Page 32

Chapter Twenty-Four

R ory was on Cloud Nine. Dos Equis and tacos were upcoming, then nookie. There was nothing wrong with this plan. Not a goddamn thing.

He changed in the office, getting rid of his meeting suit and changing into jeans and a button-down.

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 how long.

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 silver chain 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.”

“At least every eighteen.” Matt rolled his eyes. “He and his lady make beautiful babies though. He ever send you pictures? ”

“Oh, we Skype. I see them in…well, not person, in virtual personhood?”

“Oh, he loves that stupid program.”

Luke laughed. “Matt hates sitting in front of a computer.”

“Yeah, well, I have a media room with a video camera and great streaming.”

Matt looked at Luke. “Was any of that English?”

“Yes. He has this really cool room with movie theater seats. We watch movies and shit.”

“That sounds cool. You got lots of movies, man?”

“Tons. You should come over one night.” One ‘not tonight’ night . “We can have pizza and beer and watch.”

“Matt likes westerns and shark movies.”

“Shark movies?” Rory munched a chip, then went on. “Like Jaws ?”

“ Jaws . Deep Blue Sea . Sharknado . Sharktopus . Shark Night . Mega Shark . I’m easy.”

“Apparently so.”

“Hey, now,” Luke put in. “ Sharktopus is a classic.”

“Y’all scare me.” The waitress was making her way over to take their order. “Anyone else having a beer?”

“I am. Mr. Lightweight here wants a margarita,” Matt said.

“He can have two. I’ll drive him home.”

“I figured. I’ll have a beer.” Matt folded up the menu. “The chicken chimichanga deluxe I think, yeah?”

“Oh… I was going to have nachos or tacos, but that sounds good.”

“I’d totally share nachos and a chimi with you,” Luke said. That was perfect, since that was a ton of food.

“Yeah? Works for me.”

“Get the big nachos so I can have a few.” Matt liked nachos. Good to know .

“Large nachos, chimichanga deluxe on two plates, a margarita on the rocks with extra salt and a Dos Equis, please.”

“And I’ll take the chimichanga deluxe and a Coors Light,” Matt added.

“Sure. Just a sec.” The waitress headed to the little bar to put their drink order in. The bartender glanced over at them, and he nodded. That kid seemed familiar.

Rory frowned, trying to remember where he’d seen the guy, but Luke touched his arm, making all his nerves light up.

“Did you hear anything about the truck today?”

“In the shop. Still. Eternally.” He rolled his eyes, sighed. “I swear, my poor baby truck was mangled.”

“You got someone real mad,” Matt said, watching him carefully. “I reckon you need to be more careful.”

Rory caught the warning plain in those words. He understood. Luke was special.

“I am. There’s method to my madness, Matt. It has to be done.”

“I reckon I can’t complain. I mean, Luke is the one who saved my ranch, but you’re doing a lot for him, so I’m grateful.”

He was amazed to hear Matt say it, and pleased as punch. “I won’t do him wrong, you have my word.”

“That means a lot.”

“He’s right here,” Luke said.

“Here y’all go.” The waitress brought them their drinks, smiling and giving them all a little napkin to set it on.

“Thanks.” They all picked up their drinks. “Cheers!”

He took a sip and damn near gagged. “What the fuck?”

Matt stared. “What’s wrong?”

“Tastes like shit. Super bitter.”

Luke took away Rory’s water glass and handed over his. “Drink some water.” Then he grabbed a handful of napkins.

“Here, I’ll just get you another beer,” Matt said .

“No.” Luke’s tone was all military command. “Don’t make a deal out of it. Give it to me.”

“Sure, honey. Here. God, that’s some nasty shit.” He sucked down Luke’s water.

Luke took the bottle from him, wrapping it in the napkins gently. “I’ll be right back, y’all. I’m gonna go have a smoke.”

He blinked, but it was Matt who put one hand on his arm when he went to follow his lover. “Sit. Stay.”

“Roll over? Play dead?”

“Just hang. My money’s on him. He says let him handle it, we let him do it.”

“Did he say that?”

“Yep. He said he was gonna go have a smoke.” Matt’s gyrating eyebrows clearly meant something.

“Is everything okay?” the waitress asked, dumping another scoop of chips in their basket.

“Yep. He just had to step outside to make a call,” Matt said, turning on enough charm to make Rory catch his breath and stare. “Didn’t want to be rude.”

“Okay. You want more water?”

“Uh. Please?” He guessed? He didn’t know.

“Just bring us a pitcher? That way you don’t have to run so much.”

Okay, he was starting to freak out a little. What the hell?

“No problem.” She wandered back to the little service station and started filling a pitcher.

Rory took a deep breath, forced himself to chill the fuck out. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just sit for now. I think the chips and salsa are fine. We had them before you got here.” Matt’s face had lost all expression.

“Are you suggesting?” He hadn’t done any—A series of memories hit him in a rush—low lights, throwing up, falling to a fancy-assed floor. “The bartender. He was working that party. I remember him.”

“Don’t look at him.” Matt scooped up some salsa with a chip. “They won’t chance the food since you and Luke are sharing. Try to be casual.”

“Right. Casual. You ever felt like you had a target on your back?”

“Nope. I bet Luke knows what it feels like. You ever thought you drew it on yourself?”

“No. I didn’t start this thing, Matt LeBlanc, but I damn sure intend to finish it.”

“Well, then, I reckon the LeBlancs will have to help.”

“Apparently I can use some assistance.”

“You are kinda…flashy, McConnell. You stand out.”

Luke came back in without the beer bottle, wheeling smoothly up to the table. “Did I miss anything important?” he asked with a smile.

“I think your brother and I just came to an agreement about something.” Maybe.

“Okay.” Luke glanced at Matt. “I just needed to get something done. Someone will be coming by. The water safe?”

Matt nodded once. “Clean as a whistle.”

“Good deal. The bottle is locked in the truck.” Luke had his back to the bar, so he asked, “Bartender run yet?”

“No sir, but he’s sure fixin’ to. You want me to stop him?”

Rory was so caught up in the amazing wonders of the LeBlanc brothers that he couldn’t hardly blink.

“Nah. The folks here will know his name and address.” Luke laughed. “The more he runs, the more guilty he looks.”

“Do you think…? Maybe I should go.”