Lucy and The Lieutenant. Helen Lacey

for you.”

      Brant sighed. “Are we really going to do this every Saturday?”

      She grinned. “Every Saturday? I don’t think I mentioned it last weekend.”

      “Oh, yeah, you did.” Brant sugared his coffee and sat at the table. “I’m not in the market for a relationship right now,” he said for the umpteenth time. “I need time to—”

      “I know that’s what you think,” she said gently, cutting him off. “But I’m concerned about you.”

      “I know you’re worried about me, Mom, but I’m okay,” he assured her.

      “You went through a lot over there,” she said, her eyes glittering. “More than any of us will probably ever know. You’re my son and I’m always going to be looking out for you, regardless of how old you are. When you have a child of your own you will understand what I mean.”

      “She’s right, you know.”

      They both looked toward the doorway. His brother, Grady, stood on the threshold.

      Brant frowned as his brother came into the room and sat. “You said you wouldn’t encourage her,” Brant reminded him.

      Grady shrugged. “When she’s right, she’s right. I don’t think it would matter how old my girls are, I’ll always be on hand to make sure they’re all right.”

      “See,” Colleen said and smiled. “At least one of my sons had the good sense to listen to me.”

      Brant groaned. “Just because you meddled in his life and got him on the way to the altar, don’t think you are going to do that with me. I have no intention of getting married anytime soon.”

      “You’re thirty years old,” his mom reminded him quietly. “And a civilian. You can have a normal life now, Brant.”

      No, he couldn’t...

      But he wasn’t about to go down that road with his mother and brother. They didn’t know much about what had happened before he’d left Afghanistan for good. He hardly dared think about it, let alone consider sharing it with his family. If they knew, they’d close ranks, smother him, give him sympathy and understanding when he deserved neither. In his mind, despite how hard he tried to get the thought out of his head, he was still a soldier. Still standing on the ridge. Still hearing the gunfire and the screams of the men in his unit who’d lost their lives that day.

      “So where are the girls this morning?” he asked his brother, shifting the subject.

      “With Marissa, getting their hair done.” Grady grinned. “It’s a practice run for their wedding-day hair.”

      Brant admired his brother. He’d raised his three young daughters alone since his wife, Liz, had died a couple of years earlier. Brant admired Marissa, too. His soon-to-be sister-in-law adored his nieces and had effortlessly stepped into her role as stepmother to the girls since she’d accepted his brother’s proposal. Grady was a good man. The best he knew. And Brant was pleased his brother had found happiness again.

      “O’Sullivan increased the offer,” Brant said and drank some coffee.

      Grady tapped his fist on the table. “Son of a bitch!”

      “I didn’t accept,” he said when he saw his brother’s swiftly gathering rage. “And I won’t.”

      “Liam O’Sullivan believes he can have and do whatever he wants, just like his old man,” Grady said and scowled. “The whole bunch of them think they’re so damned entitled. No wonder Liz couldn’t wait to get away from them. He only wants the Loose Moose because he doesn’t want the competition. I heard he’s been sniffing around Rusty’s again, too. When Ted Graham finally does decide he wants to retire, O’Sullivan will be circling like a hyena.”

      “I told Ted I’d be interested in Rusty’s if it comes on the market. He’s not foolish enough to let the O’Sullivans get hold of the place. He hates them as much as you do.”

      Grady grunted. “You want two pubs? That’s ambitious.”

      Brant shrugged. “Gotta make a living doing something.”

      “I thought you might want to come back to the ranch where you belong.”

      “I’m not much of a cowboy these days,” he said, grinning.

      “You’re good with horses,” Grady said generously. “Would be a shame to waste that skill entirely.”

      “You know I’ll always give you a hand if you need it. But not full-time.”

      Grady nodded. “What about school?” his brother queried. “You said you were thinking of studying business at the community college.”

      “I still might.”

      “You could teach French at the night school, too,” Grady suggested.

      “I could,” Brant replied, thinking about his options. “If I wasn’t so busy with the Loose Moose.”

      “How are the renovations coming?”

      “Slow,” he said. “But I knew it would take a while. Doing the majority of it myself saves dollars but takes more time.”

      “If you need money to—”

      “It’s fine.” Brant waved a hand. “I don’t need your money.”

      “It’s family money,” Grady corrected. “The ranch is just as much yours as mine. And I would consider the tavern an investment. Dad and Uncle Joe and Granddad used to love the old place, remember?”

      He did remember. It was one of the reasons why he’d been so keen to buy the tavern. “I’ll let you know,” he said, trying to fob his brother off as gently as he could.

      Grady had a good heart but still acted as though he had to shoulder the brunt of all family issues. It was an “older brother thing,” he was certain. When Grady had taken over the ranch he’d made it into one of the most successful in the county. Brant admired Grady’s determination and commitment to the family, but he needed to do this alone. He needed to forge a life for himself that was of his own making.

      “So, about this thing with Lucy Monero?” Grady asked.

      “There’s nothing going on between us,” he assured his brother and looked toward their mother, who was cracking eggs into a bowl at the counter and pretending not to listen. “So, drop it. That means both of you.”

      “Can’t,” Colleen said and grinned. “Not when one of my kids is troubled.”

      Brant looked toward his brother for a little support, but Grady was nodding. Great. Suddenly, Saturday lunch had turned into some kind of intervention. Next, his mom would be suggesting he visit the shrink at the local veterans home.

      “I was just talking to Dr. Allenby the other day about...”

      Yep, right on schedule, he thought, and pushed his mother’s words out of his head as she rattled on. He didn’t need a shrink. He’d seen too many of them after Operation Oscar had gone down so badly. Three of his team had lost their lives. It had been two days of hell he wanted to forget. And he would, over time. If only his mom and brother would let up.

      “I don’t need a shrink.”

      His mother continued to whisk the eggs. “Then what about talking to someone else. Like me? Or your brother? Or even Lucy?” she suggested. “She’s a doctor...and a good one.”

      Brant expelled an exasperated breath. “Mom, I’m fine. You gotta let this go, okay? I am happy,” he lied. “I have you guys and the Loose Moose... For the moment, that’s all I have room for. Working on restoring the tavern keeps my head clear, if that makes sense. And it’s all the therapy I need.”

      That was the truth, at least. Sure, he was lonely, but better to be lonely than