Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Lazy and happy, Coke checked the chicken, made sure the potatoes weren’t burning and closed the grill, grabbing a couple of beers from the outside little fridge before heading back to the hot tub. The bug zapper was working away, the tiki torches were burning and life was good.
He slid into the water, humming along with King George, and handed Dillon a beer. “Happy?”
“You know it.” That bright smile came far more frequently, and reached Dillon’s eyes a lot more, now. Like the everyday stress was melting away. “You?”
“Mmm.” He was warm, home, naked with the man on the top of his ‘get naked with’ list. Life was good.
“I do love the hot tub. Though I might have to dip in the pool soon. It’s getting lobster-y in here.” Poor Dillon wilted a little in the heat sometimes.
“I’ll come with. I spend a lot of time going back and forth.”
“It’s a thing.” Dillon stretched, the little sunburn he’d gotten starting to fade into a tan. Oh, he was still pale as all get out, but light gold was a good look for him.
So were the freckles.
Coke was nut brown, even his butt, which would make Jase and Andy cackle.
“What are you grinning about?” Dillon’s toes floated up to the top of the water, wiggling madly.
“My butt.” Weird, but true.
“I grin about your butt all the time.” Dillon’s toes were doing a little salsa dance or something, bump, bump, bump.
“I was thinking about how it wasn’t so white now. The boys like to josh me about it some.”
That was sorta fascinating, those toes.
“Nope. It’s brown, now.” The toes finally sank under, but the rest of Dillon popped up, all shining and wet. “Pool time.”
“’Kay. I’ll check the food.” He slid out of the water, heart beating a little fast from the heat and headed for his grill. Everything was still cooking low and slow, so he turned back just in time to see Dillon do a somersault into the pool. Crazy man.
Coke chuckled and headed for the stairs, dipping under to push through the water, let it wrap all around him and shit.
They played for a bit, Dillon giving him something to chase, that ass flashing above the water like a shark fin.
Man needed to learn to keep his butt down.
Finally he needed to rescue supper, grabbing the little terrycloth shorts he kept out here to cover up the bits that you kept covered at the table.
Dillon popped up beside him like a seal. “Need some help?”
“Surely. Pick some salad dressing and grab the bowl.” Four chicken breasts and four potatoes went on a platter. Some for now, some for later.
“Yum.” It was amazing, how at home Dillon was in his kitchen, indoors or out. Salad, dressing, crusty bread, butter and sour cream appeared. “You want barbecue sauce? Worcestershire?”
“Worcestershire. There’s ice cream for dessert.” Peach.
“You do know the way to my heart.” Be-bopping around, Dillon got plates and shit set out before grabbing a little robe and slipping it on. “You’ll spoil me.”
“Good.” He liked taking care. He was good at it. Hell, it was sorta his job. He grabbed Dillon on the way by, kissed the man good and hard, just because, then went on his merry way.
Blinking, Dillon stared at him a bit, then laughed and danced a little before settling at the table. The man did express himself with his whole body.
Chicken and salad, potatoes and bread—it was all good. The ice cream was best, though, when they got around to dessert. It was like porn, watching Dillon eat it. He kept his hand across his lap so he didn’t seem like a raging horndog. After all, he wasn’t all about the sex.
Really.
Dillon leaned back finally, patting his belly. “That was damned good.”
“Mmm-hmm. It’s one of the best parts about being home.” He liked to be able to eat real, simple food.
“It is. We have some good potatoes and cheese and stuff up my way. I should make you stuffed potato skins.” He’d found out that Dillon could make great homemade junk food. Even if the man didn’t know hot wings could be done right in the kitchen.
“Mmm.” He could go there. “I want to see the snow, huh?”
“Well, then you’ll have to come.” Those eyes cut to his, for a second, before sliding away. “Maybe Thanksgiving, if you don’t have a lot to do somewhere else.”
“I’ll tell Missy and Miz Scott that I’ve got plans.” He could so do that.
“That would rock. I’m actually good at deep frying turkey. Beau sent me a deep fryer one year…”
“No shit? You ever had Beau’s turkey? It’s not bad at all.” Man, he had a date for Thanksgiving.
“I try to avoid Beau’s cooking.” One eyebrow went up, Dillon giving him this glare.
“What?” Folks got all weird about the little Cajun. He didn’t mind Beau at all.
“Oh, I don’t think he’s all that bad, but he makes everything so spicy you poop fire for days.”
“Huh.” He had a cast iron stomach, sorta like a goat. “He makes good gumbo.”
Gagging audibly, Dillon put his hands to his throat and bugged his eyes out. “Well. If you like his gumbo, my cooking will seem gourmet.”
“I like food and I’d let you cook for me.” Hell, he’d eat it even if it was nasty. He’d eaten the eggs Sam cooked, hadn’t he?
“Excellent. I promise not to make you eat oyster stuffing.” The face Dillon made told him volumes about who really didn’t want to eat stuffing.
“Uh. I don’t think fish goes in stuffing, honey.” Oh, gag.
“Tell that to my mom.” Dillon bustling around, the dishes cleared away with quick, efficient motions.
He wasn’t sure he could do that, because damn, he’d been raised right, still… He liked the thought of meeting Dillon’s folks. “How’s your sister doing?”
“Not bad. Not bad at all, all things considered.”
“There something wrong?”
“Huh? Oh, not really. She’s just not doing so well with the new barrel horse.” He got a grin, a shrug. “He’s young.”
“Oh, man.” He knew a little about that. “You like to ride?”
“I do.” Oh, look at that. Dillon brought him a beer. “I’m not as good as a lot of folks.”
“I’m okay at it. Takes me a little to get on.” Was this sounding pervy?
“Well, I know once you get on, you do a great job with stamina.” Okay, it must have been pervy, the way Dillon was grinning.
“I like to finish what I start, honey. You know that.” Yep. Definitely pervy.
“I do.” Those cheeks went right pink on him, Dillon licking his lips.
His cock was swollen, aching a little in the best possible way. “You got wicked thoughts in your eyes.”
“Do I? You bring it out in me, huh?” Moving close, Dillon touched him, hand sliding on his chest.
He flexed, nipples going hard like they were trying to get Dillon’s attention.
“Beautiful man.” Those fingers traced the line of a scar down his ribs, following the jagged trail.
“Pshaw.” He was kinda old and crusty.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that word out loud.”
“No shit?” He chuckled, wriggling a little, shifting in the chair.
“No shit. I mean, we have a lot of crazy words in Idaho, but wow.” Dillon pounced on him.
He caught Dillon, dragging him right on in and kissing that pretty mouth but good.
“Mmm.” Wrapping around him like an octopus, Dillon kissed him back, sharing the flavor of peach ice cream.
His hands found that tight little ass, squeezing and rubbing away, sorta jonesing on having it right there.
“Hey. Kiss me again?” Those hot hands clutched at him, pulling him right against Dillon’s chest.
“I can do that.” Coke tugged Dillon in, kissing him good and hard. They kissed deep, Dillon pushing into his mouth, tasting him all over. Those hands were moving now, sliding against his back.
That touch felt good on places that never did nothing but hurt and he moaned, the sound pushing into Dillon’s mouth.
He felt the tiny smile against his lips, felt how Dillon loved to make him feel good.
Damn, but that man was so much more than folks gave him credit for.
It was a shame, because he was smart—from computers to current events to music, Dillon knew fucking everything.
Those strong fingers found his lower back, digging in some, easing the pressure from standing at the grill.
He was just gonna melt like butter on corn.
“Dillon.” His head fell back, his mouth open.
“Uh-huh. Love touching you, babe.” Those fingers worked magic, making him hot, making him not hurt a bit.
He was gonna explode into a zillion happy bullfighter pieces. No shit.
Dillon moaned, licking the corner of his mouth. “Better?”
“So good. Your touch is so goddamn good.”
A soft chuckle sounded, and Dillon went back to work on him, fingers sliding all up and down his spine in a slow glide.
“I want you.” It was easier and easier to say.
“Well, we should get somewhere more comfy, then, huh? Bed or pool?”
He thought about that. “Bed. We could watch movies.” Snuggle.
“I like movies. I like you. It’s a plan.” Bouncing a little, Dillon hopped up and eased him out of his chair.
It was like magic, heading to his – to their – room, climb into bed, make each other feel good.
Make each other feel just right.
Dillon nuzzled his throat, humming. “I could get used to this. Have I mentioned that?”
“Mmm. Maybe. You can whenever.”
“You rock.” That lean body was getting heavier by the minute, Dillon just resting on him.
“No. That’s your job. I just keep folks put together.”
“That’s it. You make me fly apart sometimes, huh?” Dillon’s fingers traced little patterns on his chest.
“That’s a good thing. We’ll go with it, you and me.”
“We will. I almost don’t want to go back to work.”
Oh, now, he knew that was bull. Dillon loved to perform. “Uh-huh. You’ll be ready and so will I. We got the best jobs on earth.”
“We do.” Grinning, Dillon cuddled close. “We also get the best time off. I say it’s a win-win.”
“You know it, cowboy.” He patted Dillon’s ass, just happy with the whole goddamn world.
Hopefully he could stay that way. At least for a little while.