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He had to chuckle, because Buick was a good ’un. “Let him, huh? I imagine it would be a good fight.” Buick could take a hit from a two thousand pound bull, though, and get up and walk away.

“I’d wipe the floor with him, and you know it. It means enough that it would get to that.”

Dalton appeared like magic. “Tank? I got some of Momma’s salve that she makes up to the house. Come on. I’ll get you set up with that and hot towels. They’re already in the microwave. You shoulda said.”

“Well, I didn’t know ’til I just stood up.” Tank let Dalton ease him to his feet. “Thanks, Buick.”

“You got it.”

“Thanks for looking out for him, sir.” Dalton’s smile to Buick was a little tight, but real.

Buick nodded easily. “He deserves it.”

Tank ducked his head, the attention they were drawing a bit too much. He limped off, Dalton’s hand steadying him.

“You shoulda said, honey. I’m taking him to the bird room, Momma.”

“I’ll bring the salve and towels, son.”

“I pulled the comforter off and put a plain sheet down.” Dustin took his other arm, and the twins moved him.

“I didn’t want to make a fuss.” Tank blinked, amazed at how damn bad he hurt. He guessed he’d overdone it lately, but now that they had some downtime, it was showing.

“I’ll know to look. Strip down to your skivvies, and I’ll intercept Momma.”

“Thanks.” Tank wiggled out of his jeans and shirt, glad he’d worn flip-flops. Boots might have been too much.

Dustin got him settled, then left, leaving him to Dalton, a shit-ton of hot towels and a pot of stinky stuff.

“That’s intense, baby.” He watched his arch cramp, his toes bending back.

“Uh-huh. Just lay back. I got you.” Dalton dipped his fingers in the goo and started rubbing like he meant it.

Tank went utterly still—and stiff—for a long moment. Pain dug in, and he had to grit his teeth to keep back a shout.Holy moly.

“Breathe. In and out.”

“Cramp.” He tried to do what Dalton told him, gasping in a huge lungful of air.

“Oh, honey. I’ll work it out.”

“Thank you.” He clenched and unclenched his fingers, feeling less than heroic.

“Poor leg! Tonight we’ll bubble you good.”

“That sounds fine.” He looked at Dalton, head bent, hands working his leg. “Sorry for the silliness.”

“What? Making you feel good?” Dalton wrapped his knee in the hot towel.

“No, just taking you away from the party and all.”Buick overreacted.“Feels amazing.” It so did. He relaxed all in a rush, his muscles unclenching.

“The party hasn’t started yet.”

“Okay.” He let his head sag back against the pillows. “I just feel weird.”

“This is about making you feel better.”

“It is.” He reached out, trying to touch Dalton’s arm. “Hey. Look at me a second?”