Coke glanced at him and the stare he got proved that he still had it. He was learning the enigma that was Coke Pharris, but he was fast becoming the motherfucking master of that subject.
“I love you because of who you are, Coke. All of it. You wouldn’t be you otherwise.” Dillon nodded firmly and squeezed Coke’s hand.
“You too, cowboy.” Coke gave him a gentle, quiet smile. “Can we go back home and sleep in our bed, now?”
“Yes. God, yes. And I want you to soak in the hot tub. Clown’s orders.”
“Yes, sir. I’m on it.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Shit on a stick, Boston in January was fucking frigid. There’d never been cold like this in the history of cold—and there’d been a long history of cold.
Coke stood in the arena wearing twelve layers of unders and two layers of overs. “Shit, Nattie. Coop ain’t going to survive this shit.”
He wasn’t totally convinced he was going to survive, but compared to Coop, he was in great damn shape.
“I know. He’s like the Tin Man, Hoss. We’ll have to oil all his joints.”
“Shit, this is fucking ridiculous. Whose idea was this?”
Troy walked by. “Ace.”
“He’s little. I vote we kill the bastard.”
Snorting, Troy waved. “Good luck on that. Steele’s been trying for years.”
“Yeah, well he’s damn near as slow as Andy Baxter.”
“Speaking of,” Troy stopped, shuffled paper. “I see he’s here. Riding. It’s about time. What about Scott? Surely he’s been cleared by now.”
“Not yet, man. He’s around here somewhere, though. Visiting with Beau, I think.” Hiding in plain sight, just like the plan.
Jase was actually working hard on keeping his eyes focused, stopping them from doing wild things.
Bax was the basket case, not Jason.
Dillon jogged by, grabbing Troy’s hat on the way. “Can’t catch me!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Can’t you control him?”
“Not a chance.” And Coke loved it. “I kinda want to watch you run, Troy.”
“Bullshit.” Troy waved at the new gate puller, Jordan. “Go get my hat, son.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Oh, man.” Nate shook his head. “That’s so cheating.”
“I know. The bulls aren’t happy around the weather either. They just want to eat and shit.” Troy winked. “I know how they feel. Coke, how’s Coop? Do we need to call Badger in? Or Fred? He might be closer.”
“I’ll let him work tonight, I’ve already got Fred in town, just hanging.”
“Oh, good deal. I like it when y’all do your jobs.”
Coke didn’t take offense. God knew there were enough folks who waited to be told what to do. That just wasn’t his idea of a good time. He much preferred to beg forgiveness than ask permission. Hell, he wasn’t all that into begging, either.
Forgiveness, yeah. That he was working on. Dillon helped.
