Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Dillon hummed, putting the last of the Christmas shit in the truck. The puppies had their seat belts and blankets in the back seat, and Coke had his lumbar pillow and all.
Time to head south.
Christmas Day had been really nice. They’d gone to Susan’s, played with the kids. They’d gone home and he’d given Coke presents that included a Nintendo DS with a Band Hero pack. All good.
His ring fit right on his hand, the heaviness still new, the sapphire catching his eye.
Nothing could really compete with that ring. Everything else seemed anti-climactic.
‘Coke’s Cowboy’.
Damn.
“Everything’s locked up, cowboy. You ready?”
“I am.” He was sad that they had to leave so soon, but honestly, the weather wasn’t going to get good enough for Coke to work outside for a few months now.
Not only that, but he really wanted to try to get over to see Beau and Sammy, even if it was only for a day.
He wanted to see Sammy’s reaction to his Christmas present.
The man would lose his shit.
“You got smoke comin’ out your ears.”
“Huh? Oh, I was just pondering. I’m ready.” He would drive the first few legs, try to get them some distance in the snow.
“Let’s go.” Coke stopped suddenly, then kissed him hard. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He wasn’t sure what for, but that kiss curled his toes, so he’d take it.
Coke beamed at him, then whistled up the puppies, who came running. They loved to go.
They settled the hounds in the back, got everything secure and headed out. Coke loved the massaging, heated pad with the lumbar cushion, so Dillon figured the man would be asleep soon.
“I brought that new book that your sister got me for Christmas. I thought, when it was my turn to drive, you could read on it for me.”
“Oh, that sounds good.” Coke had surprised Dillon by being a huge reader. Oh, Dillon had never thought Coke was dumb or illiterate, but the man devoured books. And he loved for Dillon to read to him.
Loved it in that completely fascinated, totally there sort of way that made him feel better than an entire screaming arena of fans.
Coke was his number one fan, and Dillon loved it. He hummed a little at the prospect. “So, what did you think of Christmas with Susan’s kids? Madhouse, huh?”
“Lord have mercy, that was fun.” Coke chuckled. Uncle Poppy had turned out to be a spectacular Santa Claus, and those kids adored him.
“Yeah. You think Sammy will like what I got him?”
Coke arched one eyebrow. “Well… I think your question ought to be, is Beau gonna kick your ass?”
“Nah. Beau is afraid of my ass cooties.” Had he just said that out loud?
Coke just chortled, slapping one thigh. “Fucking ass cooties?”
“Yep. The way it wiggles, he figures it has to be cooties.”
“Cooties, talent. Whatever. I’ll take it.”
“You do. Frequently.” Driving. Not fucking. Down boy.
“Every time you let me.” Oh, he did love that growl.
“Any time.” He meant it, too. He figured Coke knew that, but it bore repeating.
Coke’s grin was totally satisfied, almost wolfish.
Christmas had done the man good.
“So. Do you want to sing? Play the alphabet game?”
“Until we get somewhere with road signs, the alphabet game will be tough. Let’s sing.” Coke couldn’t sing at all, really, but he didn’t sing well with his whole heart.
Dillon loved it. Loved to listen to Coke bellow out AC/DC or yodel with Hank Williams. Of course, today he thought maybe he wanted a little old time gospel.
They started with Have a Little Talk, then moved into On the Wings of a Dove. Coke’s voice ringing out, happy as anything he’d ever heard.
They moved on to a couple of Christmas carols, even if they were a day late, and ended off with The Old Rugged Cross.
Even Pansy joined in on that one.
That had them both breathless with laughter, and carried them on to their first pit stop. No one had called, and Dillon took that as a good sign.
Maybe they’d get to do things his way after all.