Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Coke grabbed another handful of snow, packed it tight, and threw, the snowball sailing over the yard, two bassets leaping after it.
Lord, that was fun.
He’d been out God knew how long, throwing and watching, waiting for Dillon to wake up and tell him to come make breakfast. He was shivering some, but it was worth it to watch the babies run and play.
Pansy was one hell of a leaper, and Jerome?
Well, Jerome was a lot like his namesake, quick and focused, just not real good at jumping.
“Coke?” Dillon sounded like he was laughing, which was a good sign. “I got hot towels.”
“Yeah?” He could handle that. He was feeling the cold deep, now. He whistled up the beasts and headed in, leaning to give Dillon a kiss. “Morning, honey.”
“Cold!” Dillon’s lips were warm, and that mouth tasted like coffee. Woo. Drink of the gods.
He slipped his hands into Dillon’s robe, searching that belly.
“Coke!” Man, Dillon could do a girly squeal. The puppers danced and barked, like they were laughing too. Silly mutts.
“Hmm? You’re all toasty.” He chuckled, nibbling on Dillon’s lips, snuggling in. “What you want for breakfast, cowboy?”
“Naked Coke? Your clothes are all frozen.” Dillon started stripping him down, and hot towels appeared out of the oven, along with his sweats. Oh, damn.
His eyes rolled, the heat perfect, making his knees buckle.
“I got you, babe. Sit and have a coffee.” His slippers were all warm, too, from sitting right next to the stove. Dillon grabbed him a cup of coffee, then dried off the pups, got them curled up in a blanket.
“Did you see them running?” He settled, drinking deep from his mug. “Pansy can catch her some snowballs.”
“She can. Jerome can outpace her, though, on sheer speed. We’ll make you snow bunnies yet, eh?”
“It’s not bad, honey. Not at all.” He stretched up tall, trying not to wince at the aches. “So, what’s on your plan for today?”
“I have no idea. At some point, we need to food shop.” Dillon got him orange juice and aspirin, then went to the fridge.
“That sounds good. You got a grill?” Coke could grill in this stuff. Probably. He managed in ice storms at home okay.
“Uh. I think so? It’s under a tarp.” Peering out the window over the sink, Dillon shrugged.
He chuckled, grinned. “I’ll go see so I can make you food.” He could make burgers in the house, but they were better outside.
“Later, babe. We can have omelets. I can do that.” That fine ass started bouncing. Dillon always had to dance sooner or later.
Coke chuckled again and leaned back to watch. “Nattie texted this morning—wanted to know if we had room for them at Thanksgiving. He’s taking Tracy and the babies to Mexico for the holidays after.”
“Sure, babe. You’ve seen my house.” The house certainly would hold everyone, and Dillon didn’t seem the least bit upset.
“Yeah? Excellent. He said we could come down, but…” Coke shrugged. He was happy right now.
“The kids have never seen the like of Thanksgiving here.” Winking, Dillon got out eggs, veggies, some weird Italian ham.
Coke stood, hands on Dillon’s hips, pulling the man back into him. “Thank you.”
“Huh? What, for not yelling that Nattie is a yellow-bellied traitor?” The joke was an old one by now, and held no heat at all.
“Exactly.” He kissed Dillon’s shoulder.
“Mmm.” Swaying, pushing back, Dillon gave him something to rub on.
Coke watched Dillon break eggs, stir. It was nice just to watch. He was so warm, pressed up against that fine back. It was like a furnace of his very own. Coke closed his eyes, took a deep, deep breath.
“You okay, babe?” They swayed, Dillon almost slow dancing him from in front.
“Mmmhmm. Just enjoying you for a minute.”
“Oh, good.” They kinda did a silly shuffle to the stove, but then he didn’t have to move. Dillon was pretty good at omelets.
He watched a bit, then went to pour milk and start toast, freshen up coffee. Normal stuff. Good stuff.
Dillon put the plates on the table and gave him a kiss before sitting. “So, you want to head into town in a bit?”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’d be good. We need some food, and there’s that DVD movie.”
“Cool. We’ll make a list of what we want to make. Sis will want to do a lot.” Dillon’s toes touched his leg, pushing his sweatpants up a bit.
“What’s your favorite dish?”
“I like the sweet potatoes and the cranberry sauce.” That grin was all about the sugar rush—he’d seen it before.
“Why don’t that surprise me?”
“I don’t know, babe.” Those long toes tugged at his leg hair.
“Hey!” He hooted, pulled back. “I want pecan pie.”
“Oh, yum. The kids will want pumpkin. We should make a list.” Dillon was not the most organized soul.
“Well, is Susan and your folks coming here or are we bringing Nattie and them over there?”
“I have no idea. My place is a little bigger, but she has more of the stuff…”
“Well, honey. You call her, I’ll call Nate, we’ll be set for bear.” He rolled his shoulders and winked. “I gotta go to the bank, too. I got to get some money.”
“Okay.” One sandy eyebrow went up. “You should open an account up here. Fewer bank fees.”
“Yeah? I just got the old checking account. It don’t cost much, I don’t think.”
Dillon stared at him. “It shouldn’t cost you anything, babe. We have member checking almost everywhere.”
“Do I have that? Hold up.” He headed to the bedroom and grabbed his checkbook out of the little saddlebag that he kept his personal information in.
When he gave it to Dillon, his cowboy just stared harder. “Dude. How long have you had this account?”
“Twenty years, I guess? It’s the same account, but it’s been a ton of banks. I just put my checks in there, pay my bills from it.” There was a goodly amount in there, as a cushion. Lots of zeroes’ worth.
“Huh.” That frown was more…contemplative than upset. “Well, we can pull just a couple thousand for you to use up here.”
“Okay. I don’t think on it much. I just got my taxes, my truck payment.” The sponsors took care of everything else.
“Yeah.” Nodding, Dillon chewed his bottom lip. “We need to talk on it, babe. But not now.” He got a sunny smile, the frown clearing up.
“Okay.” He was easy. “Go get your sister on the phone, and I’ll call Nate. We’ll work shit out.”
“We will.” Bouncing, Dillon tucked Coke’s checkbook away in a drawer and went to grab a phone, just dancing.
He chuckled, shook his head. He loved Dillon in this mood—happy and ping-pong-y, ready to go and do and see.
He forgot to call Natty for a bit, in fact, listening to Dillon chatter to his sister. Gracious, he’d bet they were a hoot together.
Dillon’s eyes met his, and he got himself a sweet grin. Somebody was happy.
Damn happy.
That could sustain him for a good long while. Even if he did have to make phone calls.