Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Balta watched Raul Araripe dance after he made his ride. The man had some hip action that Balta just couldn’t match anymore, not with his sore back and stiff lower body. Not that he couldn’t hold his own, but Raul was sexy as hell. Nice, too. And Joaquim liked Raul a lot. Balta could tell.
Sometimes a man needed some nice. Heaven knew, he was not a nice man.
Joaquim was, and sometimes, Balta knew, Joaquim needed someone less like Balta and more like him.
Maybe he’d have to cultivate Raul and Joaquim’s friendship a bit.
Maybe he’d push. Just a little. He liked the look of them together, anyway.
Balta met Joa’s eyes, smiling as he made his way up through the throng of hats that lined the back of the chutes. It was almost Joa’s turn to ride. “Hey, there. You almost ready, huh?”
“Sim.” Joa bent and stretched, bouncing at the waist. “You pulling my rope?”
Nodding, he moved closer, slapping his hand against Joa’s vest. “You all put together right? Don’t want you stripping down like last week.” The week before, in Cincinnati, Joa had lost his vest, his belt buckle, and half his shirt.
“At least I didn’t make a tent, eh? Like some of them?”
He knew just who Joa meant and his eyes slid to Raul. Raul made a well-pitched tent. “I thought you said you weren’t looking, Joa?” Balta grinned, letting his approval show.
“I wasn’t. It was on the TV.” Joaquim’s cheeks went red hot.
“Ah. Uh-huh. Sure.”
Hal Galland nodded, the chute opening, the crowd going crazy. One more rider to go, so it was time to get Joaquim in the chute. A blue shirt caught his eye, and Balta jerked his head at Raul, who was back behind the chutes.
“Hey, Raul! Come help me, huh?”
“Balta!” Joaquim’s blush got deeper, but his lover found a smile for Raul, a nod. “Thank you, huh?”
“Hey!” Raul’s sudden smile would light up the entire arena.
Balta approved. He stepped over the rails to pull rope and let Raul hold Joaquim in place when he slid down to cover the bull.
In the chute, Joa was all business. The smile was gone, focus on the bull, the rope.
The bull was wild, throwing Joaquim into Raul’s arms over and over.
Balta didn’t let his mind stray from business to contemplate the pretty of that until Joa was out, counting down the seconds as the bull bucked like crazy.
Joaquim started sliding, but corrected, settling in and even spurring the last two seconds.
Balta shouted, pounding Raul on the shoulder. “Sim, Joa! Sim!”
It was gratifying that Raul bounced and shouted, too.
Joaquim yanked his rope, tumbling to the arena floor and coming up all smiles. Dillon ran up and they started dancing, the crowd going wild.
That was the last rope he’d pull tonight. Balta smiled at Raul, pounding his shoulder again. “You done for the night?”
Raul nodded, that smile lighting up again. “Sim, sim.”
“Then come on. We’ll go meet Joa in the back, huh? Congratulate him.”
He got an odd glance, but Raul only nodded, following along behind him, wading through the rest of the bull riders.
Joaquim took some time, but ended up in the dressing room, beaming and bouncing, shirt half undone.
Grabbing him in a half-hug, Balta laughed out loud, Joa’s smile infectious. “You’re losing your shirt, Joaquim! I told you to make sure you were all buttoned up.”
“Sim. Sim. That old bastard bucked hard enough to tear them all off.”
“Good ride,” Raul said, walking over to clap Joa on the back. “Thought he had you, but you did right.”
Joaquim grinned. “He was rolling, and I could feel the rope slipping.”
The conversation slipped into Portuguese, Joa doing a good job keeping up with them. They traded stories, all of them going through the motions of their ride, waiting for the event to wrap up so they could head out. No autograph signings tonight, which suited Balta fine.
“You need a ride, Raul?” Joaquim grabbed his gear, tight body tensing as he did.
Balta almost missed the question, staring like he was. When he caught it, he nodded over at Raul. “Save you a cab, huh?”
“Sure. If it won’t bother,” Raul said, looking back and forth between them.
“We’re in the same hotel.” Joaquim headed for the truck, stepping out in front of them.
Watching Raul watch Joa could become his third favorite thing to do. Joa watching Raul was pretty much second. Balta fell into step with Raul, letting them both take in the view. Joa whistled, bouncing as he walked. Second in the round went a huge way to making Joaquim happy. A huge way.
“Soon he’ll be dancing,” Balta said in a stage whisper. “He’s much cuter in private than he is in the arena.”
A dark flush stained Raul’s cheeks, those oddly light brown eyes cutting to him, then back to Joa. “Mm-hmm.”
That tight ass wiggled, just shaking in the jeans along with the song Joa whistled. “Y’all hungry?”
His dear Joaquim, still more Texan than Brazilian.
“I could eat,” Raul said, his voice at least an octave deeper than it had been.
Balta grinned hugely. What bliss. Watching Joa eat when he was in a good mood was better than porn. “Sure, na—Joa. Sure. We’ll eat.”
Joaquim hooted, throwing his gear in the truck. “Hotel? IHOP? There’s a twenty-four-hour thing on the way?”
“That sounds good.” No one would be watching, and most of the other riders would be a half hour or so behind them. Balta caught Raul’s confused look and translated. Joa had been jabbering and had switched to English again.
“Ah.” Raul tossed his bag in the truck, too, bumping Joaquim’s hip. “I like the smaller places.”
Joaquim’s blush flared again, that grin sudden and sweet. “Sim, sim. Nice and quiet. I could eat twice.”
“You worked off a lot of energy, huh? You had to pull yourself back to middle.” Balta let his hand brush Joa’s ass as he went by. Then he grabbed a bit of Raul’s, reveling in that jump and shocked look.
“He wanted me off, bad.” Joaquim climbed into the driver’s side. The big pickup roared to life, music pouring from the radio.
“He did.” Instead of putting Raul in the back, Balta climbed in and stretched out sideways, letting his back rest some, and Raul could have the front.
Oh, that was pretty, the two of them together.
His plan was better than he thought. They turned the music down and Joaquim and Raul talked, Joa remembering to slip back into Portuguese.
Raul had a fine laugh and a good manner with Joa, friendly and careful.
Balta just enjoyed the low hum of the motor, the thump of the music in the background, and the rise and fall of their voices.
Raul’s was surprisingly high and light, considering his barrel chest, Joa’s lower, as familiar as breathing.
Joaquim pulled into a diner, the place mostly empty. “This good?” Those warm, dark eyes smiled at him from under the brim of that dark hat.
“Mm-hmm. Looks perfect.” They’d seen enough cars there before to know it had good food.
Raul peered back at him when he stepped out of the truck. “You need some help, Balta? You look stiff.”
How earnest. How could he pass that up? He did his best to seem a little pitiful. “Sim. Just give me a hand, huh?”
Joaquim watched them like a hawk, eyes on Raul’s hands, on him. Deus, it was hot.
Moaning, he stretched and bent as soon as he got out on the asphalt, bending side to side. “I’m getting old.”
“Not that old,” Raul said, laughing a booming laugh and clapping him on the back. “He still has plenty of ride, no, Joaquim?”
“Sim, sim. Years and years.” Joaquim’s voice sounded raw, as if he’d made his namorado scream.
He was worried that maybe he’d pushed it too far, but when he met Joa’s eyes there was nothing but heat there. Nothing but a lot of confused lust.
“I’m starving,” Raul said, leading the way until they got to the door of the restaurant, then holding the door for them.
“You okay, Balta? This okay?” His Joa worried so.
Moving close, he let their bodies touch all along one side, hips brushing. “It’s fine, namorado. I like Raul. So do you, sim?”
“Sim. He’s a good man. Lonesome, you know?” Joaquim smiled at him, eyes warm and happy. “Second in the round, Balta. Finally.”
“You did good, amato. Real good.” They got to the door, where Raul seemed kind of uncertain again, that smile very lukewarm. “Didn’t he, Raul? Joa can ride.”
“I think he looked great.” Nodding, Raul let them go ahead. Balta had forgotten how it felt to speak so little English that a restaurant hostess was intimidating.
Joaquim wasn’t shy at all, bouncing up and waving, chattering happily at the pretty girl who seated them.
Balta put an arm around Raul’s back, patting a little. “You should hang out with Joa some, huh? He’s good at teaching English.”
“Oh, I’m sure he doesn’t have time.” Raul ducked his head, a smile pulling the scar at the corner of his mouth. “But I wouldn’t mind.”
No. No, Balta didn’t imagine Raul would. Those eyes watched every move Joa made.
“I can. You’ll need to, if you want to be on the TV. They like when you interview.” Joaquim ordered coffee, legs bouncing under the table.
“They like to talk to Balta,” Raul agreed, the grin wattage upping a thousand times. It was like the many moods of Raul—always smiling, just the degree telling you what he was feeling.
Joa nodded, chuckled. “He likes to talk to them.” Oh. Little tease.
“Hey, I figure it’s good, you know? Why not let them talk to me instead of Jason or Beau? I like to be in the spotlight.” He’d never denied it. He let his foot rub the side of Joa’s boot.
Joaquim pinked again, nodded. “Me, not so much. I like the fans, though. The signings.”
Raul nodded. “I like that, too, even if sometimes I don’t understand so well…”
Joa chuckled. “If it’s the girls, they’re wanting to go to the hotel with you.”
Laughing out loud, Raul winked. “Sim. That much I can figure out.”
“Don’t do it,” Balta said, pushing his foot against Joa’s again. “They’ll only tattle on you to the webmaster or something.”