Page 79 of The Wounded Warrior

“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, fallingto a fancy-assed floor. “The bartender. He was working that party. I remember him.”

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