Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Coke turned the burgers, humming a little under his breath and letting the sun beat on his bare shoulders. Dillon was sleeping hard and Coke hated to wake the man, so he’d pottered.
He’d got the pool cleaned and the salt levels in the water set. Sprayed the cedar off the a/c unit. Swept the ceramic tiles. Dusted some.
Oiled the four wheelers.
Chased a copperhead out of the smoker.
Started burgers.
All in all, he was wearing down and feeling righteous, all at once.
Especially since he kept wandering by his bedroom door and peeking in to see Dillon in his bed, his granny’s quilts all bunched up around that fine fucking body.
Damn.
On his last pass-by, he found Dillon with the covers thrown off, ass up and head down, snuffling a little. Oh, God, that was cute. Not to mention that Dillon’s ass was enough to give a man palpitations.
He put the two plates of burgers and tater tots aside on his little bedside table, then did what he’d been needing to—sliding his fingers, careful as could be, over that tight, sweet ass.
“I made burgers and tater tots.” He motioned to the plate. He wasn’t sure he could move, though, with Dillon’s fine ass right there.
“Dude. You rock.” Dillon wiggled out from under the covers like a landed fish or some such, bounding out of bed, everything bouncing. “I’ll get us a beer. You stay here. Rest. Be right back!”
He nodded, stared for half a second.
Old.
He was really old.
Really.
Still, he was going to watch Dillon’s taut little ass all the way down the hall. He grinned at his own dipshittery.
Dipshittery?
Was that even a word?
He reckoned it was now.
Dillon was back in moments, beers in hand, sashaying. That was the only word for it. The man was like, line dancing all the way to him.
He liked all the dangly bits, but he loved the smile more. That expression was fond and warm and all for him. Dillon just seemed to have all the happy in the world sometimes, even when things were tough.
“I didn’t shake them up. Just me.”
“Thank God for that. We don’t need a beer soaked mattress, no sir.” He took one of the bottles and handed over a plate as soon as Dillon settled.
“Mmm. This smells amazing. Good thing I’m running a lot. I need to stay lean.”
“I don’t make burgers every day. There will be chicken breast in our future, eggs, that sort of thing.” Besides, he had seen Dillon eat.
The man was as good at it as he was.
“Oh, I’ll eat whatever you toss at me. Like a lion at the zoo.” Dillon did a creditable lion impression. The man was a hell of a mimic.
“I like that image.” He drank deep from his beer, swallowing hard, the bubbles crashing down in his belly.
“Yeah?” Dillon bared his teeth. “Rar!”
Oh, Lord. That was hilarious.
He let himself laugh, because he’d be honest, there wasn’t enough of that in his life. There wasn’t enough joy in his life these days, and Dillon?
Well, that son of a bitch was his reason. Dillon could be serious, could be focused, but when it came to pure joy, no one did it better than this cowboy.
Period.
“I like that, babe. You need to relax a little.”
“I’m trying. I worry about Jason, you know? I mean, I got him into this shit, and now…” He met Dillon’s gaze. “What if I get him killed?”
“No. No one is getting killed.” Dillon set his plate aside, though, and reached up to cup Coke’s cheek. “He knows the risks. He’s not a kid, not really. So does Andy. Know the risks, I mean. He needs to do this.”
“I just—he was so sad, so down. I needed to fix it, somehow.” He couldn’t save Jase in the arena, so he’d save him out of it.
“He needed a reason. And it had Bax making his move, right?”
Coke wasn’t sure he wanted to talk on that, because the boys needed their privacy, but it was the damn truth.
So he just nodded. “I’m glad you’re here, cowboy.”
Dillon rose up to kiss his mouth gently. “Me too.”
And that was all that mattered, at least right now.