people doing therapy for kids—Down’s syndrome, for sure.”

“Right. I was thinking about it. Like, how the work has helped me. I know a lot of guys who are having trouble readjusting. Physically and mentally. I want to try to do a—well, a place they can come spend time with animals.”

Matt tilted his head. “They sure helped you. I mean, they seem to make you happier.”

“They do. And I know some of them are rescues, too. I mean, I wouldn’t want anyone messing with your roping horses, but Angel and Leaf and the damned donkey? They really need me as much as I need them.”

“Yeah, they need love, Lu. Seriously.” Matty handed him a cookie.

Luke traded it back with a cup of coffee. “Right? I mean, I don’t know where to do it, but I want to try. I don’t even know where to start.”

“At the beginning, I guess. We talk to Momma and Preacher.”

“That works.” Luke had to grin, because Matty figured their folks knew everything. Preacher did kinda seem omniscient.

“We’ll need land, horses, equipment and shit. Barns. Feed. Tack. Are you intending on having guys ride?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I’m in no position to teach that yet.” He was like a newborn foal anytime he tried to stand up. Still, he was standing, wasn’t he?

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