Page 40 of A Texas Hero

“Okay, girl, I got you.” Zoey had just the dress. She hadn’t initially picked this one out, but now, seeing Rachel and her buxom hourglass figure, she had a great idea. “Try this one on and tell me what you think.”

* * *

Archer couldn’t get out of the shop fast enough. Zoey wouldn’t approve, but he flipped the sign to Closed and locked it from the outside with the key she’d had made for him. He wouldn’t be gone long, and Sunday was apparently a slow day. But even though he wasn’t going far, leaving his post felt wrong.

He headed to the Salty Dog Bar and Grill owned by a trio of Navy SEALs, who’d retired and gone into business together. For that reason, a large number of veterans patronized the place. This was where he’d first run into Ronan Sheridan after his initial interview with Texas EP. His boss was the one who had told him about the bar in Charming, about a half hour’s drive from Houston. There weren’t many places he could go to commiserate with fellow soldiers and other military personnel. He felt safe here, wholly accepted. On the walls were photos of service members, emblems like Semper Fi and framed photos with sayings like, “The only easy day was yesterday.” Only a soldier could relate.

He ordered a classic burger and fries and, while he waited, took an empty stool in the bar section. Max Del Toro was bartending tonight, one of the three former Navy SEALs who bought this place. Archer liked his direct approach to customers. It wouldn’t be to everyone’s liking, but Max wasn’t the type of person who put up with any funny business. Archer could relate. Max was a big guy, too, and Archer could picture him as a bodyguard himself. The last time he’d been here, he’d seen him “escort” a guy out of the bar who’d had a few too many and groped at their waitress. Escort was a kind word; he more or less threw him out on his ass.

He needed more friends like Max because his own former crew was scattered all over the country. Sally had told him that even if he didn’t go to group counseling sessions for PTSD, he should surround himself with like-minded people. Which was the entire reason he was here, wondering how in the hell he could ever navigate an intimate relationship when he was not the same man he used to be. He should probably get on those online message boards for amputees, but Archer wanted the human connection. The comradery in this place relaxed him and put him at ease. His accent all but disappeared, and he imagined that most of the people didn’t even know he was Italian.

“Hey, it’s Archer, right?” Max said, coming over to his end of the bar. “Nice to see you again. What can I get for ya?”

“Get me a beer,” Archer said. “Domestic, please.”

Two minutes later, Max set a frothy mug of ice-cold beer in front of Archer.

“How’ve you been?” Max asked, throwing a dish towel over his shoulder. “Did you get the job you interviewed for? What was it, executive assistant?”

Archer fought a smile. “Executive protection. And yes, I got the job. I’m basically a glorified bodyguard.”

Max nodded. “Good to know they’re hiring vets. I’ve put the word out, too. There’s no one better to have your six than someone who has already laid their life on the line.”

“Once or twice.” Archer chuckled, taking a pull from his mug.

“Exactly.” Max took the towel off his shoulder and gave the bar a wipe. “Where did you serve?”

“Iraq mostly, one of the few thousand soldiers left behind to train and advise Iraqi security. Probably still be there if it weren’t for the accident. I survived two tours but it’s training that sidelined me.”

“No kidding.” Max leaned in. “What happened?”

Archer got caught up in the memory, explaining how they’d been training a few of the soldiers to use the old MRAPs. They’d had a translator, of course, but apparently something had been lost in translation.

“It really was an accident, but one of them ran me over.”

Max made a pained expression and groaned. “Man.”

“Yeah,” Archer sighed. “After all those years, I almost made it out intact.”

Max quirked a brow. “What did you lose?”

This time, Max gave Archer a look, his eyes narrowed. But Archer wouldn’t call it compassion, or pity. More like simple curiosity. Yeah, Archer definitely liked Max.

“Part of my leg.” Archer downed the rest of his beer.

“Sorry,” Max said, though without a hint of pity. “You know, I would’ve never guessed by looking at you walk in here.”

“They’ve made some amazing advancements in prosthetics,” Archer said. “Mine was the ankle and foot, and a below the knee amputation, is a faster recovery.”

“It’s tough to talk about this stuff, I know.” Max reached under the bar and came up with a pen. Then he grabbed a napkin and wrote down a number and pushed it toward Archer with his finger. “Don’t undermine what you lost. My buddy has a group, if you’re interested. You’ve probably noticed we’ve got a lot of veterans around here. It’s not just me, Cole and Adam. But Adam started this group not long ago. A lot of our regulars attend.”

Archer wasn’t sure he’d be around long enough to participate, but because Max had offered, he took the piece of paper.

“I’ll think about it.”

Chapter Fifteen

When he got back to the shop, the sign was flipped back to Open, the door unlocked. Zoey still wasn’t in the front, but there were plenty of customers flitting about, checking out shoes and dresses. No doubt one of them had literally knocked on the door to be let inside, and naturally Zoey had obliged. He set the burgers and fries down behind the counter, but before anyone tried to approach him with a fashion question, he hightailed it to the annex to find Zoey.