Chapter Eighteen

“LOOK AT y’all, having a party.”

The big-time bull riders swooped in, bringing a case of beer and a couple huge boxes of Wallyworld chicken, chairs, and a rush of noise.

Deb smiled over, and Dustin beamed. “Hey, y’all! Join us!”

Dalton managed a smile, because they’d all been real nice, decent. Hell, he knew he was just a jealous butthead, stressing about all the larger-than-life personalities they had. These were people who did commercials, TV, that were flashy.

Athletes in jeans.

He was just a pick-up man, and he worried. These guys kept trying to draw Tank back to the big show with them, and then what would Dalton do?

He chuckled softly. He’d do his job. This was what he was born for, what he was built for. A broken heart had never stopped him before, had it?

No, he wasn’t gonna think on that too much.

Tank had been at the medical trailer, sitting with one of the bull riders, a young kid just up from Pasadena. He showed up a few minutes after the guys from the big show, Buick Davis in tow.

Dalton grabbed a beer, trying not to stare. He wasn’t sure how much he needed to keep quiet. Tank had a life outside the company, a reputation.

Tank clapped Buick on the back before jerking his chin toward the other guys. Then Tank came toward Dalton, his smile widening. “Hey, you. Good show, huh?”

“Hey, stranger. It was. A few damn good rides, and did you see those ropers? God, I love to watch the Texas crew.” There were none better.

“Yeah. The broncs were pretty decent. I was surprised. They’re usually way more sluggish down here.” Tank grabbed a Coke out of the cooler. “You want anything?”

“Dr Pepper, please. There’s burgers and dogs and fried chicken for our feast.”

“I saw. I love it.” Music started up, and damn if Tank didn’t shake it for him a little.

He applauded, and there was a spatter of laughter from all over. Oh. Oh, all right. This was still all right.

Tank handed him his Dr Pepper. “I told Doc if I had to, I would take Dan into the ER, so I need to lay off the beer.”

“What’s up with him?”

“Well, he hit his head pretty hard. Doc is watching him, but he’s worried.”

“Okay. Well, Regional’s up on the loop here. It’s not a bad drive at all.”

“Cool.” Tank sank down next to him, the lawn chair creaking. “How’s Dustin doing without your pops?”

Dalton grinned. Dustin was bitching up a storm, but Dalton knew he loved it. The man was thriving on the responsibility, on the ability to streamline. “He’s having a fucking ball, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Nope. Never.” Tank stretched, all that tanned skin on display. So pretty.

“You have fun at the fair?”

“I did.” Tank leaned close. “That corn dog was totally worth it.”

Man, he’d pay to watch Tank eat that, yessir. “I’ll have to make you one at the house.”

“You can make them at home?” Tank put on an exaggerated O face.

“I have an airfryer. You bet your sweet ass I can.”

“Look at you.” Tank laughed, that huge sound he loved drawing some admiring looks. It drew Buick and the others too, the crowd of five guys seeming so much bigger. They set up chairs all about, eating and laughing, and it got so loud. The stories were flying, and the others gathered around, listening avidly about the big show, the big bulls, the big money.

Dalton’s jaw hurt from gritting his teeth. No one was being evil; he was just… tired.

His phone beeped, Dustin texting him with Big egos. Big mouths. Big stories. Home Monday for 8 weeks.

8 weeks. God, he sent back. It sounded like heaven.

Hang in there, Dee.

I will. Want a Ding Dong?

yes pls

“Gonna grab a sweet,” he muttered, standing up and offering a random smile at no one.

Tank watched him. Dalton saw the narrow-eyed expression from the corner of his eye. He wanted that Ding Dong, though.

Dalton grabbed three, headed for Dustin, and passed over a sweet. “Hey.”

“Hey. You cool?”

“Yep.”

“Good.” Dustin took the Ding Dong, tore it open quickly. “You looked a little grumpy.”

“Did I? I was hiding it.”

“Not from me. I bet from everyone else, yeah.” Dustin winked.

“That’s okay, then.” No one could read him like Bubba.

“He coming home with us?”

“Yeah, he is. He asked.” And it had felt so good too.

“Oooeee.” Dustin gave him a high five. “Sounds serious.”

“I don’t know, but it’s intense. Real.” Addictive.

“Just….” Dustin looked over to where Buick had moved into Dalton’s chair. “Be careful.”

“Yeah. I know.” How was he supposed to compete with the big leagues?

“Just saying.” Dustin moved closer. “What’s with Rocket?”

“I don’t know, Bubba. He shows up in Glenwood like he belonged there. How did he know? How did he know where I was?”

“I don’t know, but we need to find out. He’s creepy as fuck. I mean, thank God Tank was with you.”

“Yeah, I mean… seriously. He was all in my business. I don’t need that.” Rocket had made him feel like a slut, like a whore. The man had mocked him as often as they’d had sex, maybe more.

Tank never made him feel dirty.

In fact, Tank made him feel like the only guy on earth. He grinned hugely, which earned him an elbow from Dustin. “Now, I know you’re not thinking of Rocket.”

“Who?” He winked over.

“Uh-huh.” Dustin inhaled his Ding Dong. “Want some apple pie?”

“Sure. Let me drop this off with Tank. Be right back.”

Tank was still watching him, which was gratifying, because Buick was talking hard. “Chocolate?” Tank asked.

“Ding Dong.” He handed it over with a wink.

“Oh, my hero. Everything okay?” Tank kept it casual, but those dark eyes missed nothing.

“Yeah. Bubba’s ready for apple pie now. Bottomless pit.”

“Y’all gonna go hit his trailer? Or do we have pie in ours?”

Ours. He did love that. “We’ll hang in ours. You want me to save you some or….”

“I could come on.” Tank stood, smiling all around. “Y’all have a good night and help clean up, huh?”

“You’re not staying to play quarters, honey?” Buick asked.

“Nah. I need to be sober in case Dan needs a lift.”

Not to mention that tomorrow was the short-go and an early day and Tank wasn’t Buick’s honey.

Tank waved, then took Dalton’s arm. “Pie.”

“Indeed. Apple.” Dalton leaned a little.

“Mmm. I do like pie. And ice cream. Or whipped cream.”

“Don’t get all sexy, you two.” Dustin joined them, grinning wide.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dalton almost managed a straight face.

“Uh-huh. I want pie. Maybe an episode or two of Face Off. No getting smoochy.”

“Don’t make me kick your ass, Dustin,” Tank murmured.

“Hell, that assumes you can tell us apart, man,” Bubba shot back.

“Always.” Tank shrugged. “I can always tell y’all apart.”

Dalton heated, from balls to bones, just beaming. He believed it too. Tank had never once confused them, even as teenagers.

In a world where folks assumed they were interchangeable, that was huge. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, sending up a prayer that Dustin found that.

“Come on, y’all. Pie. TV. If you’re going to be part of the family, this is how it works.”

Tank took his hand once they were near the trailer, humming a little tuneless song. He thought maybe Tank liked that idea. A lot.

He thought maybe he did too.