Chapter Nineteen
The hotel was less than perfect.
Balta hated to be a snob, but the bedcovers looked like a thousand people had slept on them duringCarnivale. He shook his head. No. It would never do. He picked up the phone and called his sports agent, growling when he got the assistant. “I need a new hotel, as soon as possible. No, something with a hot tub. Clean sheets.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Sweet girl. Balta shifted from foot to foot, working out his hips. It took maybe five minutes for the girl to come back. “There’s not much in such a small town, Balta, but I got you at the Ramada. It has a nice pool.”
“That’s perfect. You’ll reserve?”
“I will. You go on.”
“Thank you.” Grinning, he hung up and grabbed his duffel, meeting Joaquim at the door, coming in with ice.
“Uh. You going somewhere?” Joa took a piece of ice, crunched it.
“We are. Someplace clean. I want you on the bed. But not that one.”
“Oh. Is…” Lovely boy. Beautiful confusion. “Did you find another room?”
“I did.” Balta took the ice bucket and set it down, then grabbed Joaquim’s hand. “Get your bag,amante.”
He got a quick, happy grin, the fastest kiss on Earth. “I haven’t unpacked it yet.” Joa grabbed the blue bag and swung it over his shoulder. The thing was nearly as tall as its owner.
They left the nasty place behind, and Balta grinned at Sam Bell and Beau Lafitte, who were checking out, as well. He’d bet someone had mixed up the hotels somehow. Usually the event organizers did a much better job.
“You search a barn, Balta?” Sammy grinned at him around the toothpick in his mouth.
“Sim. You?”
“Boug and me ride with Coke and Dill. Good bean for his back.”
Balta shook his head. “Obrigado, but no. We have a room.” He wanted privacy.
He waved, attention caught again by that perfect, lovely ass heading out the glass doors on the way to his pickup. Joaquim had a great truck. He really did. Balta appreciated the large cab and the tinted windows.
“Where’m I heading?” Joaquim was bouncing, humming along with the radio.
“The Ramada. I think it’s down the road a few miles, huh?” Look at that pretty man. Balta reached over, stroking one long thigh.
“Mmm. Balta. Driving.” That thigh went tight, hard, bouncing under his touch.
“I know,namorado. But I can tease.” He loved to tease. To play.
“You can. Better than anyone.” Joaquim’s nostrils flared, that throat working.
“Mmm.” His pinky slipped over the seam of Joaquim’s jeans, touching a tiny bit.
“Balta.” The leather around the steering wheel creaked as Joaquim’s fingers tightened. That was a glorious scent—man and leather.
“Sim. I thought we needed a nice clean bed. I have an idea…” Such an idea. It was a pretty image in his head.
“An idea?” Oh, that was interest.
“Yes. A very nice one. There, on the right.” Even from the outside the Ramada seemed cleaner.
“Looks like a bunch of us headed over.” Joaquim slid in behind Cotton and Packer, honking once to make the big Australian drop his bag.
