Chapter Ten

DALTON WAS glad as fuck to leave Wyoming and head back south. They didn’t get asked so far north often, and these guys weren’t in love with Texas folks, much less a group of tolerant ones.

They’d had a shoot-out, eight fistfights, three visits from the cops, and a not-so-gentle encouragement to go back where they came from.

Jesus.

They hit the Colorado line, and he grabbed his phone and called Deb. “Hey, honey. You need me in Durango before Thursday?”

“Nope. Take some time off. Go fishing.”

“Rock on. Y’all holler if you need me. Love you.”

“Love you too.” She hung up, and that was that. Family rocked.

Next he called Dustin, let him know that he was going up to Estes for a few days, and then he pulled off, leaving the caravan.

His cell phone rang immediately, Tank’s name popping up.

“Yo. What’s up?” Please don’t be an emergency. He’d been gone two-and-a-half minutes.

“You running away to join the circus?” Tank asked.

“That’s right. I’ve decided to become a lion tamer.”

“Go you. You want to stop for lunch before you peel off completely? I’m buying. Then I’m on my way to Glenwood.”

“Sure. Where?” Lord, Tank had decided to become friends all of the sudden. Weird.

“There’s a Beau Jo’s in Fort Collins.”

“Works for me. I’ll meet you there.” He hung up and put the address in his GPS before turning the music back up loud.

It didn’t take long to coast into Fort Collins and find the Beau Jo’s downtown. The whole damn rodeo company loved their mountain pies, but eating with just Tank would be a treat.

He couldn’t help it. He knew Tank was out of bounds, but the man was still damn fine. And funny. And smarter than people gave him credit for.

And anyway, what could a lunch hurt?

The place was crowded, but he could tell the lunch rush was wrapping up, so he flagged down the hostess. “Two, please.”

“You got it. Booth or a table?”

“It don’t matter, ma’am.”

“This way.” She pulled out two menus, but Tank’s voice stopped him.

“Wait up, and I’ll come with.”

“There’s my other.” He nodded to Tank. “Hey there.”

“Hey, buddy.” Tank slapped his shoulder. “Smells good in here.”

“God yes. I could eat here three times a day.”

They grinned at each other as the hostess sat them. “Buffet or menu, guys?”

“Buffet,” they said together.

She laughed softly, shook her head. “Go for it. What do you two want to drink?”

A beer. “I’d like iced tea, please.”

“Same here,” Tank murmured. “Salad wagon?”

“Go ahead, guys. I’ll bring drinks.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He headed for the salad bar and loaded up. He’d order himself an extra pie for tonight and tomorrow, nosh on it as he relaxed. That way he wouldn’t have to stop, except at a gas station for drinks and maybe Hot Tamales. He did love those silly candies.

He was starving, and he got a little bit of everything, covering it with ranch before heading back for the table. Tank sailed past him with a plate as big as his head, all buried under blue cheese, from the smell of it. Lord, they were both gonna be groaning.

They hadn’t even started on the pizza.

Tank beamed at him. “Thanks for stopping, Dalton. It’s boring as hell to eat alone, and I was craving.”

“I hear you. Seriously. Eating alone is awful. You heading to Glenwood, huh? I’m going to Estes.”

“Yeah? What’s up there besides Rocky Mountain Park?”

“Cooler weather. Coffee shops. Fishing.” A couple of beers and some long naps in the sun.

“That’s Glenwood for me. Well, and soaking in the hot springs. My leg loves that.”

“Yeah? Cool. You should have a ton of soaking time before Durango.”

“I should.” Tank glanced up, eyes shuttered by his lashes. “You meeting up with anyone?”

“Nah. I just made the decision half an hour ago. You know how that is.”

“I do. Look, I got a suite thing at the Hot Springs Lodge, you want to come with me.”

“Yeah? How long’s the drive?” A soak, a hotel bed… that might be cool.

“Couple three hours. There’s all sorts of mountains to see. Forty-five minutes to Aspen. Good fishing.” Tank took a break from the hard sell to munch a tomato.

“Huh.” He had a couple hours to Estes, really, and no campground booked. “You sure you don’t mind?”

“Not one bit. I like having you around.” That was a full-on look, not a stolen glance.

Okay. Okay, what was that? His cheeks heated and he bent to his salad. Lord, maybe this was a bad idea.

Then again, he would get to see Tank in swim trunks.

And what if he got to Estes and there was no room? He didn’t want to stay in Denver, and Steamboat was too far off the beaten path. Glenwood was just off I-70.

“Well then, if you’re sure, sounds good.” He could soak, maybe go up to see Doc Holliday’s grave.

“I think it sounds like a plan.” Tank just beamed at him.

“Cool. You want me to order an extra pie for the hotel or….”

“Shit yes. I was going to get some to take with.” There had been a Beau Jo’s in Glenwood, he’d heard, but those folks had packed up and moved to the Dakotas.

Of course, there was supposed to be a damn good steakhouse in town…. “Good deal. I do like this place.”

“Me too.” They headed to the buffet after a few minutes of grazing, both of them choosing the super thick braided crust Beau Jo’s was famous for. They would have dessert when they poured honey on that crust at the end.

They ate so much they looked like ticks, and he was three-quarters tempted to climb into his trailer and have a nap.

Tank ordered a mountain pie with pepperoni and olives, and one with sausage and green chile. Which was Dalton’s favorite.

That made him a little fluttery, deep in the pit of his belly. “You want me to chip in?”

“Nah. You can buy at Juicy Lucy’s. I like the artichokes.”

“I’m never going to eat again.” Well, at least not for a few.

“Uh-huh.” Tank snorted. “Oh man, we ought to hike Hanging Lake. You ever done that?”

“Not since I was a kid. We used to go up a lot when Pops was working the state finals.”

“Cool. I love it up there. The water is so clear it hurts.”

He’d probably never heard Tank use so many consecutive words.

“Well, I don’t have to be back at work ’til Friday. We can explore.” He hoped there would be two beds; otherwise he’d be in trouble.

“Yep.”

The pies came, and Tank groaned. “On the road again, huh?”

“Yeah. Like a band of cowboys, right?” They looked at each other, and then they began to sing Willie together, Tank’s voice like a foghorn.

They laughed all the way out the door, the stares from other customers cracking them up. Tank tucked the pizzas away in the Yeti in the back of his truck, then waved him on. “Hot Springs Lodge. Holler on my cell if you need me.”

“I’m on it. I’ll probably stop and grab coffee in Vail.”

“Good deal. There’s a nice Starbucks in Avon too. Off the road, but nice.” Tank slapped the side of his truck. “Okay, meet you there.”

“Safe travels.” He loaded up and put the hotel in his phone. Time to go play.

With Tank.

Christ.

Lord love a duck, this was fixin’ to be weird.