The onion rings came—a huge pile of crunchy goodness on a platter—and Coke moaned.
They got ketchup and malt vinegar. “Can we have some mustard, hon?” Dillon knew Coke would want mustard for his fried side dishes. It was a Texas thing.
Coke grinned, nodded. “And a thing of ranch dressing.”
God, he loved the way Coke said ‘rainch’. It made their waitress blink, but she nodded and bounced off. She was getting cuter.
Those dancing eyes landed on the onion rings, sizing them up. “Man, how are we going to attack this…?”
“Don’t pull from the bottom. Oh, and the first few, you have to cut open, or they’ll burn you.” Man, wait until Coke saw the patty melts.
“No burning your tongue, Mr. Walsh.”
Oh.
Oh, that expression was sex personified.
Okay.
Dillon damned near swallowed said tongue thinking about what he would do with it later. Maybe he needed water, too.
Coke’s grin was slow, wicked, pure fucking sex. And all his.
Dillon cleared his throat. “No. No burning.”
“Good deal.”
The mustard and the ranch dressing came, then they dug in, dipping and chatting, goofing off like the huge dorks they were.
“Dillon? Dillon, you’re in town! How are you, man?” Tim Berringer walked over, grinning at him. The man got bigger every winter, the plow man just swelling.
“Good. Good. How are you?” He stood briefly to shake hands, just to be polite.
“I’m real good. Sold your sister some calves last spring. They’re looking good.”
“Cool.” He stayed out of Susan’s business for the most part. She beat him up when he didn’t.
“You going to be around for the Christmas parade? We’re hunting a grand marshal.”
“Oh.” Man, sometimes being the local celebrity was… Wow. “Uh. If Coke wants to be in a parade, sure.”
“Coke? Coke Pharris? You’re in town? Man, sir, it’s an honor to meet you. I saw you twenty years ago in the National. There’s never been anyone so good.”
Coke grinned, stood, and shook Tim’s hand. “Well, ain’t that good of you to say?”
“It’s the truth. You’re Fearless Pharris!”
Dillon beamed a little. It was good to see Coke get his props.
“Would you like to have a sit, sir?”
Tim grinned wide, actually bounced. “I’d love to, but I can’t. My daughter’s going on her first date tonight, and I promised the missus I’d be there to glower and threaten, so I gotta hustle. I’d love to have coffee one morning, though. If you’re gonna be in town.”
“He’ll be around, yeah.” Dillon grinned. “I’ll call about the parade.”
“Excellent. Janie will be tickled.”
Albert called Tim, held up a paper to-go bag.
