A tambourine. Oh, God. Dillon popped up off the couch. “I have maracas! I’ll be right back.”
The laughter followed him all the way back to the music room he had in the back.
“It figures you’d have maracas,” Nate told him when he came back into the room.
Dillon flipped him off. “I know how to shake them, too.”
Tracy bounced and took them. “We’re starting withShook Me All Night Long. Get ready.”
Dillon noticed Coke’s eyes dragging over his body at the thought of shaking it.
Nice.
They might have to sneak out to the truck or something to get busy, but he could see it. Like, soon.
Nate tossed him the mic and they started, Tracy whispering explanations. Nate and Coke chose the hardest level, and when the song started, he damn near dropped his jaw.Look at Coke’s fingers go.
In fact, he lost them the round because he purely forgot to sing, and even as good as they played, they couldn’t save him.
“Sorry! Sorry. Can we start over?”
Nate hooted. “Absolutely!”
Apparently winning wasn’t the goal, here. Goofing off was.
This time Dillon sang his heart out and proved that he had perfect pitch once and for all. Hell, two beers later he was singing Matchbox 20 and prowling around the front room like a kitty in heat. He could feel Coke’s eyes on him, but, to his lover’s credit, not one beat was missed. Hell, Tracy gave him a standing ovation while Nate tossed him a beer.
His cheeks heated up, but hey, he was a performer, right? He cooled off with the beer, and with taking Jerome out to potty.
He heard the boys singing when he came out, Coke doing a respectable Def Leppard while Nate howled. Jerome’s ears perked up and that long muzzle lifted, the hound puppy joining along.
Dillon laughed, grabbing a bacon treat on the way through the kitchen so Jerome would follow. By the time he got to the front room, Jerome was trotting and howling and Pansy was yarping along, her yodel much higher pitched. Tracy was rolling on the sofa, laughing so hard she held her stomach, and Nate was at the guitar, chicken walking across the floor like Chuck Berry. Dillon howled in time with the pups, and Coke really poured himself into it, wailing like a crazy man.
When the song ended, he landed in Coke’s lap, the strong arms wrapping around him as the laughter filled the room.
Dillon thought about taking a kiss, but being a couple in front of people was still pretty new, so he settled for a hug. “You rock out good, babe.”
“Thanks for the game, cowboy. I sure do like it.” Coke seemed awake, and more relaxed than Dillon had seen him since Sammy’s accident.
“Me too!” Tracy was nodding all of a sudden, Pansy licking her hand where it dangled over the arm of the couch.
Nate grinned. “Been a long day, huh? All that traveling. Come on, baby. I bet Dillon’s guest bathroom is bigger than our kitchen.”
“Mmm. We could… I mean, I need a shower.” She turned bright pink.
“Uh-huh.” Standing, Nate held out a hand to his wife. “Night, y’all.”
“Night, Nattie. Pancakes in the morning, huh?” It said something—a lot—that Coke didn’t move him off to hug Tracy goodnight.
“You know it, Hoss.” Nate and Tracy waved and disappeared, heading off to go do what they were gonna do.
Dillon nuzzled Coke’s neck a little. “Happy, babe?”
“Mmm. I am. Love to hear you sing.” Coke was humming, rocking him.
“I like to sing.” He wiggled. “Like it better when you watch me dance.”
Coke gave him a great, strangled sound.
