Page 93 of The Wounded Warrior

Rory waggled his eyebrows at Luke over his mom’s shoulder.

Luke stared for a moment. “I do. I love brisket.”

“Is he making faces over my shoulder?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “This is normal. They play. Ignore them.”

“Right.” He could totally ignore Rory if the man was going to be evil.

Rory grinned and brought the glasses over, then grabbed his mother and squeezed her tight. She was a classy-looking woman, professional and put-together. Nothing like his mom.

She laughed and hugged Rory back. “Where did you put that coleslaw? I need to jazz it up.”

Rory handed her a bag and she laughed when she pulled out burnt orange mums, too. “So pretty. Thank you, son.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Suck up.” Was there any sarcasm like a teenager’s sarcasm?

“You have no idea.” Rory waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh, ew. Pop! Make him be good!”

“That is an impossibility, my dear child.” Rory’s father winked at him. “Now, I want to hear about the improvements y’all have made to the Rocking W.”

“Oh, has Rory told you about that? We’ve done a lot with the barns right now, working to make stalls accommodate wheelchairs and such.”

“I have a vested interest. He keeps your investors well-informed.”

“Oh.” He blinked, his cheeks heating. “Wow. I mean, thank you. I was hoping to pick your brain about what kind of staff might be helpful. My physio is willing to donate time, but I know we’ll need help.”

“Of course. That will depend, of course, on what kind of client-injuries you’re going to have to deal with.”

“Right. I intend to have guys who range from PTSD with no real physical problems to guys like me, or people with traumatic brain injuries.”

“You’ll need a physician on-call, for sure. The VA should be able to help with the details, I’d think.”

“That would be great.” His shoulders loosened up even more. “Can I help with anything, ma’am?”

“Everything is basically done. It’s just assembling plates at this point.”

“Tell me what sorts of house facilities you’ll have.” Jim kept him busy describing chair rails and roll-in showers and wheelchair-height counters until the food was all laid out.

Then they were all talking—even Ro had good ideas, good questions. He could totally tell that this family encouraged discussion.

Luke liked it. They’d all had Sunday dinners together at his house when they were kids, and it had always been lively like this.

The food. Oh, Lord, it was good.

He tucked in, and as soon as he wanted something, Rory’s mom had it. Even the bag of Wonder bread made him happy, and he was being a pig, but he had to have seconds.

“I like him, son.” He heard Helen say and Rory answered with a chuckle.

“I do too.”

“That’s good. It would be weird if it was just sex.”

Luke swallowed a bit of tea the wrong way and began coughing.

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