Coke didn’t say anything, focused on the road, driving.
“We’ll have to get some of the arena guys on it, too. There’s no way we can have them all in the dark.” His fingers drummed on Coke’s leg, his thinking translating into movement.
“We’ll have to talk to Jason. He don’t want people knowing. I don’t know how we’re going to manage it, but we will.” That leg was hard as a rock, the muscles strong enough to get through his thoughts.
“Sure. Sure. I know, he’s a stubborn cuss, and I get that he wouldn’t want everyone and his neighbor to know, eh?” Oh! Sicily’s Pasta House. “Turn, Coke. Left.”
That big old truck swung around, crossed three lanes of traffic and popped into a parking lot, slick as snot. “He’s something else. It’s… It’s something, I guess.”
“Yeah. Well, now that I know, I can help plan.” The place smelled like heaven, even from the outside.
Coke nodded, sliding down out of the truck. Dillon could see him babying one shoulder, being careful. There would be ice and heat packs, as well as the damned hot tub when they got back to the hotel, and he wouldn’t let Nate interfere and drag Coke off to bed. The man needed a little pampering.
“How’s it feeling?”
“Huh? Telling you? Good. You were on the shortlist.”
He chuckled, letting the little glow that gave him flow through. “No, I mean your shoulder, but I’m glad you guys trust me.”
“Oh, it’s just sore. You know. Normal shit.” Coke held the door open for him and the smells of garlic and red sauce and all the good things hit him in a wave.
“I know normal shit. This seems more sore than that, man.” Of course, it could be he was just selfish enough to want to touch, and if Coke needed patching, it would be hands on.
“Shh. Doc’s got ears everywhere. Man, I could eat a water buffalo raw. Two, please, honey.”
“Hey, if I can doctor my sister’s barrel horses, I can doctor you. They’re worth way more money.” They settled in, ordered drinks and attacked the garlic bread.
“Them horses are something else. You heading back that way for the break?”
“I guess?” He really should, and Coke was going to AJ’s to help Jason, which he would bet he was emphatically not invited for.
Coke nodded. “I have to go help the boys. We got to make a transition to the bulls and shit. And, I’m not for sure, but I’m thinking Missy’s knocked up again. AJ’s all bouncy.”
“Good Lord. They’ll populate the whole state.” Missy was a wonderful woman, putting up with AJ.
“That’s AJ’s plan, I think. Andy’s just trying not to kill Jase.”
“Shit.” He snorted, debating between chicken Parm and a big, boofy alfredo. “He won’t. He loves that man to distraction.”
“Yeah.” He could see Coke relax, see some tension ease. “What looks good to you?”
“The chicken Parmesan, maybe. I like the red sauce.” The salad sounded good, too. Maybe some cannoli.
“I’m gonna get lasagna, I think. Maybe a beer.”
“I can drive back if you want a few beers, huh? I think I’m sticking to pop.”
Coke tilted his head, forehead wrinkling. “Sticking to… Oh. Oh! I get it. You’re gonna have a Coke.”
“I wish.” Okay. Time to stuff his mouth with bread.
He got a surprised blink, then Coke shook it off and he could see the man convince himself that Dillon didn’t mean it. His cheeks heated, his cock jerking in his jeans, and Dillon almost choked on a damned sesame seed. Shit. He wanted?—
“You okay, son?” Coke leaned over, big old hand patting his back.
“I am. Mostly.” Meeting those hazel eyes, Dillon grinned. “Got me thinking things, is all.”
“You gotta watch that thinking thing. It leads to trouble.”
