Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Balta left Sam’s hospital room, pleased that his friend was out of ICU and had finally agreed to see him.
What did not please him was how small and frail Sam looked, how gray and tired. Sam Bell should be tanned and laughing, should be planning his next practical joke. His hands clenched and unclenched, because he wanted to hit something.
Balta thought maybe it was time to go home.
Joa sat in the waiting room, talking on his phone in Portuguese, just jabbering ninety to nothing, all the while scribbling on a notebook.
Shopping list, maybe? Joa’s mother could rattle off a list like no one else on earth. Oh, he could eat a real meal soon.
He moved closer, listening now, and Joa was obviously talking to one of the newer riders about his visa, explaining who to call, what happened next, who could help in the organization.
Balta slid into the seat next to Joa, listening to his oddly formal Portuguese. Fluent, of course, but not the speech of someone who’d grown up in Sao Paulo or Rio. His lover was pure Texas, an American citizen, home here like he never would be.
Still, Joa would never be only like the Texans, never be at home in Brazil, so it was a fair trade.
Balta nudged Joa’s knee with his, smiling when those stunning, dark eyes turned his way.
He got a tired smile, a wink. “Nao. Nao. Escute-me…”
Listen to him. So forceful.
Balta grinned. His Joa was going to be a force to reckon with once they retired. He would bet Joa became an ambassador for the Brazilian riders, or maybe went to work with the league as a translator.
Joa put his phone in his pocket and sighed. “Sorry, Balta. One of the new boys—Kaique—needed help. Are you ready to go back now?”
“I’m ready to go home.”
Joa stared at him, not blinking, barely breathing, and Balta hated how selfish that hope made him feel.
“Sim?” The word held a wealth of desire, of need, of pure want. “Home?”
“Your mama wants to cook, nao? I think I could eat my weight in rice and beans.” He patted his belly. He could also use plenty of nights in Joa’s very firm bed.
“Sim. Sim, I will get the truck.” Joa didn’t even wait for another word—he simply took off running for the doors, boot heels clicking on the tile.
Balta glanced around the waiting room, but no one was there. The cowboys had been clearing out one by one over the last week as Sam got stronger. He did text Coke Pharris, telling him he’d said his goodbyes for the moment, and that he would see them after Christmas.
Coke answered almost immediately with “Take care, Silva. Merry Christmas.”
Coke made him smile. The man had to make Dillon crazed, the way he was always available to the riders. The clown liked to be the center of attention, after all.
Sort of like he did.
He began to walk out of the hospital, his bones telling him that this snowy weather was ridiculous and not for a Brazilian bull rider with pins in his back, hips and thigh.
Joa waited for him, the big black truck humming and, when he climbed inside, he found the heater blazing, warm air already pouring from the vents.
“Oh, that’s good, doce. Why is Reno so cold, huh?” He held his hands out to the louvres, letting his fingertips wake back up.
“It’s high, Balta. We’ll spend the night here, yes? Sleep before heading out?”
“Sim, but you know what? I want to go to another hotel. One of the fancy ones. Just for tonight.” Maybe someplace with a hot tub. He tugged out his phone and started scrolling through a hotel booking site.
Joa offered him a curious glance, but the smile he got was pleased, and he realized he hadn’t touched his namorado in days. Not a kiss, not a random caress or a hug.
Nothing.
He could be focused. Balta knew that was one of his strengths as a rider, but one of his weaknesses as a man. He put one hand on Joa’s leg while he made the reservation. They could grab their bags from the extended stay place and go have luxury room service.
A lengthy soak and a long night’s sleep with all the phones turned off and put away—it would be magical. “Maybe we should watch one of those pay movies.”
Joa loved to rent silly movies at hotels. Some new release.
“You are in a mood to spoil me.” Joa pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. “Do you want to stay here in the warm? I can pack and take care of things at the office.”
“Are you sure?” He wouldn’t argue, but he could handle the bill if he needed to. Though Joa had a card on his Amex account. “Use my card.”
“Sim. Stay, Balta. My demon.” Joa winked and hopped out, heading into the all-too-familiar room.
Of course he was in the mood to spoil Joa. Joa had been taking care of everything for weeks. Now he deserved to be the focus of Balta’s attention. He smiled, thinking of the wonders he could treat Joa to before they left tomorrow. Maybe nothing too physical, but he could make things good.
Better than that, he would make sure his Joa knew that Balta paid attention, loved him. Sometimes Balta wasn’t so good at showing it, but he did adore his lover and wanted to keep him.
When Joa hopped back in the truck after loading their bags, he put the new address in the GPS. Then Balta leaned over to peck Joa’s mouth with his. “Thank you.”
“Balta?” Joa gasped, fingers on his lips. Had his Joa forgotten that they were lovers so soon?
“Hmm?” He gave Joa a heated look from under his lashes. “I want to kiss you much more. I know how you are in public, though.”
“You…I would like to kiss you much more, too. I want…I want many things, Balta. Wicked things.”
“Oh, I love wicked, doce. You know that. Maybe I should have you touch yourself for me. Show me what you want.”
“Be nice, demon.” He got a smile, though, so he knew Joa was pleased.
“I am being nice.” Physically Balta had no idea how nice he could be today, so laying the groundwork for a Joa DIY was probably best.
It was hell getting old. It was even worse when old was thirty-five. His back and hips felt like concrete after days of sitting in bad hospital chairs.
Joa pulled out and headed down the road, whistling happily, the sound welcome as sunshine on the beach. Oh, the beach. They could go to Rio sometime soon, and he would make Joa wear a tiny pair of swim briefs. People would stare and Balta would know that was his.
Waxed and tight and tanned and his.
Balta smiled and leaned back, grateful that Joa had taken him along to buy the new truck, let him say which seats were best on his back.
Lumbar support made an amazing difference.
He rocked his head back and forth, listening to his neck crack.
Deus, he always got maudlin during a break. He was used to being busy.
“We’ll be there soon, Balta.”
“I know. I’m restless. I’m sorry.” He felt as if he needed to apologize a lot. Joa deserved someone whole, someone who did not fall asleep on him during reruns of Law and Order.
“For what? I know you hurt.”
“Just that I am old and boring, huh?” His ears heated, for he hated to admit weakness. After what he’d seen with Sam, though, Balta was determined to talk about things more while he could.
“Bullshit on that.” The curse was fast and well-meant. “You are tired and sad because of Bell. Don’t be ridiculous.”
He blinked, then laughed, the sound easing something in his chest as he released it. “Sim. I am. I want cheesecake.”
“Oh, yes. And something without plastic silverware, sim?”
Delighted, Balta rubbed at Joa’s thigh. “Yes! Real plates. French fries with those little bottles of ketchup and mustard. Nothing out of a machine.”
Joa’s muscles rippled for him, and his lover chuckled. “We will be naughty, eh, Balta? Eat the bad things.”
Like that mattered to Joa. All those crunches, all those miles Joa ran and swam. They burned off every bit of flab cheesecake tried to add. Balta, he could work out for ten hours and still have love handles.
Deus, he was downright depressing. Time to toss those thoughts out the window.
He had time and money and a hotel room to relax in before Joa took them to the charming ranch house that was beginning to be more and more like home with every visit.
His own place in Brazil was strange and awkward now, and his place in Texas seemed sterile.
Joa’s family gave him joy, and the animals and bizarre improvements made him laugh out loud.
The “she shed” Joa’s mama had put in so she had a quiet place to watch soap operas was the latest addition, apparently, and Balta couldn’t wait to see it.
He even had a room in Joa’s house—a place of his own with a huge recliner and a TV for when he needed his space, his own thoughts. The recliner went so far back it was like his inversion table, almost. That was in Brazil with his ex-wife.
The hotel came into view, and Balta nodded in approval. Yes, this would be classy enough to have all the things they wanted.
“Park in valet, namorado.”
“Sim, Balta.” Such a good man, his Joa.
They coasted to a stop, and the valet opened his door for him. There was a whirlwind of activity, and a few tips later they were settled in their room with their bags, a room service menu and the TV on, tuned to some police forensics show Joa loved.
Joa was undone like he’d just ridden—shirt tails out, belt unbuckled and loose, lounging on the bed beside him, one stockinged foot dangling off the edge.
He had propped up pillows for Balta, then dug through the bags for Balta’s TENS unit, the tiny electric shocks now bubbling against Balta’s lower back.
“You want a steak, Balta? Or there’s pasta, a bunch of sammiches.”
“What kind of pasta?” He could say he wanted cheesecake or pizza and five minutes later be tempted by something else. He was very tired of sandwiches and the salad bar.
“Chicken and broccoli with white sauce. Spaghetti with red. Something with chicken and olives and capers.”
“Oh, that sounds tasty. The last one. With garlic bread?” Balta asked, hoping for something buttery and yummy.