Page 5

Chapter Five

“ S eriously?” Luke was so not going there. He would let Matt drag him out of the house for charity, but this was not ‘some cowboy assistance get-together’. This was some kind of formal do at a fancy-assed hotel. He put the brakes on his chair and dug in, glaring at his twin.

“You don’t have to wear your dress blues, for fuck’s sake. I got your good jeans creased.”

Jesus save him from fucking cowboys.

“Great. I can itch all night.”

“I’ll spray the insides with Caladryl.”

“Funny.” Luke gave in. “Fine. Cowboy duds it is.”

“I do love it when you’re easy.” Matt gave him a shit-eating grin. “The food should be good.”

“I sure hope so.” Luke deserved something fried. Or cocktail wieners.

“It’s gonna be brisket and sausage.” Right. This was Texas, after all. Barbecue was king and way cheaper than chicken-fried steak.

He could live with that.

Half an hour later, they arrived at the event thing, and damned if some dude didn’t let them out of the vehicle and take Matt’s keys to valet park the truck.

Matt grabbed his wheelchair, then helped him out of the truck and into the chair. “There you are. Let’s go.”

“I can wheel myself, you know.” He didn’t need Matt to push; he wasn’t totally helpless.

“Do you want to? I’m easy.”

“Just help me get through the doors.” They had a revolving monstrosity here.

“It’s a deal.” Matt eased him in, then shot him a grin. “Thanks for the company, Lu. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just because you can’t find a nice man to hook up with.”

“Shut up, fuckmonkey.”

Yeah, Matt wasn’t in the closet as much as he was the pickiest motherfucker on earth.

They squeezed his chair through the door, and boom. Sparkly ballroom with lots of glamorous folks in cowboy finery. Jesus. His balls actually tried to crawl up into his body at the thought of dealing with this.

“We’ll stay through my part of the auction, I’ll go up and stand and smile, and we’ll leave. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Luke bared his teeth in what he hoped was a smile. “Thanks, bro.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I owe you. I’ll cook for a week.”

“Mac and cheese, and it’s all good.” Luke winked.

“You know it.” Matt grinned, then sighed. “I see old man Lefevre waving. You got this?”

“Yeah. Hopefully, the chair will terrify folks.”

“If it doesn’t, start drooling. That always works.” Matt patted his shoulder and left him. Asshole.

He glanced around. Ah. Cash bar. He could get a Coke and hide behind the ferns .

He rolled up, managing to get around the side where the bartender could actually see him. “Coke, please.”

“I’ll get this one, Jim, and I need a Corona.” A twenty was handed over, and Rory McConnell leaned over to offer him a grin. “How’s it going?”

“Uh. Well, I feel short.” Brilliant, LeBlanc . Fucking A.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s got to be a little screwed up, talking to people’s crotches all day. That would piss me off.”

“Depends on the crotch.” Did he just say that? Okay, he was officially brain-deficient.

McConnell let out this amazing sound that was part duck call, part horny moose. “That, I also understand, believe it or not. You mind if I sit?”

Did he mind? Probably not, but his twin sure as shit would, and he had to live with Matt. So Luke glanced around and brazened it out. “Where? On my lap?”

“As much as I’d love that, I imagine that your brother would cut my nuts off with a pair of rusty spurs, so I’ll pass. This time. Next time you ask, though, I’ll ride you like a prize pony.”

Luke’s cheeks heated until he thought they might burst into flame. “You don’t need to mess with me, man. That’s not right.” No one would want to ride him in this condition.

McConnell gave him a weird look, then his eyes went wide. “I didn’t mean offense, man. You’re still a stud, even when the big queen makes a pass. I promise.”

“What?” Now, he was confused as fuck.

“I’m the only openly gay guy in this whole county over the age of fifteen, honey. It’s okay. Here’s your Coke.” McConnell handed him his drink, then took a steady pull on the longneck the bartender handed over.

McConnell wasn’t even blushing; the words just straightforward as fuck .

Luke decided to give as good as he got. “Well, woo-hoo for you, honey . That means your gaydar is working. Thing is, you don’t have to try to fool me into thinking you’d look twice at me.”

“Why exactly wouldn’t I?”

Luke blew out a breath, motioning at his wheelchair with a sweep of his bruised, cut hands. “Hello!”

“Shit.” McConnell looked at him like he was a moron. “I had an earth-shattering six months with a paraplegic who played for a wheelchair basketball team. He turned my ass inside out.”

Luke’s mouth fell open, and he stared. That was all he could do. Was this guy for real?

McConnell found a chair tucked away behind the potted plants and plopped down, sucking back another long swallow of beer.

“God, this thing tastes like ass. I hate crappy beer.”

Luke chuckled. “It’s a Bud. How bad can it be?”

“I know, right? It’s not like I have the palate of a cones…a coneseur…a fancy pants.”

Luke frowned. How many had McConnell had before he showed up? That would explain a lot, even if the guy didn’t smell like booze. Just what he needed—a sloppy, rich bitch drunk.

McConnell shook his head like he was confused. “At any rate, I would totally ride you like a prize pony. You ooze sex appeal.”

“Thanks.” It meant a lot less knowing McConnell was fucked up, but it was nice to hear.

“Anytime.” McConnell put his mostly empty beer aside, frowning at the bottle. “Seriously. I like a challenge.”

“Just don’t, man. Let it go.”

“Isn’t that a song?”

Christ. Luke started looking for Matt to save him. He didn’t need this .

“Oh, yeah. The big gay song. Let it go !”

No. No singing. Luke backed his chair away from McConnell, hunting enough space to turn around, but he didn’t get far.

McConnell rose and stumbled over to him, hands landing on the armrests of his chair. He expected a blast of whiskey breath, but there was only the faintest whiff of beer. “I dance, too.”

“I don’t. Back off, man.” He shoved McConnell back, but the guy had a good grip on him and he lurched forward. “I said, back off!”

“Stop.” McConnell almost ended up in his lap. “I can’t?—”

Luke shook his head and popped the guy in the jaw hard enough that Rory went ass over teakettle, landing with a thud on the floor, the sound of his head cracking like a shot.

Fuck.

Someone—a gal in sequins and rhinestones with her hair jacked to Jesus—came over, her heels click-clacking away. “Boss? Rory, honey?”

Rory’s eyes popped open, and the man stood like he’d been hit by an electrical wire. Boom, from flat on his back to standing. “Where…”

“Come on. Let’s go.” The woman shot Luke a look, the expression dripping with rage.

“Something’s wrong, Lori.” McConnell staggered, and the Lori chick caught him.

“Yeah. Obviously. Now.”

McConnell walked out, and Luke could see where blood was leaking from the man’s scalp. Dammit. He hadn’t meant to…

He’d just wanted to…

Goddamn it.

This was what happened when he tried to go out in public. Matt appeared next to him, frowning after McConnell. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he was drunk off his ass, man. Like totally wasted.”

Matt’s eyebrows rose. “Huh. That’s a first. I hope he left his check.”

“A first?” Who would pick a fancy-assed function to be the time to get fucked up?

“That I’ve ever seen, yeah.” Matt shrugged. “Come on and sit up by the stage. You can be my excuse to leave when we’re ready.”

“Yeah. I’ll just threaten to hit whoever I don’t like, okay?”

Matt beamed at him like he was brilliant. “I like it. It’s a plan. This is a cowboy thing, so it ought to work.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Fab.” He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

Like, eternal.