“Ah.” He nodded like he got it, but really he reckoned Dillon still had a lot of Yankee in him, biologically speaking. Everyone knew Idaho folks ate a lot of meat and potatoes and not much spice. Hell, Dillon liked tofu. Him and Nattie had spent one fun three-day event stuffing Dillon’s shorts with tofu. That had been fucking funny.
Dillon grinned over. “What are you chuckling about?”
“Huh? Oh, nothing. Just remembering stuff.”
“Oh. Was it good?”
“I just love some of the jokes we play, huh? ‘Specially Sam Bell.” Lord knew that boy had a wicked streak a mile wide.
“Oh, God. Sammy is vicious.” Neither one of them mentioned that they hoped Sam still would be ready and able to play jokes.
“You remember when he dyed your hair purple? Or when he superglued Beau’s boots inside his bag?”
“God.” Cracking up, Dillon laughed until Coke was afraid they’d run off the road. “Remember when he took Nate’s shoes and filled them with that expanding foam?”
“Oh, Jesus!” He hooted. “Nattie was gonna kill him, sure as shit.”
“I know. He’d dig out a bunch and more would swell up.” One of Dillon’s hands pounded the steering wheel.
“Then Nate went and poured that clear acrylic in Sammy’s spare gloves, took the man forever to figure out what was wrong with ’em!” Coke was gonna get a stitch, laughing so hard.
“Man, we have a good life, Coke.”
“We do!” He always believed that, even when it was hard. They were free, had the best jobs on earth, had the best friends. There was nothing else he could do that would pay him to save cowboys, either.
“So, when we get to my place, we’ll have snow ice cream.”
“Ice cream that tastes like snow?” Didn’t snow taste like water?
“Nope. Just snow with sugar and food coloring.” When he stared, Dillon got laughing again.
“You’re teasing me, now…”
“No, sir. I’m serious.”
Lord have mercy, he’d like to see that. “We’re going to have so much fun, you and me.”
“I know!” Dillon patted his leg. “So much.”
“How much longer do we have?”
“Until home?” Dillon checked the road signs. “Maybe a half hour. Did you need to stop?”
“Nope, just curious.” He was actually about as happy as a pig in shit, warm and comfy, bundled up and laughing with his cowboy.
“Cool. It’s pretty up here in the spring, too. You’ll like it.”
“It’s where you are, cowboy.” He’d love it because Dillon did, and because they were together.
“Oh.” Dillon reached over and squeezed his leg.
“Mmm.” He traced Dillon’s fingers, knowing every bump and line. There was a little scar on the back of Dillon’s hand from a horse that’d bitten him.
“Why’d you start doing rodeo work, cowboy?” He knew Dillon’d done bookkeeping stuff, or at least that’s what the man’d gone to school for. College. Good Lord, him falling in love with a college man. An accountant.
“It was a dare. My sister used to drag me to rodeos for barrel racing stuff, and I bitched about the clowns.”
Yeah, he could see that.
