“Me and Dillon are heading to his place for Christmas and all—y’all going to be home with your granny?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll go on. Everyone is invited for New Year’s.”
“We’ll see what happens. I might be staying in the Great White North.”
“Not for good?” Beau was kind of horrified by the idea. Coke would just die up there.
“God, no.” Dillon and Coke spoke together, then they cracked up.
Coke shook his head. “Shit, Cajun, Ineedmy pool.”
“Oh, good. Sammy says Dillon has a hot tub, though. In the snow.”
Sam chuckled. “It was cool. The snow melts in the damn air.”
It never ceased to amaze him—how Dillon and Sam just clicked. A lesser man would be jealous. Beau knew better, though. Sam put up with a lot to be with him.
Sam stole one of Dillon’s pickles. Dillon wiped butter on the back of Sam’s hand.
“Y’all are like children.” If children were hot and had great butts, which they didn’t. Lord.
Dillon flipped him off, and Sam chunked a piece of bread across the table, which set Coke to cackling. Beau grabbed it out of the air and munched, grinning when Coke laughed harder.
“Oh, y’all tickle the shit out of me, I swear to God.”
“Be careful, man. Dillon will actually tickle.” Sammy hooted when Dillon poked him again.
Beau felt Coke’s eyes on him, and when their eyes met, Coke gave him a slow, warm smile.
Yeah.
Yeah, it was good.
He just had to make it through the finals in one piece. Then maybe he’d surprise Sam a little with a plan to spend more time together off the road.
Hell, it might just surprise the whole bullriding world.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Shit, the crowd was on fire. They always were at the Finals. Beau’d ridden in the first group. No. Beau had set the fucking arena on fire. Sure as shit, someone was gonna start suggesting he back off, make it a race. Beau, though, Beau was riding hard.
Now he needed to get business done. Damn it. Sam rolled his shoulders, bounced a little from side to side.
Beau was there, right there, ready to pull his rope. Those bright eyes met his, and Beau nodded, letting him see the faith Beau had in him. They didn’t say anything. Wasn’t nothing to say. On. Ride. Off. Make the money.
Beau climbed over to stand on the gate, waiting for him to get in the chute.
Nobody talked to him. Everybody knew better.
Still, the crowd was fucking screaming.
Packer held his vest, quiet as a mouse, and he could see Coke and Nate setting up outside the chute. He straddled the bull, set his rope. The bull was squatting down, and he kicked its haunches. He didn’t want to have to get the two by four. The bull stood, but it was stubborn as hell, rocking side to side, then going down in the back end.
“Damn it. Nattie!”
The bullfighter ran up, two by four in hand.
They got the bull up from his crouch, finally standing still enough to strap in. From there, he didn’t dawdle. Toby’d be hunting his ass for taking too long if he did. Beau stepped off the gate, Packer let him go, and Sam nodded his head.
