Beau didn’t want to go back on the road. Luckily, he didn’t have to—he could turn down the offer of a speaking engagement that weekend and not hit the road for another six days. Six days to spend with Sam. They’d done it in the barn, in the cabin, in their bed, and on the kitchen table. He reckoned he could find at least six more places.
The thought made him laugh out loud.
“What’s funny, Boug?” Sammy looked ten years younger, bouncing into the kitchen. “Talked to Dillon. Coke’s healing up good.”
“Good on him! Ace called. I told him no.”
“No about what? And good.”
“He wanted me to come to some gala thing and then do a TV spot.” Like he was gonna waste what time he had yammering on TV.
Sam stuck his tongue out. “That ain’t no fun, and we got guys coming tomorrow to rope.”
“We do?” Beau raised an eyebrow, trying to remember when that had happened. “Well, there you go.”
“Your brother, your cousin Toy, couple of folks from town.” Sam frowned. “You didn’t call ‘em?”
His brother was a fuckhead.
“Nope.” Still, he knew how much Sam loved to rope. “No big. I’ll make some chili and cornbread.”
“Well, you don’t have to ‘til tomorrow, right?”
“Nope.” He grinned at Sammy, reaching out to tweak a nipple through the thin shirt.
“Bitch.” Look at that happy-assed smile.
“Uh-huh. I like what I like.” Wait. Did that even make sense?”
Sammy chuckled. “I like you. Wanna dance?” Those tanned hands grabbed him, waltzed him across the kitchen.
“I do!” Beau hummed, the tune an old one he only half remembered.
They fit right together, the dogs howling and baying around. It was Petunia who finally stopped them, putting her pregnant self between them and the dog cookies, whining and wagging. They got to laughing, holding on to each other.
“Poor knocked-up baby’s starving to death.”
“She thinks we’re going to get into bitey faces.”
Sam snorted. “Did I tell you? The clown’s buying Coke hounds.”
“No shit?” Beau shook his head. “What kind?”
“Bassets.”
“Oh, Lord. Couldn’t he get something tall enough that Coke don’t have to bend?”
Sammy blinked. “I didn’t think to tell him that, Boug…”
“Coke will love it, no matter what.” He gave Sam a sideways glance. “That whole thing ever freak you out a little?”
Sammy grinned. “Me? Nah. Dillon’s been hunting that scarred ass for a long time.”
“Yeah, I know. Think it surprised Coke to get snared.” Beau grinned, thinking how the old man was happier with Dillon than without.
“Shit. Coke just bought his own press. The man ain’t old.”
“I know. Now he does, too.” Beau bumped Sam’s hips with his. “Get our girl a cookie. I’ll get us some tea and we can go sit on the porch.”
