Beau made stirring motions at him while he talked Dillon down from the trees even more, and Sam nodded, going to save the veg.
This wasn’t nothing new.
Bull riding was a bitch of a mistress. He knew it as much as anybody.
The best a man could do was know when to break off with her and go find true love.
Chapter Twenty
“Sammy!” He heard Gramps’ voice and headed across the lobby of the big-assed hotel, nodding to different folks as he went.
“Mister Coke! I heard a rumor that you were coming back to work.”
The bullfighter was skinny, a little, but all-in-all not bad. “Yessir. It’s time. How’s you?”
“Good. Good. Beau’s checking us in.”
“Yeah? How is that Cajun?”
“Solid as a rock.” His Beau was going to take the championship, no question. “You been to see Jase?”
“Yeah.” Coke’s face clouded up, just like a thunderstorm. Did that every time someone mentioned Jason Scott. “He’s good.”
“You and Dillon want to have supper in Beau’s suite, just the four of us?” He could get some news on Jase without all the eavesdroppers, and God knew Beau didn’t want to fight the first-night crowds.
“Sure. I doubt even Dillon has had time to make plans.” Coke chuckled when Dillon bounced up, whapping Sam’s hat.
“What are you saying about me?”
“That you’re a lazy fuck.” He grinned, whapped Dillon’s hip. “Boug’s getting a suite. I was telling the old man we should room service in private, the four of us.”
“Sounds good. We can jaw.” Dillon nodded, whacking him back until they were boxing.
“Lord have mercy, you two.” Gramps’ voice was fond, warm.
“Yeah, they’re a mess, eh, cher?” Beau came up, laughing at him and Dillon, looking ready to ride.
“You know it, Cajun. What floor you on?” Coke gave Beau a grin.
“We’ll be on eight. We eating together?” Beau bumped hips with him when no one was looking. “Should we go ahead and order when we get up there?”
“We’re on eight, too. Dillon got our room. I want steak.” Coke sounded sure.
Dillon laughed. “Carnivore. Not that I’m any better. Just get me a burger and fries and some kind of pie, huh?” Like they didn’t know what Dillon would eat. Shee-it.
“I’m on it. Say, an hour?”
Coke tried to nod, winced, then stopped. “Hour and a half. Need a shower.”
He hated seeing that, he truly did.
“Make it an hour and forty-five, cher,” Beau said easily, touching Coke’s arm for a second. “It’ll be slow, what with everyone checking in and heading to the restaurant.”
Sammy winked at Dillon, who nodded. They needed to take care of their bullfighters, damn it.
“See you there.” Dillon drew Coke away, talking low and fast, probably making sure the man was okay.
“Shit, man. That sucks, huh?” He grabbed his gear, started humping it. “Here comes Ace for you, Boug. Got media folks.”
