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She hadn’t gotten the joke yet. “Yes, and he said his dad didn’t want to.”
“You can bring the steaks. Get them from one of the natural grass-fed ranches we liked. You can tell Pete where they’re from at the end.”
Wiz laughed. Both Ryan and Erin stopped laughing and stared at her, which made her stop. Then they looked at each other, back at her, and laughed again. She joined them. It felt... good. For the first time in a long time, she felt something other than fear and uncertainty, and it was a huge relief.
On Friday night, Wiz arrived early with only two small concealed weapons and a knife. She knocked on the door.
Ryan answered. “Hey, Wiz. Come on in.”
She stepped in and to the side when Ryan closed the door.
“Hey!” Erin waved from the kitchen. “We’re eating on the patio. Thanks for dropping the steaks off earlier. They’re ready for the grill. Got drinks out there, glasses and water, everything we need, I think. Go on out.”
Circling the room, Wiz walked to the sliding glass door and out. Kindling and logs were ready in the grate, and the oven was off but still warm. The grill smoked; Ryan must be preheating it. A big tub with ice held beer and soda; condensation ran from a pitcher of water. Wiz poured a glass and sipped. The day had been warm but was cooling off; she wasn’t sweating to death in her light hoodie.
A knock sounded from the front door, and Ryan answered, their voices too quiet for her to hear. Ryan led the man to the patio. An older man, with graying hair and deep wrinkles, a little taller than Ryan and unbowed by his years. He wore a pressed blue plaid cowboy shirt with pearl buttons tucked into dark blue jeans, with worn but shiny cowboy boots on his feet and a genial smile. A tough man, used to hard, physical labor, but she could easily subdue him if she had to, and by the lack of bulges around his waist and ankles, she was fairly certain he wasn’t carrying a gun. The two men entered the patio, both of them staying near the door.
“Beer or soda?” Ryan pulled a local brew from the ice.
“Soda. I’m driving.” Ryan handed him a can. “Thanks.”
Ryan turned to her. “Wiz, this is Pete Borden. Pete, this is your neighbor up the road, Wiz.”
“Nice to meet you, Wiz. Thanks for helping my boy.” He nodded and cracked his can. “And Strawberry. That one is such a princess.” He shook his head.
“My pleasure. It’s good to meet you, too.” Surprisingly, she wasn’t lying. Pete didn’t offer to shake her hand, nor did she get the feeling that he’d thought of her as a child, which was a refreshing change. So many older men took one look at her and assumed she was a little girl, rather than a capable woman.
Pete sipped and took a seat at the table. “Tom said you did real good with Strawberry on the trail. It’s hard for an experienced rider to lead a nervy horse. If you ever want to learn more about them, just give me a call. We’ll have you riding in no time.”
“Thanks.” She wasn’t sure what else to say. How could it be so easy for him to offer a valuable service to a complete stranger? He wouldn’t get anything out of the deal, except a lot of uncomfortable silence from her. But she used to be the same way.
Ryan came out with steaks, Erin and Deb followed, and the dinner party got started. Surprisingly, Wiz was able to relax and enjoy, and by the time she got home, her face ached a little around the mouth from smiling. She’d even laughed a few times. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a meal with others and enjoyed it. Maybe in the chow hall during her last deployment. Maybe that’s what drew the attacker’s attention. She shivered. Maybe she shouldn’t laugh. But Erin and Ryan’s was safe. She could laugh there, and in her house, by herself. And she would. She was done letting that predator rule her life.
But she had work to do. She settled into her office chair with coffee and water, woke up her desktop computer, and got busy. She had to analyze the current security of a new potential client; a full day’s job, at the least. She pulled up the client questionnaire and read.
Chapter 7
Tom poured a cup of coffee, yawning. The days were definitely getting shorter, and it was getting harder to get up early in the gloom. He’d get used to it soon, but it always took a week or two. Losing seven minutes of sunlight a day was brutal, and the snow was already falling but not sticking on the valley floor—yet. Next spring, they’d gain the sun back that quickly, and he’d be thrilled. Dad entered the kitchen, stretching, so Tom poured him a cup.
Dad got cereal, milk, and bowls out. When Mom was alive, she’d cook eggs and pancakes or something similar every morning, but with just the two of them, cereal was a lot easier and faster. Tom put energy bars in his pockets for the mid-morning munchies, and he ate some sort of protein on his way out the door. When he lived in the City, he’d stop for a super-smoothie every morning, but it definitely wasn’t worth the effort at home. Especially after his initial attempt; Dad rolled on the floor laughing. He’d used too much kale and it tasted awful; he hadn’t bothered since.
Dad smiled and hummed, sitting at the table. He poured milk and pushed it toward Tom.
Tom filled his bowl. “Dinner was good?”
“Yeah, it was great. I haven’t laughed that much in a long time. It’s nice to hang around a younger crowd every now and then.” He sipped coffee.
“Younger crowd? I thought you said it was a veteran thing?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “It was, sort of. Ryan and Erin invited me, Deb, and Wiz to their house.”
Tom almost spewed coffee. “Wiz was there?”
“Yep. Nice young lady. Wicked sense of humor though.”
“Really?” He couldn’t quite picture Wiz laughing.
“Oh, yeah.” Dad chuckled. “When I complimented the steaks, she calmly informed me they were from Mannix. You know, those grass-fed folks you like so much.”
