“Fuck.”
It’s kinda funny when Charlie curses. I mean, the dude will curse from time to time, but it kinda conflicts with his chill vibe.
“That one’s on me. I assumed,” Charlie admits.
Nacho shrugs. “The translation app worked for once, so it’s okay.”
“Hey, the gunfire stopped,” I note, hoping to cheer up the car. “Does that mean you got everyone?”
There’s another single pop of gunfire, and Erik’s voice comes on the line. “Yep.”
* * *
It turnsout Charlie was right. We get home in time to clean up, take a disco nap, and grab Charlie’s husband, Justin, for dinner with our friends. We drive to Rebel Sky Ranch using a shortcut through the Bash family vineyard.
We’re pleasantly surprised when Charlie and Erik show up, even if they are a little late.
Sunday dinner is, as always, a delicious, hilarious, slightly unhinged affair. Anders has shown up with his buddy, Hopper, and they seem to get along with Ant. Bram and I share a look because that’s definitely going to be trouble.
With any luck, it’ll be the good kind of trouble.
By the time we get back on the road, we are full, happy, and looking forward to next Sunday. We’ve agreed our Friday dinner tradition should stay small, but that doesn’t mean we can’t invite one or two extra to enjoy the start of the weekend.
Pulling into Wild Heart, I puzzle at the banged-up compact Toyota truck with Mexican license plates.
“Whose truck is that?” I ask, right about the same time a handsome, salt-and-pepper-haired gentleman with a trim, mostly white beard comes into view. He’s sitting on the front porch, and when he sees us, he stands.
“Oh shit,” I breathe out.“Hello.”
Talk about a silver fox.
Bram and I look at each other and shrug. Given what we do with our free time, we’re all a bit apprehensive as we exit the truck.
“I’m tempted to make Nacho and Ant stay back,” Bram whispers.
I give him mybrother, pleaselook. “I doubt they actually would.”
“Agreed.” Especially since Ant is still put out about not being allowed to go on the Llano trip. Or any trip for that matter. Which is fair, given the fact he snuck onto an op a few months ago and then brutally murdered that one guy who was trying to kill Erik.
He’s a bit of a wild card, is all I’m sayin’.
Bram and I manage to take the lead, making sure they’re behind us as we approach the handsome gentleman. He’s Latiné, maybe late forties, a little taller, broader, and trimmer than me, with sharp cheekbones and eyes sexily creased by the sun.
Sexily creased?God, I need to get laid.
I stroke my beard, feeling a little scraggly in his presence.
“Can I help you?” Bram asks, keeping his face neutral, as always.
Man, I wish I knew how to do that.
The guy looks behind us. “Antonio?” he asks, his voice trembling.
Ant steps forward before I can stop him. “Who the fuck are you?”
Blinking at the harsh language, he reaches for his back pocket.
“Hey!” I shout, moving in on him.
