“Curious about my ...dining habits?Here at the Wagon Wheel?”
“Sure.Yes.That.”
Sully couldn’t deny the sudden impulse to spill his guts.After all, he hadn’t been lying when he’d told Dean there weren’t that many (read,zero) understanding guys to talk to in Pistol Creek or, for that matter, all of damn Clay County.
“Last year,” he blurted before pausing to swig another bracing swallow of spiked sweet tea to steady his pinball bouncing nerves and drown the squadron of butterflies zooming in tight little formations deep down in his gut.“Must have been toward the end of summer because I remember there were Fall specials on the drink menu.”
Dean nodded encouragingly, subtly pushing his drink to one side and reaching for his glass of water instead.So much for getting him just buzzed enough to lower his inhibitions, Sully thought ruefully.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Dean said encouragingly.
He needn’t have bothered.Sully found himself warming to the tale.And, of course, the opportunity to see how receptive Dean was to it.Or, at the very least, the hidden implications of it.“Some brand spankin’ new beer salesman came into Pappy’s one random weekday,” he began, hand around his Mason jar but not taking a sip.“The boys hadn’t come in yet, the lunch crowd was gone and it was just the two of us.He sat himself down at the empty bar, pitching me on all these fancy drinks I’d never be able to sell in little old, boring Pistol Creek.Still, he was kind of cute so I let him.You know, boring day, no one around, I drifted into some dream state and let him prattle on about IPAs and craft beers, small batch bourbons and marshmallow and lavender flavored vodkas.He was a little disappointed when, at the end of his pitch, I had to let him down easy.So to make up for it, I suggested...”
Sully paused, taking a sip after all.Dean smirked, as if not at all that shocked by the fact that Sully was letting him know, not too subtly at that, which team he played for.And, sadly, how rarely.
“Lemme guess.Dinner at the Wagon Wheel?”Dean asked, smirking.
Sully gave a little gunshot finger point with his free hand, savoring another sip of the stinging tea before he, too, slid the jug aside in favor of water.
“You got it, City Slicker,” he said, admiring the predictably flared nostrils and arched eyebrow of Dean’s response.“He was staying nearby and I told him I’d meet him here at 6:00.I was pretty eager,” Sully admitted.“It had been awhile, you know?So I got here early, saved us a booth for two, watched him walk in about half-an-hour early himself, all nervous like, dressed to the nines and...”
Sully’s smile wavered softly, glancing past Dean at the front door behind him, as if reliving that very moment.“He looked as nervous as I felt and, like a damn fool, I stood up when he approached the table.
Chapter Seven
Dean
“That doesn’t soundfoolish at all...”
Dean heard the sound of his own voice above the charming café’s inevitable din of clinking silver and clattering plates: quiet, cautious, tentative.Sully looked almost ...hopeful?
“No?”he asked, his overstuffed cowboy confidence faltering for the first time since they’d met.
“No, Sully,” Dean insisted, heart fluttering at the intimacy of the unfolding tale and in no rush to interrupt it.“I think it sounds ...romantic.”
Sully blushed.He’d foregone his ball cap for their, uh ...whatever this was.Now, unbridled, feathery brown curls framed his lean face, the perfect complement to the faded blue denim dress shirt he’d worn to dinner.“Grady must have, too.”
