“I’ll tell Missy and Miz Scott that I’ve got plans.” He could so do that.
“That would rock. I’m actually good at deep frying turkey. Beau sent me a deep fryer one year…”
“No shit? You ever had Beau’s turkey? It’s not bad at all.” Man, he had a date for Thanksgiving.
“I try to avoid Beau’s cooking.” One eyebrow went up, Dillon giving him this glare.
“What?” Folks got all weird about the little Cajun. He didn’t mind Beau at all.
“Oh, I don’t think he’s all that bad, but he makes everything so spicy you poop fire for days.”
“Huh.” He had a cast iron stomach, sorta like a goat. “He makes good gumbo.”
Gagging audibly, Dillon put his hands to his throat and bugged his eyes out. “Well. If you like his gumbo, my cooking will seem gourmet.”
“I like food and I’d let you cook for me.” Hell, he’d eat it even if it was nasty. He’d eaten the eggs Sam cooked, hadn’t he?
“Excellent. I promise not to make you eat oyster stuffing.” The face Dillon made told him volumes about who really didn’t want to eat stuffing.
“Uh. I don’t think fish goes in stuffing, honey.”Oh, gag.
“Tell that to my mom.” Dillon bustling around, the dishes cleared away with quick, efficient motions.
He wasn’t sure he could do that, because damn, he’d been raised right, still… He liked the thought of meeting Dillon’s folks. “How’s your sister doing?”
“Not bad. Not bad at all, all things considered.”
“There something wrong?”
“Huh? Oh, not really. She’s just not doing so well with the new barrel horse.” He got a grin, a shrug. “He’s young.”
“Oh, man.” He knew a little about that. “You like to ride?”
“I do.”Oh, look at that. Dillon brought him a beer. “I’m not as good as a lot of folks.”
“I’m okay at it. Takes me a little to get on.” Was this sounding pervy?
“Well, I know once you get on, you do a great job with stamina.” Okay, it must have been pervy, the way Dillon was grinning.
“I like to finish what I start, honey. You know that.” Yep. Definitely pervy.
“I do.” Those cheeks went right pink on him, Dillon licking his lips.
His cock was swollen, aching a little in the best possible way. “You got wicked thoughts in your eyes.”
“Do I? You bring it out in me, huh?” Moving close, Dillon touched him, hand sliding on his chest.
He flexed, nipples going hard like they were trying to get Dillon’s attention.
“Beautiful man.” Those fingers traced the line of a scar down his ribs, following the jagged trail.
“Pshaw.” He was kinda old and crusty.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that word out loud.”
“No shit?” He chuckled, wriggling a little, shifting in the chair.
“No shit. I mean, we have a lot of crazy words in Idaho, but wow.” Dillon pounced on him.
