He spent a lot time thinking about it, about their first Valentine's day together.
Coke wasn't really all that into flowers and shit, and really, Dillon'd just bitch about getting fat if he handed over chocolate and who needed that?
No. No, that wasn't his style.
Coke walked around the Harley, checking it out. Brand new, shiny, painted the color of Dillon's eyes. He liked it. He fantasized a lot about those muscled thighs spread over a leather seat, leaned forward a little over the handlebars.
Back up the truck, jack. This wasn't home.
Coke looked at the dude with the leathers and the long beard. "Okay, man. Let's talk money, and don't bullshit me, because I ain't into that. Just tell me what you can do and I'll tell you whether I want to do it."
He had a Valentine's present to deliver.
Maybe he'd put a card in the saddlebags.
Much love, y'all.