Page 28 of Lone Star Longing
“I’ve met him a couple of times.”
Con’s lack of elaboration raised some red flags. “Good guy?”
“Not worthy of Lacey, but you know, I’m not going to think anyone is.”
“Think they’ll get married?”
Con shot him a look. “Why do you ask?”
Shit. Revealed too much. “No reason.”
“Right.” Con held his gaze for a long moment, but Beck was determined not to give anything away. Finally Con relented. “So tell me all the places you’ve been. Let me live vicariously.”
Beck lifted a hand from the worn wood of the bar. “Yeah, well, I’ve been a lot of places, but I was working mostly, so I didn't get to see a lot. I mean, I was just in Las Vegas but didn't get to so much as pull the handle of a slot machine. The schedule can be pretty brutal, especially this time of the season, and when Riley is doing well in the standings. The better he does, the more work for his crew, you know?”
“But you, like, have stamps on your passport beyond Mexico, right?”
“Sure, I’ve been to Spain and Italy and Belgium, driven on the Autobahn. Was supposed to go to Russia this summer, but I guess that won’t happen now. I’d never been there.” Something in his chest sank at that realization. He’d really been looking forward to that experience. But he’d made his choice. He was pretty sure that even if he went back to Riley with a plea to work for him again, Riley would say no. He’d left the team at a vulnerable time, after all.
Con shook his head. “Man, I’d love to see a fraction of those places.”
“Why can’t you?”
“Ha.” Con pulled out his wallet to pay for the beer, and Beck put his hand out.
“Let me buy.”
“I invited you. Besides, you’re unemployed now.” Con slapped his shoulder and offered a smile, the old smile Beck was used to seeing. “Come on out Sunday. We get here about four, play some washers, drink some beer, listen to some music. It’ll be good for you to see everyone again.”
Maybe it would, maybe not. But he found himself nodding, and worse, looking forward to it.
Chapter Eight
“ARE YOU GOING OUT TOThe Wheel House this Sunday?” Beck asked Lacey as she packed up some plastic containers with the casserole she’d made in his mom’s kitchen the next day.
“What? Why?”
