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Chapter Fourteen

L uke stared at his phone.

He’d opened a new text and filled in Rory McConnell’s name. Yay. Now he had to decide what to put in.

‘Lunch?’ seemed too casual. ‘Wanna hook up?’ was sleazy. ‘Why did you kiss me?’ Yeah, that was too clueless.

So he sent a selfie with the caption,

Starving to death.

Let me feed you

came the gratifyingly quick response.

He nodded, then realized he was texting, not talking in person.

Okay

he sent back.

When? Do I need to get Matt to drop me off?

If he can, 12. If he can’t, 1230 & I’ll be there.

Let me ask.

His cheeks flamed, having to ask his brother to drive him to town for a lunch date, but he wanted this badly enough to do it. “Matt? Matt, where you at?”

“Doing taxes.”

Oh, ew. “You up for a break? I need a ride into town.”

“Yeah? You gonna go mack on McConnell?”

“I am.” He squared his jaw. Might as well hang for a sheep as a lamb.

“Huh. Sure. Why not? I need to run down to the feed store and the Walmart.”

“Thanks, Matty. I can spy for you.” He winked broadly, hoping the joke didn’t fall flat.

“Rock on. Don’t let anyone serve him bad beer.”

“I’ll watch like a hawk.” He wasn’t sure what had really happened with Rory the night of the fundraiser, but he didn’t seem like the type to get shitfaced and hit on someone.

There had to be more to the story than food poisoning.

And he had to admit, it was easier to believe after that shit with Harris and the shooting.

Jesus. Shooting. Letting their horses out. What a mess.

“Good deal. Something tells me he needs it.” Matty stood, then stretched hard.

“Listen to you, cracking and popping like an old man,” he teased, and Matt nodded.

“You know it, Lulu. I’m getting older every day.”

Luke spread his hands, indicating his wheelchair and current broken state. “I win.”

“I don’t know…” He glanced up to Matt, who shrugged and went on, “Looks to me like you’re getting younger, man.”

“Yeah. Well. Shut up.” So clever. Luke rolled his eyes.

“Uh-huh. Let me put on a decent shirt.” Matty looked him over. “You might oughta do the same.”

Luke glanced down at his chest. Horse goo. Lovely. “Right. I’ll meet you here at a quarter to? ”

“Works for me.”

He texted Rory with a

cu@12

then rolled into his bedroom. Luke whacked his elbow on the doorframe, then closed his eyes and counted to ten. Now was not the time to get his panties in a wad.

Now he needed to pick a shirt that would make Rory forget about his legs.

Luke stared at his choices. Huh. The green button-down was clean, at least. Maybe he needed to go shopping.

“Matty? Can I borrow your gray button-down? The ones with the pearl snaps?”

“Are you cowboying up or what? I think it’s been to the cleaners. Gimme a sec.”

That was the point. The gray would be pressed and not smell like… Dog? Something.

“Got it. You need me to pick some shirts up at the Wallyworld?”

“Yeah. Something dressy enough I can stop borrowing yours.”

“Man gets a lunch date, and he’s suddenly all worried about elegance.”

“I will beat you down, asshat.”

“Duly noted.” Matt handed the shirt over, along with a pressed pair of jeans. “We’re of a size.”

“Thanks.”

“One of us needs to get him some.”

Luke chuckled. “I figured it would be you. With your legs all intact and all.”

“Highly fucking unlikely.”

Now Luke studied his brother more closely. “Why? I mean, I know this is East BumFuck, but you could go to Dallas…”

“Get dressed, Luke.”

Wait. Wait, there was a lot of pain there, and that didn’t work for him. “Matty? Did something… I mean, was somebody mean to you?”

“Get dressed, little brother, or we’ll be late.”

He stared, but Matt wasn’t playing chicken. He just turned and left the room.

So not fair doing that when Luke was about to leave.

At least he lived here, right? He had all the time in the world to work it out of Matt. They were twins. Matt never could keep shit from him.

Now that he’d found the crack, he was going to dig.

Luke dressed, the jeans a challenge, but he managed it. He tugged on one boot, his other foot still too swollen to fit. Still, it was better. It was getting better.

He slicked his hair back and even threw on a little Old Spice. Their momma gave them each a bottle every Christmas. He had Old Spice from 1999 when she began to give him smell good as gifts. His sixteen-year-old self had used it like kids used Axe body spray nowadays.

“You look good, Lulu. Come on.” Matt didn’t sound a bit ironic.

“Thanks, bro.” He grinned a bit, willing to actually believe it. “I smell like Christmas.”

“You do. I always think Old Spice smells like winter.”

Luke nodded. “Wood smoke and cinnamon. Preacher insists on a fire. Remember that Christmas it was almost eighty? Freaky day.”

“Or the one where it was eighty at noon and twenty at nine p.m.?”

“Yes! Frickin’ blue northers. I remember Mom was freaking out because she wanted to make those green and red meringue cookies.”

Matt helped him into the truck and loaded up, still hollering back. “Don’t forget the year of the gingerbread single-wide.”

“Oh, God. That roadkill armadillo you made was awesome.”

“Thank you. I am the King of the Grill.” Matt waggled his eyebrows.

“You’re an ass, but I love you.” Luke grinned over at Matt. “Thanks for not giving me a raft of shit about this.”

“I might have before the horses, but he proved himself.”

“He did, didn’t he? I’m sorta surprised.”

Matt snorted. “Shit, I’m stunned.”

Luke nodded. “I hear you. I mean, he seems like such a…city boy. I wonder why he wanted your land so bad?”

“Our land,” Matty corrected. “Don’t you forget it.”

“Right. Our land.”

“Ask him.”

Luke nodded easily. “I told you I would totally spy for you.” To a point. He really did want to get him some.

“Try asking first. I feel like he’ll just answer. He doesn’t seem too much like a liar.”

“I’m not a good spy, Matty. I intended to just ask.” Luke shrugged. “Worst he can do is punch me.”

“My money’s on you.”

“Matty, you’re supposed to offer to kick his ass if he does.” Luke watched the side of the road, every mile still as familiar as his own reflection. More than these days.

“Oh, brother, there’s never been a man that could take both of us.”

“No way, no day.”

Matt parked at the courthouse, which Luke guessed was close to Rory’s office or something, and they fist-bumped, grinning like fools.

“Text your date, Lulu.”

“Yeah.”

Matt slipped out of the truck and got his chair out, made sure he was settled before Rory popped out of one of the crazy little Victorian houses on the square.

“Hey!” Rory grinned, and, God, his bruises looked amazing in the light of day. Like maybe he had leprosy. He was moving easier, though.

“Hi. Am I dressed okay?”

Matt snorted, and Luke’s cheeks heated. Okay, so there was nowhere in town where he would be underdressed.

“Perfect. I love the gray with your eyes.”

“Thanks.” He glared at Matty. “Thanks for the ride.”

Rory held out a hand to Matt. “Thanks for riding him into town. I’ll drive him back out to the ranch.”

“Works for me.” Matt shot Luke a look that said, ‘If you need me, I’ll be there’.

Luke gave him a thumbs-up, then waved him away. “Don’t forget my shopping.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t molest my little brother, McConnell.”

“I’ll do my best, LeBlanc.”

Matt finally left them, waving out the window of his truck.

“He worries about me,” Luke said, trying not to feel like a fool.

“He’s a brother. I bet you worry about him.”

“I do.” He thought about Matt’s face when he’d said there was no way he was hooking up with anyone. “You have sisters, right?”

“Two. Nineteen and sixteen. Pity me.”

“Shit. I wouldn’t want to be a teenager now for anything.” It had sucked before, now it would be a nightmare. So much pressure, so much input.

“My sisters excel at it. One mean girl, perfect cheerleader-type, one misunderstood goth girl with an attitude from Hell.”

He shook his head. “Your poor folks.”

“Indeed.” Rory chuckled. “There’s a decent sidewalk between here and the café. Is that cool? Do I need to push?”

“That is cool, and I got this. My PT guy is right down here, believe it or not.”

“I can believe it. He’s good at his job, from what I hear.” Rory indicated the direction and they set off. “You get all the gossip if your office is down here, you know?”

No, he really didn’t, but Luke knew how to nod and agree. He had to concentrate on not rolling right into the street when the crossing ramp was a little too steep. Learning his wheels in a hospital was one thing. Using them out in the word was another altogether.

Rory hit the button to cross, one hand on the handle of Luke’s chair. “No running into traffic to get away from me. I swear, I can do charming. I just need to take a Tylenol with lunch.”

“You look like you got dragged by wild horses, man.”

“You think?” Rory had that eye-rolling thing down to an art.

Luke chuckled. Rolling. He knew a little about that, right?

“I’ve decided I’ve learned everything being dragged can teach me. Also, not a huge fan of being shot at.”

That was something he could totally understand. “That does suck beyond sucking. I can give you some advice about it, though. Duck.”

“Right. I’ll totally keep that in mind.”

The light changed and they crossed the street, Rory helping him down the ramp. Chugging up the other side was way easier, even if it made him pant a little. Working with the horses was rebuilding his muscles. Avery said he’d even be walking soon.

He’d suck it up and take arm crutches over the wheelchair any day.

“Something smells amazing,” Luke said.

“It’s meatloaf day.”

“You like meatloaf?” Luke was undecided. His mom’s had not been great, but after the army he wasn’t picky.

“I hate it. I am going to have a patty melt. Hey, Sue Ann, how goes it?”