Page 3

Chapter Three

L uke wheeled his chair through the aisles at the Walmart, keeping his head down a little so he didn’t have to talk to anyone.

God knew he hated this frickin’ store, but it was the only game nearby for some of the shit on Matt’s shopping list. Matt had taken off with the damned cart, and Luke had a lap full of toilet paper and Ziploc bags.

He couldn’t reach the fucking paper towels. Asshole stockers. Why did all the Brawny ones have to be on the top two shelves?

“You need a hand?” a warm, vaguely familiar voice asked.

The urge to snarl was huge and didn’t fade when he looked up and saw a hard body with the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen and a shock of white-blond hair peeking under a 10X Stetson.

Fucking rhinestone cowboy banker butthead.

“Brawny,” he ground out.

“You got it.” The man attached to the voice pulled down a three-pack for him. “Here you go. Luke, right?”

“Yeah. Thanks. ”

“Anytime.” He got another of those smiles, like this McConnell dude wasn’t trying to buy the county. “I bet Matt is glad to have you home.”

“Yeah. I guess. Sure.” Christ. Small talk. Fuck. This guy was a real piece of work.

“Are you okay?” McConnell sounded genuinely concerned, which had to be put on, right?

“Luke. Hey. What do you want, McConnell?”

“I was going to hand your brother paper towels and then turn him to the dark side. We have cookies.”

“Ha.” Matt scowled at the man, then at him. “You disappeared.”

“Right,” Luke said. “I blend in.”

“Like a goddamn ghost. You need anything else, McConnell?”

“You are a prickly old fuck, aren’t you, Matt?” Another one of those wild grins showed up, McConnell looking damned fine, which Luke would never admit out loud.

“Damn right. I’m paid up, too, back on schedule, so fuck off.”

“Good for you.” The dude didn’t sound sarcastic. Luke stared at him, but McConnell only smiled, cheerful as fuck. “You holler at me if you change your mind, though. Not Harris.”

“Like I’d ever sell to you.”

McConnell staggered back, hands clasped over his chest. “Matt, you wound me to the core.”

Oh, Matt was going to kick this guy’s ass. Luke would watch. It would be a hoot.

Matt bared his teeth. “Go away.”

“Your brother is a mean man. If he starts abusing you, or hell, versy-vicey, let me know. I’ll either save you or pay to watch.” With that, McConnell sauntered off.

What the fucking fuck?

Matt stared at McConnell’s back, mouth hanging open. “Was he just coming on to you?”

“Who would come on to me, man?”

Swatting at him, Matt clucked like a mother hen. “Maybe he has a thing for meals on wheels, bro.”

“Oh, fuck you and the horse you rode on.”

“Luke LeBlanc! You watch your mouth!”

The sound of Miss Feezle’s voice was still as sharp as it had been when he was taking freshman English in high school. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.”

If Matt laughed even once, Luke was going to kill him.

“You are a decorated war hero, and I expect you to act as such, young man.” She glared down at him, and he had one of those weird out-of-time moments.

She seemed just the same. It had been, what?

Fifteen years? Sixteen? And she hadn’t changed.

“Thank you for your service and your sacrifice. You must wear the label of hero for those young people looking up to you.”

“Have to be pretty damn short to do that, bro,” Matt spoke so softly that only he caught it.

Luke summoned a smile. “Thank you, Miss Feezle.” He wanted to scream that it didn’t take any courage at all to get surprised by a kid wrapped in an explosive vest under his clothes. He didn’t. Go him.

“Goodbye, boys. Say hello to John and Mark for me.”

“Will do.” Matt’s eyes rolled like dice across a slick table.

Miss Feezle whapped Matt on the butt, the sound just like when they’d taken licks at school rather than do detention. Not that Miss Feezle would admit to administering illegal capital punishment.

“Lord have mercy.” Luke shook his head. “I’m so glad to be home.” Sarcasm dripped from him like venom.

Matt shot him a sympathetic glance. “It’d be the same anywhere, you know. Hell, the hospital made you homicidal. ”

“I know. I know, man. I just wish…” Well, it was pretty obvious what he wished. He wished that the scars and the weakness and the pain and the horseshit was a fucking nightmare so that he could go back to work.

And if frogs had wings they wouldn’t bump their froggy butts.

“Well, at least you know you have an admirer,” Matt teased.

“Hey, so do you.” He dropped his voice. “Miss Feezle the Dominatrix.”

“Dude! You are totally a perv! Do you kiss our momma with that mouth?”

“Like Mom doesn’t swear like a sailor. She’s the toughest broad alive. She eats nails to sharpen her teeth.” Luke adored her.

Matt chuckled, grabbing all the shit out of Luke’s lap and putting it in the cart. “She’s a tough bird, for sure. Had to be with us around.”

“Well, she is married to Preacher.” Dad’s name was in no way an indicator to his personality.

Preacher was salt of the earth, stubborn as a bull, and stronger than an ox.

He’d been a bulldogger and had still roped on the circuit up to the stroke.

He said that since the years of being a baseball and a football dad were done, he got bored.

“She is, for sure.” Luke chuckled. That was how they all got named for apostles… She was a sick, amazing old girl.

“Come on. We need to buy hummingbird food.”

“You pansy,” he teased.

Matt snorted. “Sue me. I like tiny birds.”

“And cardinals and blue jays and finches…” Crazy obsession, bird watching. Matt even liked mockingbirds.

“There’s nothing pansy about feeding birds.”

“No?”

“Nope. Now, being your twin is like inevitable pansiness. ”

Luke looked over at Matt. “What does that mean?”

“Shit, you’re a fucking stud. I’m a broke-dick cowboy. What is it supposed to mean?”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “I’m the one who’s short now. Bird food.”

“You’re still my hero. It’s in the garden center. Come on.”

Luke had to shake his head and grin, wheeling around to follow Matt. Still Matty’s hero, and he didn’t even have to stop cursing to be an example.

Felt pretty fucking good, to be honest.