Chapter Twenty-Two

 

 

DALTON WOKE up early and headed to the barns with a cup of coffee. Aaron was already there, feeding all the horses.

“Hey, boss. How goes?”

“Good. Good. You?” He rubbed Jenny’s soft velvety nose, her ears.

“Fine as frog hair. You want to come look at something for me?” Aaron jerked his head toward the back of the barn, where they quarantined injured or ill animals.

“Sure. You seen Dustin yet?”

“Yeah, he stopped in a few minutes ago. He went to put the travel trailers away for y’all.”

“Nice. What’s up?”

“Sierra cracked a hoof. I been working on it, and the farrier has been out, but I want to make sure you don’t think it needs the vet.”

“Well, shit. I’ll give it a look.” A sniff too. He didn’t take chances with his babies.

“Thanks. I just know how much she means to you.”

“They all do, huh?” He started talking to her before opening the stall door. She came right to him, her big head bobbing. Sierra had been with him since his first adult roping championship when he was seventeen. She wasn’t competing anymore, but she was still his favorite pleasure horse. “Hey, baby. You got a bad hoof? You going to let me look?”

She huffed at him, which told him she felt a little ill-used, but she let him lift just fine, and he was pretty pleased with what he saw. “Oh, you’re gonna be fine, lady love. Aaron’s been treating you good.”

“How’s she look, boss?”

“Great. I think unless she takes a turn the other way, we don’t need Doc. You’re doing an amazing job, buddy.”

“Rock on. Thanks, man. I’m trying to do you proud.”

Dalton grinned. Aaron was a good kid, solid to the core, and the family adored him. “You’re doing great.”

The scrape of boots over barn floor made them both glance up, and there was Tank, grinning at them over the stall door. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Sure. You want to turn on the water in the trough?”

“You got it.” Tank headed off, and he heard whistling and water running.

“Hey, Tank. Dee. Good morning. I parked your trailer and plugged you in. Don’t forget to clean out your fridge.” Dustin leaned against the stall door. “Hey, Miss Sierra. You want a carrot?”

She damn near knocked Dalton down to get her treat. Looked like she was feeling fine.

“You trying to get me trampled?”

“You know it.” Dustin grinned over at him. “Mornin’. You want to go to the diner?”

“Yep. We need to go to the store, so I figured we’d take Tank.”

“Course. I’m ready for some migas.”

“Uhn.” He wanted huevos Mexicanos, and he would bet Tank got an omelet with pancakes on the side….

“I know, right? We eat out all the time, but it’s our diner.”

“Exactly.” Dustin gave him a grin, and Aaron snorted.

“Y’all are scary.”

“Always.” He loved when they did that, managed to speak their minds as one.

“Full up. Hey, Dustin.” Tank came back to them, bouncing on his toes like he was getting ready to work the arena. He looked happy as a lark.

“Morning, Mister. We’re talking about going to get breakfast and groceries. Wanna?”

“I do.” Tank beamed, but the look Tank turned on Dalton was hotter. Just for him.

He never doubted that Tank knew which twin he was. This one man would never mistake them.

“Bring me back some loaded hash browns?” Aaron asked. He pulled out his wallet and offered Dalton a five.

He waved the money away. “Will do.”

“Thanks, boss.”

“Hey, I’m Tank Martin.”

Aaron chuckled. “I know who you are, sir. You’re a legend.”

Tank hooted. “Like the chupacabra?”

“Oh, you know, I got this friend who had troubles with them….”

Dalton groaned. “Aaron….”

Aaron winked. “Y’all have fun. Loaded.”

“Got it.” Dalton shoved past Sierra, who was nosing over the stall gate, looking for more carrot. “Let’s go, y’all.”

“Who’s driving?” Dustin asked.

“I can. Let me grab my wallet and my keys. You ask Momma what she needs from the store, Bubba?”

“I got a list. I also made a list for us. Tank, you’ll need to let us know what you want to drink and snack on.”

“I can do that.” Tank headed for the house, moving nice and easy, like he belonged there. Dustin seemed to think it was so too, they were so easy together.

Dalton grabbed his wallet and his keys, then fed the dogs kibbles on the porch. Tank and Dustin waited out by the trucks, both of them on their phones, tapping away.

Cowboys and cell phones. It was a thing.

Dalton headed to the truck. “Come on, you two. Food and then, well, more food.”

“Right.” Tank chuckled. “Sounds like my kind of day.”

“Momma says she’s making fried chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy. Cherry pie.”

“Oh God. I’ll have to bring half the migas home.”

“It’s early. She won’t be ready for us until a late lunch.”

“True.”

“We can work it off, boys.” Tank stretched, cracking his neck.

“There’ll be a feast and a party. Cards, horseshoes, bonfire.” He couldn’t wait.

Dustin chuckled. “Hell yeah. Beer.”

“Beer and we can walk home if we need to through the pasture, right?” How many times had they done that?

“Yes. I’m tickled.”

“So this is why you never have more than one on the road, Dustin?” Tank was grinning, that look one of a man who was about to tease.

“You know it. I got to keep my head on straight.”

“You do.” Tank shook his head. “I was about to call you a lightweight, but you got a point.”

Dustin shrugged. “I’m in charge after hours.”

Dalton didn’t know about that. Deb was in charge of a lot, and he wasn’t a slack. Hell, he kept his head pretty fucking clear on the road, right?

Still, he got what Dustin was saying, and unlike most, he knew Dustin hated to be drunk or high. He was a control freak.

Him? He sorta… liked losing it.

Tank helped with that. No alcohol required.

He told himself not to blush, not to let on how that revved him up.

Bubba still glanced at him, one eyebrow going up.

He just hopped in the truck. La, la, la. No talking. Tank was gonna drive, it looked like, which was nice. His pickup had a ton of room.

“You know I’m going to razz you for an eternity, right, Dee?”

“Shut up, Bubba.”

“Did I miss something?” Tank hopped into the driver’s seat.

“Nope.”

“Not a thing.”

Tank gave him the stank eye. “Uh-huh.”

He went for innocent, knowing full well it wouldn’t work.

A snort told him he was right. “Which way at the gate?”

“East.” He pointed. “It’s on the way into town.”

“Thanks.” Tank got them going, humming along with FGL on the radio.

Pretty soon they were all singing together, laughing as they pulled into the little nondescript building that was the diner.

“I know it doesn’t look like much,” Dustin said.

“Smells good.” Tank winked back at Dustin. “That’s all that matters.”

“It’s amazing—good coffee, great cook, better sauce.” He did miss his salsa when he wasn’t in Texas.

“Good deal.” They all piled out, Tank holding the door for them when they reached the entrance.

The café, which didn’t even have a name, so far as he knew, had five little tables and a single long counter with six stools. Patricia waved at them, her gold tooth glinting.

“You came home! Mira! Mama! The gemelos are home!”

Dustin got his hug first, and then Dalton got one. “Come sit. Is Miss Deb coming out?”

Dustin shrugged. “I ain’t talked to her yet, Patty, but I’ll text.”

“If not, I will make her pecan pancakes to take home.”

“Oh, and Aaron wants loaded hash browns,” Dalton said.

“Of course he does. Who is this?”

“This is Mr. Tank. He’s a bullfighter with us. He’s staying with me. Tank, this is Miss Patricia, a queen among women and my momma’s best friend. Her mama makes the best sauce in Texas.”

“Now that’s great praise. Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” Tank shook hands with Patricia. “The boys tell me everything is good here.”

“Yes. Have a seat. Coffee?”

“Please.” They went to “their” table, and Dalton handed Tank one of the raggedy laminated menus from the holder. “They’re open for breakfast and lunch every day but Easter and Christmas.”

“I would be here every day getting fat.” Tank sat next to him, which heated Dalton’s whole body right up.

“You’ll find some of us here every day. Dakota waits tables on the weekends, even.” He grinned, because in his head, Dakota was a little girl in pigtails, not a high school junior.

“Lord. I haven’t seen her in what? Seven years? Eight? Surely she’s not old enough to wait tables.” Tank shook his head, looking a little shell-shocked.

“She’s seventeen. She’s a junior rodeo queen and one hell of a barrel racer.” Dalton got it. “And Darius is having the time of his life at college.”

“Good for them.”

Dustin rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Buttheads.”

“Y’all were buttheads in high school too,” Tank reminded them.

“We were angels,” he shot back, even though he knew better. They’d had Deb to help their exploits and each other to feed off. They’d been out of their minds and in trouble more than they were out.

Then Pops had put them to work, exhausting them enough that they had to rest.

He figured that would happen soon enough with the younger Jakobys.

Maybe not Darius. He didn’t seem to have the rodeoing gene. Poor kid.

That had to suck in their family.

“Oh God.” Tank was looking at the menu, eyes wide. “I want one of everything.”

“I like the huevos Mexicana best, but Bubba likes the migas, and the huevos rancheros are pretty special.”

“Hmm. I’ll get the rancheros, then. With pecan pancakes, since she mentioned them.”

Rock on. That meant he could steal a few bites.

Patty brought three coffee cups over. “Anyone need creamer?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She grabbed the little dish of creamers from the table beside them. “Okay, what you gonna have, Mr. Tank? I know the boys’ orders.”

Tank ordered, which made Patricia chuckle. “I like a man who eats.”

“Deb says she’s helping Momma at the main house, so she’ll take hers to go. Also, supper’s at five. Momma’s frying chicken.” Dustin grinned like that was the best news ever.

“Tell her we’ll bring tamales.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Oh, tamales. Hell yes.

“Damn, I haven’t had those in an age. My momma’s sister-in-law Terri makes them at Christmas.” Tank chuckled. “Or I guess she still does.”

“Juana, that’s Patty’s mama? She makes them every week on Friday.”

“Yum.” Tank rubbed his belly. “Gonna have to start working out.”

“We have a gym at my place,” Dustin told Tank. “Because Dalton put in the media room.”

“Oh?” Tank glanced at Dalton, then nodded at Dustin. “Well, if you don’t mind….”

“Course not. Unless y’all are going to start telling me I can’t come watch movies and play Resident Evil….”

Dalton snorted. “Right. Like I’d do that.”

Tank snorted. “I’d get my ass kicked out first, I bet.” He winked, though, not looking worried a bit.

“We’re a family and a half, aren’t we?” Dalton knew that, but it was their strength, the good and bad about them.

“You’re amazing.” Tank touched Dalton’s leg under the table, the constant reassurance the man offered making him feel easy in his skin.

“We are.” Dustin grinned and leaned back. “It’s good to be—are those your buddies out there, Tank?”

Tank glanced out the window. “Lord. Yeah, they said they were getting a hotel.”

“The Daylite sends people here,” Patricia said, beaming as she refilled their coffee. “Especially the cowboy ones.”

“Well, Buick said he’d see me around.” Tank squeezed his leg. “He’s something else.”

“He is.” Dalton had to admit that man was charismatic as hell.

“Hey, guys!” Buick led in three more cowboys, taking a seat behind theirs. “How’s it hanging?”

“Good. Good. It’s great to be home.” Dustin grinned over, cool as a cucumber.

“I bet. We needed someplace less busy than home, right, guys? A hot tub and a pool.”

The local motel was used to rodeo guys coming in for training or to see Pops, and for a little place? They did a damn fine job. They had all sorts of amenities, and they had trailer parking.

“Sounds good.” Tank gave Dalton a look, one of those that curled his toes.

Yeah, they’d christened the hot tub last night, in the best possible way. He grinned, then blushed when Buick gave him a thumbs-up. Lord, was he that transparent?

Hell, maybe it was Tank that Buick knew so well. Maybe they just had it written on their skin.

It wasn’t like he was going to change it, was he? Not a chance. He was going to ride this one as far as he could, and he was a hell of a rider.

“You like to cook, Tank?” Dustin asked. “Or are you more a grill guy?”

“I’m a griller. I cook outside anytime I can, but I’m not a kitchen wiz.”

“That’s why we’re all lucky we have Deb and Momma, right, Dee?”

“You know it. I don’t think Dakota is ever gonna learn.” He wasn’t sure the babies were ever going to grow up. Ever. Maybe that was okay. They got to take advantage of him and Bubba and Deb being overly responsible. Or whatever.

“She’ll figure out what she wants,” Tank said easily. “Deb takes after your momma, so Dakota has to go her own way.”

“She doesn’t have a problem figuring out what she wants, from what Momma says, just whether or not she ought to want it.” He shook his head and sighed. He was glad he wasn’t a girl. They were more complicated. Hell, just the thought of being able to catch pregnant wigged the fuck out of him.

He just… whoa.

“You’re all red, Dee.”

“Yeah, following trains where I don’t belong.”

Tank raised an eyebrow. “Do we want to know?”

“Nope.”

The coffeepot came back around, and he got a free pass on that one, because Tank had to find just the right balance of sugar and cream for this new-to-him brew.

It made him grin, the way Tank loved his coffee.

“So, what do y’all plan to do tomorrow?” Buick asked, turning to talk to them. “There’s a local museum!”

He imagined he would be nursing a hangover and spending the day in the pool, if he was honest.

“We’re having a big old spread at the main house tonight,” Dustin said. “Y’all should come. Bring yourself some drinks and something to share. Momma’s making fried chicken.”

Good. Yes. Invite Tank’s ex, Bubba. Good job.

“Oh, that would rock, huh guys?” Buick bounced. “Awesome.”

Tank rolled his eyes. “Bring something that won’t offend Mrs. Jakoby, huh? No store pies.”

“Got it.” Buick chuckled. “How about chips and dip?”

“That works.”

“We can bring enough to munch on for days,” one of the other riders said. “What’s your favorite, Dalton?”

“I like jalapeño ranch. Bubba likes pimento cheese.”

“French onion,” Buick and Tank said together.

“Okay, then. One of everything.”

Patricia brought their plates, then fetched the other guys’ coffee. The eggs were hot as hell, the jalapeños green and sharp as razors. Fuck yeah.

“Oh, look at that.” Tank moaned a little. “Yum.”

“You want a bite?” Dalton scooped up a nibble and handed the fork over.

Tank nipped the bit right up. “Oh, I’ll get those next time.” Then he looked at the huevos rancheros and dug in.

Conversation stopped as they feasted. His meal came with beans and rice, and God, this was the best. He loved the beans here.

Tank hummed happily over the fluffy, golden pancakes too. He shared a bite of that with Dalton, who loved how Tank wasn’t shy with butter and syrup.

“So damn good.”

“You three sound like you’re having an orgy over there.” Buick was a turd. “You can’t hog both twins, Tank, my man.”

“Buick.” Tank didn’t raise his voice, never snapped. He just said the man’s name and stared.

The bull rider’s cheeks went bright red. “Sorry, y’all.”

Dustin snorted. “Just keep a hat on it, huh?”

Buick nodded easily. “My mouth runs on ahead of my brain.”

“Happens to the best of us sometimes.” Dalton deserved a Brownie button for letting Buick off the hook.

“Happens to him too much,” one of the other guys said. He punched Buick on the arm.

Dalton chuckled, shook his head. Lord have mercy, he didn’t want to like Buick, but he did. The guy was just too good-natured to be mean. He would warn Buick off Dustin, but that wasn’t personal.

A traveling bull rider wasn’t what his Bubba needed.

Tank fed him another bite, distracting him.

Oh, that was nice. He hummed, letting himself enjoy it. Sweet, with that pecan flavor underneath.

Tank winked, which made it even sweeter.

“I like it.” A lot.

He had to wonder how it would be, tasting Tank with maple syrup rubbed up on…. Stop it. Just be nice.

Dalton put that thought away for now. They would pull it back out later. Alone.

He’d bet Tank would let him try.

Tank seemed open to a lot of things Dalton thought of as naughty. Rocket would have called him a dirty boy and meant it….

Good thing they wasn’t together no more, wasn’t it? The voice in his head was about as rednecky as they came.

Fuck that bastard, and the noise Rocket had put in his head.

Tank leaned close. “You okay? You got all tense. Buick don’t mean any harm.”

“I’m fine as frog hair. Just a ghost trampling over my grave.”

“Uh-huh.” Tank nudged him with the closest elbow. “I got your back. You know that, right?”

“Yessir. I know.” He knew. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew.

“Okay. Just making sure.”

Patricia came around with more coffee, and talk turned to rodeo.

The bull riders joined in, and then a few riders that were camping close by came in, a couple three drovers from the ranch. He felt like now he was home, laughing and poking fun, the scents of food and coffee everywhere.

This was what he loved most, aside from being on horseback. This life. And Tank was right there. It was a dream.

When Pops and Uncle Roy came in, that made it perfect.

“Hey, boys!” Pops raised a hand, smiling. “Miss Patty! Good morning!”

“Coffee and pancakes, Denver?”

“Yes, ma’am. Missus kicked me out.”

“She’s cooking. I’ll bring food—tamales, enchiladas.”

“I know you will, lady. I can’t wait.” Pops kissed Patricia’s cheek.

“My turn!” Uncle Roy grabbed her and kissed her playfully, making Patty laugh.

She smacked his chest. “Pancakes, old man?”

“Old? You wound me. Add some bacon.”

“You got it.” She mouthed turkey bacon at them before disappearing into the kitchen. Pops and Roy took the table on the other side of them from Buick and the guys.

“Hail, hail, the gang’s all here.” He sipped his coffee, nodded to Pops. “We’re going to head to the house after we buy groceries.”

“Good. Pick me up some Twinkies.” Pops pulled out his wallet, handed over the ten he pulled out.

“Momma will fuss.” He’d do it anyway, of course.

“I’ll freeze them and have one a week.” Pops winked.

“You get hell for Twinkies, huh?” Tank asked. “My granddaddy used to get it for dry roasted peanuts. He wasn’t supposed to eat so much salt.”

“Doctors are devils set to make us all unhappy,” Pops muttered.

“Right?” Roy slapped the table. “Ain’t like we don’t work it off.”

“True that.” Pops grinned. “Lord, boys, is it good to be home?”

“Hell yes.” Dustin sounded so damn satisfied.

He nodded. “It was time to settle for a little while.”

“It’s good to charge up sometimes,” Tank said.

Pops grunted. “Sometimes. Hell, your momma wants me home to deal with your hellion sister all the time.”

“Well, she’s been holding the fort a long time.” Patricia refilled their coffee.

“Since Deb was born, hrm?”

“Yep.” Patricia winked.

“He loves it,” Dustin said. “That Momma wants him home.”

Pops shrugged, but his smile told the story. Him and Momma had a love story for the ages.

Tank chuckled. “They’re something. I can’t wait to see your momma.”

“Me either. It’s been too long since I got a hug.”

“I bet.” Tank stroked his leg again, making him want other kinds of touching that had nothing to do with familial anything.

“Y’all about ready to hit the store? Momma’s starting to text.” Dustin winked at him, eyes just twinkling.

“Guess we’d better.” He waved Patricia over. “We need to get a move on, hmm?”

“You taking Deb’s food?”

“Yeah, and Aaron’s, please, ma’am.”

“You got it.” She took his card when he handed it over. “Be right back.”

“I could’ve got it,” Tank said.

“You can get the next one, hmm?” They all took turns.

“Cool.” Tank bounced up when they all got ready to leave, Patricia bringing the to-go orders. Time for the store.

“Let’s do this. Snacks and steaks and burgers and Momma’s list.”

Tank rubbed shoulders with him on the way out the door.

“Let’s do this thing, and then we’ll go see Momma.” They climbed into the truck and headed out. Store. Groceries. Maybe a nooner. Then fried chicken.

Fucking A.