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“Yeah,” he grumbled. “Coffee?”
Sel nodded to the table. “Everything is set here, darling.”
“Don’t call me that,” Indio grunted, sitting at the table. “Fuckin’ darling. Who calls a guy that?”
“You didn’t mind it while you were fucking me last night.”
“That’s different. You say all kinds of weird shit while I’m fucking you!”
Indio was a nervous wreck. The clubhouse was ready, and he’d officially hold his first meeting that night. He’d be gone all day which would be a relief. He’d been a huge pain in the ass the last few weeks.
They brought up four men from New Mexico, two from Denver and recruited three from Montana. It wasn’t a lot, but enough for a chapter at long last.
The meeting would be to elect or select the members for certain positions and would likely go on half the night.
Sel could have gone, but with the opening of the resort so close, he had to beg off, as he’d be with Roland and Binx the rest of the day, checking on the final touches.
“Indio, settle down before you take off on the bike. I don’t want you distracted when you’re riding.”
“Babe, you know it chills me out when I’m on the bike. I’ll be fine.”
Sel still worried, especially since he’d been on his bike every day it didn’t snow in the previous couple months. “Okay, but be careful anyway.”
“Bossy bottom.”
Sel didn’t love his new nickname, but he supposed it was just. Since taking over the majority of the resort business, he’d been bossy as hell to Indio. That was only because he didn’t feel confident enough to boss anyone else around.
“When are you heading out?” Indio asked between bites. “This is great, by the way.”
“Thank Binxie for that. He’s giving me some great recipes. Um, I need to stop by my uncle’s house. They spoke to their surrogate yesterday. Three more months and they’ll be papas.”
“That’s so cool. They’re going to be great dads.”
It hadn’t been easy for them, but Dante had done it, found a beautiful surrogate for the babies and each had one that was fathered by him on the way. Two little babies growing inside her.
For the surrogate, they hadn’t had to look far. Bonita Salazar had offered, once she learned of their search. She wasn’t doing it just out of the goodness of her heart. She insisted they cool off the mafia shit and that they pay her with her own little home, but since she was ready to move in with Barry, she chose the monetary equivalent.
They were happy to accommodate.
Indio left an hour later, and he languished in kissing Sel goodbye. “Be good today and I’ll tie you to the upstairs railing again.”
“I’m always good,” he argued.
“Yes or no.”
Sel hated it. He still found it terribly hard to obey. “Fine, I’ll be so good, you’ll have to fuck me over and over.”
“Like I’d mind that.”
Watching him leave, Sel got the shivers. One thing Indio would never be accused of was a lack of libido. The man could fuck for hours, rest and go again. Sel never thought he’d be the one crying for a break.
He dressed in a light silk and linen outfit, loose beige suit coat over a gorgeous silk red tank. The pants, however, were jeans, as he found they took a beating from the ranch better than anything else. Go figure that the cowboys had known that for a hundred years.
Once he drove over their little bridge, he headed to Dante’s first, parking next to Blaine’s Outback. Blaine was outside with the dogs in the yard, which already had lilacs blooming and tulips in a colorful line in front of the hedges. “Hey, Uncle Blaine!”
“Hey,” he said, jogging over to kiss Sel’s cheek. “How are you?”
“Nervous, stressed and I’ve never felt better in my life.”
