“What do you think, babe? You’re famous.”
Coke laughed. “Shit, cowboy. You’re the face of the league. I’m just the bullfighter.”
“Nah. Ace is the face. Thank God. I just wear makeup.” Coke’s nose wrinkled when he said Ace’s name, and Dillon grabbed an onion ring. “What is it about him, eh?”
“Huh? You mean me and Ace? Shit, we just… He don’t do good by folks, and he rides us every time some boy gets hurt on camera. My boys work hard—damn hard…” He could see the anger rising.
“Hey.” He reached out and grabbed Coke’s hand. “I’m sorry, babe. It never occurred to me, huh? I just dance.” He winked, trying to ease the mood.
“Yeah. You’re the best of us. You work hard.”
His cheeks heated with the pleasure of it, because Coke meant it. Truly. God, that was hot. “Balta would say he was the best.”
“And he’s one hell of a bull rider, but you? What you got, ain’t nobody else got, cowboy. You’re the one and only.” Coke nodded like that was gospel.
Dillon was glad he was sitting down. As it was, he had to let go of Coke’s hand when the patty melts came, but he wasn’t going to be ashamed. Not one bit. Coke moaned over the burger, digging in happily, making him laugh by chasing strings of onion and dangling cheese.
They stuffed themselves, having fried pie and ice cream for dessert. “I wonder what we’ll have to do to work this off.”
“You’ll prob’ly have to shake your heinie. Lots.”
“Oh, I bet I will. And you’ll have to tell me what you think. Lots.”
Coke’s eyes lit up. “I can do that. I’mgoodat that.”
“You are. Then movies and popcorn. It’s a plan.” A fine plan.
“Yeah. Let’s go shopping, cowboy. Walk this lunch off.” Two twenties landed on the table.
“Sounds good.” Everything with Coke sounded good. They had plenty of time to hang out at Albert’s and be famous.
Coke nodded to Albert, leading Dillon out, just as easy as that.
Dillon grinned, ignoring the vibrating phone in his pocket. He was really looking forward to the rest of their day. And night.
Chapter Twelve
“Hoss? You out here?”
Coke dropped the hammer onto the wee workbench, leaving the frame he was fixing. “Nattie? Boy, is that you?”
“Yessir. I brought you some rugmonkeys.”
He popped out, arms open for hugs. “Y’all made it! How’s Miss Tracy?”
Nate grinned at him. “Pregnant.”
“Again?”
“Yessir.”
Coke hooted, grabbed up that tow-headed gal and smooched her. “Congrats, Nattie.”
“Thanks, Hoss. Shee-it, it’s cold out here.”
“You know it. Come on, y’all. Dillon’s got you all set up with rooms and all.” He kept Hailey in his arms, Little Coke following along.
As soon as they made it inside, the bassets set up an excited howl, running at the kids. Kids and dogs was always a fine combination.
