Chapter 11 #2
“Uh. I have no idea. You’d have to ask him.” Man, Coke knew the weirdest shit. He’d bet that Balta had made feijoada for him.
“I love that stuff. One time, oh, shit, five, six years ago, Beau and Balta and Steel Flanagan had a cook-off—gumbo, feiojada, and chicken and dumplings. Jesus, it was good.”
“Oh, yum.” Steel cooked? Who knew? Oh, God, Albert’s smelled good.
Coke nodded. “Was. Oh, man. I’m starving.”
“Me, too.” All of a sudden. Bang. His stomach growled loudly.
Someone who looked vaguely familiar greeted them at the front. God knew it was probably the daughter of someone he went to high school with.
“Two?”
Dillon wanted to snark, but he smiled instead. Were there more than two of them? Lord. “Yes, honey, and I’d like by the window, please.”
Coke’s smile was warm and the little girl beamed. “Sure! Come on.”
“This is his first winter up here.” Yeah. She was a doll, and Dillon felt like a bitch. Good thing he’d kept it to himself.
“Oh, God. Snow sucks, man. I hate it. I’m heading to LA as soon as I graduate.”
“Can we get some coffee, hon?” He wasn’t going to snarl.
“God, yes. Please. I’m chilled.” Coke settled right in, seeming like he belonged.
Dillon had to smile. Look at that man. When the waitress left, he leaned over and whispered, “Love you, babe.”
The lines beside Coke’s eyes got deeper with a full-on grin. “Well, listen to you, now.”
“What?” He did. Like, with this hugeness. Maybe with every single cell in his body.
“I am having the time of my life, cowboy. Tell me this is just the first holiday we get together.”
“Only the first of a thousand, at least.” He grinned even wider, his face stretching.
“It’s a plan.” The toe of Coke’s boot actually nudged his ankle. Woo. Flirting in public.
“Dillon! My friend. How you?” Albert came bustling out, wiping his hands on his apron.
“Good. Good, this is Coke. He’ll be coming in with me a lot.”
“Fearless Pharris? A real pleasure, sir. I watch the bull riding on the TV. Never see Dillon, you know, but I know you.”
Coke stood, smiled, shook Albert’s hand. “I hear y’all have the best food round these parts.”
“Oh, Dillon is kind.” Albert shook Coke’s hand. “What do you like, Mr. Coke?”
“I was promised patty melts and onion rings and pie.”
“Very good! Dillon’s favorite. For both, yes?” When Dillon nodded, Albert clapped his hands and headed off, bellaring some crazy song in a language Dillon had no ear for.
Coke grinned, settled in with his coffee, and grabbed the sugar jar.
“Sweet tooth.” He teased Coke about that a lot. Coke worked it off, though.
“Yup. Gonna get fat one day.”
Right.
Fat.
No way. Coke worked too damned hard. Dillon figured only him and maybe Joa worked out more, and they didn’t work near as hard in the arena.
Coke drank deep, humming softly. That was about the time that fucking phone rang again.
Dillon gritted his teeth, hoping Coke would look at it and say, “Telemarketer.”
Coke picked his phone up, glanced at the display. “You know how to turn the ringer off, cowboy?” Coke asked.
Must be Ace.
“I do.” He grabbed the phone and silenced the incoming call, then went to turn the ringer off. Yep. Ace. Then he just slipped the phone in his pocket, rejoicing when Coke didn’t so much as blink.
The little gal refilled their coffee and Albert sent out these weird Brazilian cheese breads, which made Coke hoot.
Coke popped two in his mouth, sucking in air after. “We oughta get us some movies and some popcorn at the store, too. Make a night of it.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea.” He loved it when Coke was in day-off mode. It wouldn’t last forever. Someday soon he’d find Coke in the garage, tinkering.
Another two cheese breads disappeared. “Yup. You. Me. Darkness. Movie. Blanket. Popcorn. Necking.”
Dillon tried a roll. Huh. Chewy. “Woo-hoo.”
“Yeah.” Coke’s phone vibrated wildly in his pocket.
Dillon ignored it. As much as a man could ignore a vibrating titty.
The onion rings came—a huge pile of crunchy goodness on a platter—and Coke moaned.
They got ketchup and malt vinegar. “Can we have some mustard, hon?” Dillon knew Coke would want mustard for his fried side dishes. It was a Texas thing.
Coke grinned, nodded. “And a thing of ranch dressing.”
God, he loved the way Coke said ‘rainch’. It made their waitress blink, but she nodded and bounced off. She was getting cuter.
Those dancing eyes landed on the onion rings, sizing them up. “Man, how are we going to attack this…?”
“Don’t pull from the bottom. Oh, and the first few, you have to cut open, or they’ll burn you.” Man, wait until Coke saw the patty melts.
“No burning your tongue, Mr. Walsh.”
Oh.
Oh, that expression was sex personified.
Okay.
Dillon damned near swallowed said tongue thinking about what he would do with it later. Maybe he needed water, too.
Coke’s grin was slow, wicked, pure fucking sex. And all his.
Dillon cleared his throat. “No. No burning.”
“Good deal.”
The mustard and the ranch dressing came, then they dug in, dipping and chatting, goofing off like the huge dorks they were.
“Dillon? Dillon, you’re in town! How are you, man?” Tim Berringer walked over, grinning at him. The man got bigger every winter, the plow man just swelling.
“Good. Good. How are you?” He stood briefly to shake hands, just to be polite.
“I’m real good. Sold your sister some calves last spring. They’re looking good.”
“Cool.” He stayed out of Susan’s business for the most part. She beat him up when he didn’t.
“You going to be around for the Christmas parade? We’re hunting a grand marshal.”
“Oh.” Man, sometimes being the local celebrity was… Wow. “Uh. If Coke wants to be in a parade, sure.”
“Coke? Coke Pharris? You’re in town? Man, sir, it’s an honor to meet you. I saw you twenty years ago in the National. There’s never been anyone so good.”
Coke grinned, stood, and shook Tim’s hand. “Well, ain’t that good of you to say?”
“It’s the truth. You’re Fearless Pharris!”
Dillon beamed a little. It was good to see Coke get his props.
“Would you like to have a sit, sir?”
Tim grinned wide, actually bounced. “I’d love to, but I can’t. My daughter’s going on her first date tonight, and I promised the missus I’d be there to glower and threaten, so I gotta hustle. I’d love to have coffee one morning, though. If you’re gonna be in town.”
“He’ll be around, yeah.” Dillon grinned. “I’ll call about the parade.”
“Excellent. Janie will be tickled.”
Albert called Tim, held up a paper to-go bag.
“What do you think, babe? You’re famous.”
Coke laughed. “Shit, cowboy. You’re the face of the league. I’m just the bullfighter.”
“Nah. Ace is the face. Thank God. I just wear makeup.” Coke’s nose wrinkled when he said Ace’s name, and Dillon grabbed an onion ring. “What is it about him, eh?”
“Huh? You mean me and Ace? Shit, we just… He don’t do good by folks, and he rides us every time some boy gets hurt on camera. My boys work hard—damn hard…” He could see the anger rising.
“Hey.” He reached out and grabbed Coke’s hand. “I’m sorry, babe. It never occurred to me, huh? I just dance.” He winked, trying to ease the mood.
“Yeah. You’re the best of us. You work hard.”
His cheeks heated with the pleasure of it, because Coke meant it. Truly. God, that was hot. “Balta would say he was the best.”
“And he’s one hell of a bull rider, but you? What you got, ain’t nobody else got, cowboy. You’re the one and only.” Coke nodded like that was gospel.
Dillon was glad he was sitting down. As it was, he had to let go of Coke’s hand when the patty melts came, but he wasn’t going to be ashamed. Not one bit. Coke moaned over the burger, digging in happily, making him laugh by chasing strings of onion and dangling cheese.
They stuffed themselves, having fried pie and ice cream for dessert. “I wonder what we’ll have to do to work this off.”
“You’ll prob’ly have to shake your heinie. Lots.”
“Oh, I bet I will. And you’ll have to tell me what you think. Lots.”
Coke’s eyes lit up. “I can do that. I’m good at that.”
“You are. Then movies and popcorn. It’s a plan.” A fine plan.
“Yeah. Let’s go shopping, cowboy. Walk this lunch off.” Two twenties landed on the table.
“Sounds good.” Everything with Coke sounded good. They had plenty of time to hang out at Albert’s and be famous.
Coke nodded to Albert, leading Dillon out, just as easy as that.
Dillon grinned, ignoring the vibrating phone in his pocket. He was really looking forward to the rest of their day. And night.