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“Damn, baby. That was nice.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tank hummed, rising to begin grabbing up plates.

“The dishwasher works.” Dalton stood and started scraping the grill.

“Cool. I’ll load ’er up and be back in a jiff.” He liked to help.

“Thanks, man.”

God, this easy acceptance, the way Dalton stood with him felt like heaven on earth. They moved around each other like a couple who’d been together way longer, and Tank hoped the honeymoon never wore off.

He heard a splash as he put the plates in the washer, and he looked out the kitchen window, watching Dalton move through the water like a fish.

God, that man could do things with that lean body to make his mouth dry. That ass was made for a saddle, and watching him rope was magic, but swimming…. Mmm. Wet and nearly naked. Tank stared, happy as a bug in a rug. Then he shook his head and loaded the dishes so he could get back out there.

He wanted to feel the water too, let it surround him, share that with Dalton.

Tank grinned, trotting outside once he’d done justice to their few dishes. The night air was still warm compared to Colorado, but it was just right to be in the pool. He didn’t cannonball… exactly.

Dalton was laughing at him when he bobbed to the surface, and a wave of water caught him in the shoulder.

“Now, don’t start a war, baby. I’m like a big old destroyer.”

“I don’t know, I might surprise you.” Dalton launched himself over, tackling him.

Tank went under, the sudden shock making him laugh. He sucked in some water, his splutters loud when he popped to the surface.

“I got you. I got you.” Dalton held him up, the whipcord-lean arms surprising him with their strength.

“Thanks.” Tank shook water off his head. “Damn.”

“Sorry. I never asked if you could swim.”

“I can, I swear. I got to laughing.” Tank let Dalton help him float, still coughing a bit.

“Easy. Easy. I won’t let you sink. You’re all muscle.”

Right. Pot meet kettle.

He was more… dense than Dalton, he reckoned. He laughed again before wrapping his arms around his lover and taking a kiss.

Dalton took it, rubbing them together playfully before taking off like a shot.

Tank followed, determined to prove he could swim like a barracuda. He almost caught up, but Dalton was too fast. He started thinking like a bullfighter, though, and hazed his lover down toward the deep end.

He would corner Dalton. Then he would pounce.

Dalton was a safety man, though, and smart as a whip, leading him on a merry chase. He was as quick in the pool as he was on a horse. Good thing Tank was dogged.

Dogged, determined, and needing a little redemption.

He swerved when Dalton tried to slip past him, caught the waistband of those trunks.

“Oh, nice one!” Dalton’s laughter filled the air.

“I got you now.” Though it was like trying to hold an otter.