Page 77 of The Wounded Warrior

Lori stuck her head in his door. “That email came through. I’m printing it now so you can sign it.” She raised an eyebrow. “Hot date?”

“You know it. How do I look?” He did a damned passable pirouette, one foot and all.

“Like a giant Texas queen.” She winked, her mascara almost giving up the ghost at the end of the day. “Have fun, boss.”

“Uh-huh. I will beat you, woman.”

“Promise? I’ve had a dry spell.” She waggled her fingers. “Don’t forget to stop on the way out and sign that printout.”

“I won’t.” He grabbed his laptop, his briefcase and his hat. “Here, gimme.” Rory walked her back to the outer office. He signed the contract they’d been waiting for, then headed out to his Mustang. The truck was in the shop for who knew howlong. A little voice in the back of his head whispered about how bad he’d be fucked if they came after him in the Mustang, but he stomped on it.

Not like he had a choice unless he traded for Pop’s truck, and he wasn’t about to leave his folks sitting as targets. Or his sisters.

As it was, he’d take his chances.

Still, he checked the tires, the body, before he eased out of the driveway of his office. All was well. No one had pissed on the hood, either. He hopped in and drove to Two Senoritas, looking forward to chips and salsa and enchiladas, maybe. Thought tacos still sounded good. So did nachos… Maybe he and Luke could share two plates.

It was a quiet little drive to the restaurant, and he parked next to Matt LeBlanc’s empty pickup. See how they were, starting without him? The bed was full of bags of feed and dog kibble, but the really interesting thing was the go bag tucked by the wheel well.

Hello.

He loved to see that.

His phone beeped.

Put my bag in your trunk b4 u get in

Will do.

He would also thump himself and think about Doug Harris in a Speedo to get the hard-on to go down. Luke revved his engine in a huge way. The picture Rory brought up in his mind did the trick, though, so he grabbed that bag and stuck it in his car, then he hurried in for his supper date.

Two adorable matching men met his gaze—dark hair, dark eyes, tan, straw cowboy hats. He knew which one was his, though. His was the blistering hot one in dark blue, a silverchain around his neck. Luke was turning into a cowboy right out of a movie, and Rory was a lucky man.

“Hey.” Matt stood politely. Like he was a girl. Rory had to smile.

“Hey, man.” He shook hands with Matt, then put a hand on Luke’s shoulder.

“Rory.”

“Studmuffin.”

“I will beat you down, McConnell.” Matt gave him the arched eyebrows.

“What? It’s true.” He relented, though. He might be out in public, and Luke was committed to coming along for the ride, but Matt was here because he loved his brother, period. “God, it smells good in here.”

He sat down with a plop, offering the guys a grin. “Good day, y’all?”

“Worked our butts off.” Luke pushed the basket of chips his way. “But, yeah, good day.”

“Rock on. I lawyered my fingers to the bone. It’s like working, but it pays better.” God, he was nervous.

Matt grinned, looking so much like Luke it was both weird and wonderful. “Good to know. I was never any good at anything school-like.”

“That’s what John told me.” He chuckled softly. “Actually, when we were freshmen he was devastated that he didn’t make it on the rodeo team.”

“He was.” Luke grinned at him. “He was so good at math and shit.”

“Still is. And, apparently, creating children.” He went wide-eyed, playing happily. “I swear I send a baby gift every other month.”

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