“Oh, my sweet Lord,” Coke murmured behind him.
Dillon whirled around, hands down to stroke ears. “Doc Madding said you needed to do physical therapy. I knew youwouldn’t do anything they said but the swimming, and I thought, hey, dogs.”
“Oh, look at y’all babies…” Coke knelt, moving careful, but better than last time. The little girl—tri-colored and husky and loud as hell—leapt for Coke, ears wild, trusting in those strong arms like every animal, baby and remarkably talented entertainer of the year rodeo clown he knew.
Dillon held the little boy puppy back, his nose wrinkling a bit. Someone had rolled in an accident, if he knew dogs. He actually did, too, having grown up with Huskies. “Let me clean this one up while you figure out what to name that one.”
“Pansy. I like that name.” Well, okay then. That was…definite. Coke scooped her up, following along. “Where did you find these babies? And what are you naming yours?”
“Mine? Why is this one mine? Because he pooped all over himself?” Dillon glanced back, making sure Coke wasn’t straining. The babies were pretty small. No more than the ten pounds Coke was allowed to lift. “Poop! I should call him Nate!”
“Oh, man…” Coke laughed hard, Pansy’s ears flopping. “Call him Jerome. That’s Nattie’s middle name.”
“Jerome is a superlative name for a basset hound.” Dillon grinned when little Jerome wiggled as if he understood he had a name now.
“It’s a good name.” Coke hummed, laughing as Pansy licked his face. “Lord, look at y’all. We’ll have to go get beds and bowls and biscuits and seatbelts for the truck.”
“I got bowls, but we’ll have to upgrade as they grow. I, uh, I hope you’re not allergic to dogs.” God, what if Coke was? “They needed a home. Their breeder was going to put them down if no one picked them up and promised to get them fixed.”
“Allergic? Me? Nah. I’ve had lots of dogs. Millie usedto come on tour with me. Drove Ace crazy, when the kid was riding. Millie was a sheepdog—all hair and…uh…hair.”
“Oh, wow. Well, this is cool, then? I mean, we’ll probably have to put them on a leash or something when we’re out at the pool.” He got Jerome to the utility sink and started scrubbing.
“We’ll make them a little dog run. Somewhere safe.” Dillon felt a hand cup his ass, squeeze a little. “Thank you. They’re doll babies.”
“You like?” Dillon glanced over his shoulder to smile at Coke, but all he got was a face full of water for his trouble. Jerome shook like crazy the moment he was distracted.
“Lord have mercy. There’s a pen around here somewhere… Can I leave her with you while I go hunt it?”
“You bet. Holler if it gets heavy.” See him. See him let Coke do for himself. Dillon would clean the floor, too.
That was going along well until he heard a clang and an oof and then a, “Dillon? Help?”
He ran over to find his stubborn bullfighter on a ladder, holding himself up with one hand, a huge metal pen unfolded and dangling from the other.
“Shit!” Dillon plopped Jerome on the floor with his sissy and grabbed the sagging pen, letting it clang and crumple on down. Then he went after Coke.
“Don’t holler, now. I found it.”
“I’m not hollering.” Easing Coke back down the ladder, he hugged that silly man, kissing the back of that beat up neck. “You just need to tell me when shit is in the attic or on a high shelf, okay?”
“Mmm.” Coke hummed a little. “Do that again.”
“This?” Dillon squeezed a little. “Or this?” Then he kissed Coke’s skin one more time.
“That.” Coke shivered a little, moaned.
“Mmm-hmm.” Oh, he loved how Coke’s skin tasted, andall those new scars just proved that the man had survived and would be fine. Dillon could live with that. He pressed his lips under Coke’s ear.
“Love you, babe.”
He loved how that nickname made Coke shiver, moan. “You know, we could get the babies set up and talk about…reconnecting, some.”
“We so could. They’re ready for a nap, anyway.” Jerome was sprawled on his back, idly chewing the toe of Dillon’s boot, and Pansy was sound asleep against Coke’s foot.
“There’s a nice soft bit of grass under the bedroom window. We’ll set the pen there.” Coke bent down, scooped Pansy up.
“That’s a good idea. I’ll bring this one, come back for the pen.” He left Coke outside with the pups and went to get the pen. He had to laugh when he got back, seeing his Coke with two very droopy hounds, tickling their feet.
