Chapter 6
Chapter Six
The snow was coming down like nothing he’d ever seen outside of the movies, but Coke didn’t bitch none.
Dillon said it was okay, so it was. Hell, he’d thought about telling Dillon to stay in the hotel one extra day, but the puppers needed to be home and he needed a real bed.
He just had to hope like hell that Dillon had said real bed and not one of them wee double things.
“How’s it going, babe?” Dillon had fussed about his joints and shit. Coke’s, not Dillon’s. The man worried.
“I’m good. You?”
“Good. So pretty, huh?” Dillon didn’t seem the least bit put out driving in the snow.
“It is. A little unnerving, but pretty.”
“Unnerving?” Dillon shot him a worried glance. “Why?”
“The white. I mean, I ain’t never seen anything like this, not ever.” He kept expecting to blink hard and discover they were way too close to a huge cotton hauler.
“Ah. Yeah, it’s quiet, too, huh?” It was. Kinda eerie.
“A little. It’s just different. I seen some guys get all freaked out about tornados or flash floods. It’s all what you’re used to.”
“Yeah. Sandstorms freak me out. Remember that one in Albuquerque?”
Shit, he’d wondered why Dillon had eaten an entire plate of sopapillas in one sitting. Who knew it was over some wind and sand?
“Yep. New Mexico’s got all sorts of weather there—hot, cold, wind. Everything.”
“Pretty, though. I went to Ruidoso skiing once, when I was a kid. We ought to go someday.”
“Okay. I’d try it.” Skiing, huh? Coke’d bet Dillon was good at that, really.
“You’ll like the Inn of the Mountain Gods, I bet.”
“Inn of the Mountain Gods…” He liked that. It sounded like a good, old western. He’d read one just last week where the Navajo chief had him a pipeline to their gods.
“Yeah. It’s on the Apache reservation. It’s cool.” Dillon was humming between sentences.
“If there’s skiing, it’s prob’ly more than cool, huh?”
“Just a bit, yeah.” He got a grin back. “It’s pretty in the summer, too, though. All green. Lots of ravens.”
“You been there a lot?” Dillon’d had a lot of life before they’d hooked wagons. Hell, so had he, though all of his could be traced to some rodeo somewhere.
“Some, yeah. I like New Mexico, you know? Colorado. I might even like Texas.” That got him a wink.
“Maybe, huh? Just a little?” He reached over and patted Dillon’s leg. “I like Louisiana pretty well. Beau and Sammy’s place is a little like heaven.”
“Bugs.” Chuckling, Dillon shook his head. “Bugs and gumbo. Otherwise, it’s really cool.”
“You don’t like Beau’s cooking? I know folks tease, but… Damn, I do enjoy it.”
“It’s not nasty or anything, Coke. It’s just nuclear hot. Like, I’m shitting lava hot.” Dillon shook his head.
“Ah.” He nodded like he got it, but really he reckoned Dillon still had a lot of Yankee in him, biologically speaking.
Everyone knew Idaho folks ate a lot of meat and potatoes and not much spice.
Hell, Dillon liked tofu. Him and Nattie had spent one fun three-day event stuffing Dillon’s shorts with tofu. That had been fucking funny.
Dillon grinned over. “What are you chuckling about?”
“Huh? Oh, nothing. Just remembering stuff.”
“Oh. Was it good?”
“I just love some of the jokes we play, huh? ‘Specially Sam Bell.” Lord knew that boy had a wicked streak a mile wide.
“Oh, God. Sammy is vicious.” Neither one of them mentioned that they hoped Sam still would be ready and able to play jokes.
“You remember when he dyed your hair purple? Or when he superglued Beau’s boots inside his bag?”
“God.” Cracking up, Dillon laughed until Coke was afraid they’d run off the road. “Remember when he took Nate’s shoes and filled them with that expanding foam?”
“Oh, Jesus!” He hooted. “Nattie was gonna kill him, sure as shit.”
“I know. He’d dig out a bunch and more would swell up.” One of Dillon’s hands pounded the steering wheel.
“Then Nate went and poured that clear acrylic in Sammy’s spare gloves, took the man forever to figure out what was wrong with ’em!” Coke was gonna get a stitch, laughing so hard.
“Man, we have a good life, Coke.”
“We do!” He always believed that, even when it was hard. They were free, had the best jobs on earth, had the best friends. There was nothing else he could do that would pay him to save cowboys, either.
“So, when we get to my place, we’ll have snow ice cream.”
“Ice cream that tastes like snow?” Didn’t snow taste like water?
“Nope. Just snow with sugar and food coloring.” When he stared, Dillon got laughing again.
“You’re teasing me, now…”
“No, sir. I’m serious.”
Lord have mercy, he’d like to see that. “We’re going to have so much fun, you and me.”
“I know!” Dillon patted his leg. “So much.”
“How much longer do we have?”
“Until home?” Dillon checked the road signs. “Maybe a half hour. Did you need to stop?”
“Nope, just curious.” He was actually about as happy as a pig in shit, warm and comfy, bundled up and laughing with his cowboy.
“Cool. It’s pretty up here in the spring, too. You’ll like it.”
“It’s where you are, cowboy.” He’d love it because Dillon did, and because they were together.
“Oh.” Dillon reached over and squeezed his leg.
“Mmm.” He traced Dillon’s fingers, knowing every bump and line. There was a little scar on the back of Dillon’s hand from a horse that’d bitten him.
“Why’d you start doing rodeo work, cowboy?” He knew Dillon’d done bookkeeping stuff, or at least that’s what the man’d gone to school for. College. Good Lord, him falling in love with a college man. An accountant.
“It was a dare. My sister used to drag me to rodeos for barrel racing stuff, and I bitched about the clowns.”
Yeah, he could see that.
“I seen some weird ones.” Hell, him and Natty had worked an event in Killeen, once, with this nut-burger guy in a green sparkly wig and a fat suit…
“The one she dared me on was an old bullfighter, and, man, he was good at that, but he wasn’t funny. I said a clown should be an entertainer, and she said if you’re so amazing, you try it.”
“Oh, cowboy, I’d give a lot to have seen your first show.”
Of course, he’d been there when John Dalton had brought Dillon in to audition. There had been something about Dillon then that had made them all stop and listen, something that had made even Ace’s best friend Steele smile.
Dillon Walsh was the best thing to happen to high level bull riding, and Coke had believed that right from the beginning.
“Now you’re more goofy. With the grin.”
“I was thinking about watching you work, is all.”
“Man, you were thinking about work?” They topped a little rise, and a town came into view, just like that. “That’s Pocatello.”
“Well, ain’t that a picture?” Just like a Christmas card or something—snowy and charming and shit.
“Yeah. That’s where we’ll go for supplies and stuff. My sis should have us provisioned for a few days, though.”
“She’s a good girl.” He’d heard so much about her, and she seemed solid, a horsey type.
“She is. Man, my shoulders need a rub when we get home.” Dillon rolled his neck, then checked the rearview for the puppies. Coke loved that happy expression when Dillon saw sleeping babies.
“I’m on it.” He was all about that fine body, oil, and rubbing.
“You so are. You have the best hands.” Suddenly the temperature in the cab went up maybe ten degrees. Coke grinned. His hands had learned every fucking square inch of that whipcord lean body.
“Now I’m thinking naughty.” Dillon shifted, legs spreading as much as they could.
He pretended to ponder on that. “I approve of naughty.”
“I know. I’ve seen how you approve. In a chair.”
Coke chuckled. “In a pool.”
“In the shower.” Dillon was grinning, heading off the main road now down a two-lane state highway.
“On the diving board…” That had been fun.
“Bouncy!” Dillon started jittering a little.
“Uh-huh. I like the new deckchairs, too.” The old ones hadn’t lasted past a…workout or two. Too much sun, Coke reckoned.
“Oh, God, yes. I like the adjustable bed.”
“Mmhmm.” He shifted, his cock waking up. “Kitchen table.”
That got him a remembering kind of smile. “That was a good one.”
Coke was grinning like a damn monkey. “Uh-huh.”
“Almost there, babe. You’ve been a trouper.” Dillon patted his leg again, fingers lingering.
“I just want to let the babies out and get the massage oil.”
Maybe see Dillon’s house.
“Mmm. Oil.” Dillon bounced. “I can’t wait for you to see.”
“What’s the best part?” His body started taking an active interest in the idea of bouncy Dillon.
“Uh…” They turned down an even smaller road. “I like my kitchen. Hopefully, the hot tub.”
“Mmm.” He was looking forward to that best, really. A hot tub to soak in for a few hours. Almost as good as a pool.
“Yeah. Been a long ride these last few weeks.”
“You know it. You… It’s sorta weird that Beau ain’t called, huh?”
“Nope.” Those pretty eyes cut to his a moment. “I turned your phone off, and mine is on vibrate. He texted us about an hour ago to let us know Sammy was finally resting some.”
“Oh. You think it’s okay, Dillon? What if someone needs me?” Not that he could do much, and not that he hadn’t gotten better sleep in the last two days than he had in weeks.
“Oh, babe. Someone always needs help.” Shaking his head, Dillon steered around a big old pile of snow on the road. “There are other people who can help while you rest a few days.”
Coke nodded, but he couldn’t help worrying. Mostly about the pang of guilt at the joy he felt, to think about setting his burden down for a bit. These days, that load felt heavy.
“If someone really needs us, we’ll be there. They have Balta and Ace and the Taggarts…”
Yeah. Someone else could help, just for a bit. They topped a rise, just like they had back in town, and there was suddenly a little ranch compound out there. A house, some barns…
“Look at that. Ain’t that pretty.”
“I think so. It’s all ours.”