“Damn it.” He stared up into Raul Araripe’s eyes. Pretty son of a bitch. Pretty, solid son of a bitch. “Desculpe.” See him. See him apologize like a decent motherfucking human being.
“Nao. I was not looking.” Raul steadied him, hands on his shoulders. “You okay?”
“Sim. Sim. Fine.” Raul had long eyelashes. “Good ride today.”
“Obrigado.” That smile was like a bright light, making Raul’s eyes sparkle and the sharp features make sense. “I was going to have a drink. Want to come?”
“Sim. I could have one more.” He shouldered his bag, spreading to balance.
“Oh, good. Come.” Raul wasn’t much for talking most of the time, at least when he felt like he had to speak English. It was kind of nice. They ran into Balta coming out, and he got a look. Not reproachful, really. More surprised.
“You going back to the bar, huh?” Balta asked, blocking their way.
“Raul asked.” He surprised himself with the flash of guilt he had. “You want to come have one more?”
That dark head tilted. Sometimes Balta just seemed odd without his cowboy hat. Raul never did. Okay, maybe he didn’t need one more. He just wanted one.
“Nao. I’ll take your bag, if you want.” Balta grinned and nodded at Raul. “Don’t let him get silly. He’ll sing old Tupian children’s songs.”
Raul laughed, the sound much deeper than the man’s speaking voice. “Just a friendly one,sim?”
“I don’t sing.” He searched Balta’s eyes, searching for something to say whether the man was pissed. “You sure you don’t want a beer?”
One big hand clapped his shoulder, Balta smiling for him, the light of it reaching those pretty eyes. “No, no. You go. I’ll see you later, huh?”
Then Balta was grabbing his bag and heading off, leaving him staring at that tight bubble butt.
They headed back to the bar, nodding to Sam and Coke as they found a table. “You going to San Antonio next?”
“I am. As many as I can, you know? You and Balta going?” Raul ordered a shot and a beer, smiling at him sheepishly. “You want some food? I’m hungry.”
“Yeah. They have some things.” Yeah, he needed to hit San Antonio, needed to make some money.
“They have… Oh, what are they called? Corn dogs? Little ones.” Someone liked mini corn dogs—he could tell. Of course, what Brazilian didn’t love fried stuff? “There’s an event in um… Somewhere there, the Tuesday after. A small one.”
“Yeah? I ought to go. Make some money.” They got him a beer, both of them some food.
“Yeah. I been riding bad enough I need it before tonight, you know?” Winking, Raul sucked down his shot, making a face.
“You saw me ride. I know.” He chuckled, nodded. His beer slid down easy, cooling him off. Raul knew about being at the bottom. Raul was even newer to the circuit than he was. The man had talent, and would work his way up, no doubt, but it was nice to be around someone who wasn’t Balta sometimes. Balta was in his prime right now, winning all sorts of money.
“You just need to keep your chin down, I think.” He might have gotten pissed if Raul hadn’t winked at him, that smile irresistible.
He chuckled, nodded. “That and stay on the bull,sim?”
They laughed together, other riders coming over, having a drink, wandering off. When it was over Joaquim had finished two more and was starting to sway. “I should find my room.”
“I’ll walk you.” Raul had switched to Coke after one, and was far steadier. Those wide shoulders were just fine to lean on.
“Obrigado.” He blinked, hummed under his breath as they found the elevators.
“I had fun. Thank you for eating with me. Sometimes…” Those shoulders rolled in a shrug, Raul cutting off whatever he’d been about to say.
Joa nodded, reaching up to pat Raul’s shoulder. “It is lonely,sim? You need a friend,amigo, you call me.”
“Thank you.” They got on and off the elevator without much more than a few words, but when he got to his room. Raul gave him a back pounding hug. “Boa noite, Joaquim. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Boa noite, Raul.Durmo bem.” He fumbled with his key card, let himself in.
