“Yeah. No shit. I didn’t mean to.” He chuckled, because he didn’t know what to do with Buick.
“It’s good for the rodeo. That’s good for the family, right?”
“It is.” He jumped up and down, swinging his arms. “It is.”
The cowboys were starting to wander in, mostly bareback guys, but a few of the ropers. Dalton would be in soon, he knew, and he’d get to watch.
Tank ducked a lazy swat from Tony as he jogged by. “Man, you have to try harder.”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s hot.”
He nodded. “It’s Texas.”
“It only comes in hot,” they all chorused.
Their laughter filled the humid air, and he grinned, slowing to a trot. When he turned a corner, he saw Buick sitting on a rail, staring, so he jogged over. “Hey.”
“Hey, honey. Looking good. How’s it hanging?”
“Hot and sweaty. You’re here early.” Tank took off his hat and wiped his brow.
“There ain’t a lot to see in town of a Sunday morning.”
“Not around here, true enough.” Tank grinned. “You find you some breakfast?”
“I went to the Starbucks. I needed coffee. It’s good to see you, man. Swear to God.”
“Same here, Buick.” He did like Buick’s good nature and ready smile.
“So, the kid? Is he a thing?”
“Dalton, and yeah. He’s my thing.”Like whoa.
“No shit?” Buick chuckled softly. “Seriously, Tommy? For real?”
“For real.” He rolled his eyes at Buick calling him by his real name. Well, a version of it. He was a Thomas.
“You could do worse. He’s got a solid reputation.”
“He’s a good man and a hell of a cowboy.” That Tank knew without a doubt.
“Well, then. Good on you. Are you going to invite me to hang out with y’all during the week?”
“Uh.” He grinned wider. “Well, I can ask you to the barbecue, I guess. I’m staying at Dalton’s. We kinda want to be alone…. But I won’t say no to seeing you, man.”
“Fair enough.”
Tank loved that about Buick. The man was who he was.
Buick nudged him with one boot toe. “Be good to him.”
“I am. He gives me what I need, you know?”
“Good deal.” Buick hopped down off the gate to give him a one-armed hug. “I like him. He needs to loosen up, but I like him.”
Oh, Tank didn’t know about that. He liked how tight Dalton was. His cheeks heated, and Buick whooped, slapping his arm hard.
“Horn dog.”