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Well, Dalton did it for him all the time, but he couldn’t figure out what to do about it now that the kid was all grown up.

As a teenager Dalton had been sweet and awkward, this scrawny little tow-headed boy. As an adult? Fuck-a-doodle-goddamn-doo.

Dalton was a little hard body, pure muscle and tan, eyes like chips of blue ice.

Tank wanted to ride him like a prize pony.

Hell, Tank wanted to take Dalton to his trailer and fuck him over the table, over the sofa, then take him to bed and watch Dalton ride his cock until the man screamed.

He sighed, then took another sip of beer, hoping the crisp, sour stuff would calm him down.

Dalton was laughing with Ben, leaning against the big bear of a man, both of them just howling.

Tank’s jealous bone reared up for a moment, even though he knew Ben was married with three kids and no intention to stray.

Dalton was unfailingly polite to him, but so fucking careful not to touch, not to do anything that might be misunderstood as a come-on. It drove him crazy.

There was something gentle about Dustin, something quiet and hidden. What creamed his butter was the way Dalton was pure fire, the one who was out front in the trenches, a horse between his thighs, a rope in his hand.

Fast as a rabbit, accurate as hell, and stubborn as the bulls he roped, Dalton had it going on.

“Howdy, stranger. Have you managed to create trouble yet?” Robin Greene plopped down beside him, the clown all fresh-faced and scrubbed clean.

He chuckled. “Are you suggesting I’m a troublemaker?”

“Shit, Tank. I’m not suggesting a goddamn thing. I’m flat-out saying it.” Robin winked at him, the tease obvious and familiar and welcome.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Robin bumped shoulders with him. “I missed having you on the circuit. I mean, I know we hung out some, but…. Well, I was never going to move up.”

Tank shook his head like he was arguing, but it was true and they both knew it. Matt Bosun was at the top of his game, and the bastard had a rock-solid contract. Robin was never going to make it up. “You still got a chance.”

“Liar. Still, I’m glad you’re back. You hold the others together, and you’re easy to beat at poker.”

Christ, a man lost a few hands of poker…. “I won the last few games I played. You just didn’t show up.”

“Shit, I always miss everything.”

“You have to take off all the greasepaint.”

“I do. Otherwise I get these looks.” Robin made exaggerated horror face. “Or I feel like Jimmy Stewart playing Buttons.”

When he just stared blankly, Robin sighed.

“Greatest Show on Earth—1952. James Stewart played a circus clown who never took off his makeup because he was on the run from the law.”

“You have an unnatural love for old movies,” Ben grumbled, moving over to sit by them.

“Just because I have exceptional taste….” Robin’s eyes rolled like dice.

“Y’all shut up.” He winked to take the sting out, and really, he didn’t need to be sitting there mooning over Dalton.

“Bossy old fuck,” Robin shot back, and they all snorted because he was the baby, for all he was the boss. Tony was thirty-five and Greg was thirty-eight.

God, he loved this. This was what he treasured. Time with his chosen family, laughing and easy in his skin, not watching his back every second. He just got to be home.

He watched Dalton as well. Like a hawk. Who was friendly, who made Dalton laugh?