Page 5 of Roping My Rival

Dane’s jaw clamps shut so hard I worry for his teeth. “I don’t need to owe anyone anything again.”

Our breaths sound harsh in the still night air, and my hand remains against his chest. I let it drop and take a step back from him.

After a pause, he opens the door to his truck and pulls out a hose. “If you can pull in front of or next to me, this should reach.” The silence hangs between us as my mind races with a dozen different thoughts. “Please,” he adds, the word sounding like he just swallowed shards of glass.

With a nod, I walk to my truck and climb in. The highway is deserted this late, and what we’re doing carries some risk if a speeding vehicle decides it’s not paying attention and slams into the back of my horse trailer. Dane has pulled off onto the shoulder fairly far, though, and I’m going to hope my good deed doesn’t go punished with an accident.

I’ve barely stopped alongside his truck, and he’s throwing the hose over to me across the back of my truck bed.

“Slide that down into your tank and just hold it so it doesn’t come out.”

After removing the gas cap and inserting the tube, I call back to him. “It’s in.”

I’m oddly fascinated, and I know how a siphon works, but this is a pretty long hose and no slope to help the liquid flow. The breathy gasps of Dane’s inhales sound over the quiet of the night and the odd huff of our horses. Then he coughs, and the splatter of liquid hits the ground before it’s cut off.

Gas fumes hit my nose, and beneath my hand, the tube vibrates as gas funnels out.

“How fast does it funnel out? You’re not gonna suck me dry, are you?”

“In your dreams, Burke.”

Dane’s sexy rumbling laugh shouldn’t make my dick perk up, but it does. “Fuck off, Walker. You know what I meant.”

“Kink the hose and take it out while holding it up. This should be enough.”

I do as he asks, and while I raise the hose above my head, I step over the hitch and watch as Dane expertly times the withdrawal to not waste a drop of fuel. He closes the gas cap and snatches the hose from my hand.

“Have you done this before?”

Dane coils the hose and tosses it into the back of the truck bed.

“Does it matter?” He nods at my truck. “Turn it on and tell me how much less you have now.”

“Answer my question.”

I pull up my shoulders to stand straight and maybe command an ounce of respect from the guy since I just saved his ass. His blue eyes seem to spark with a fire in the darkness.

“A few times. Happy?”

“No.” I spin and return to my truck. After starting it, I give it a few seconds for everything to settle and return to Dane. “That’s just shy of half my tank. So about 50 litres, give or take.”

Dane nods and walks to his driver’s side door. “Get going, Burke. I’m sure your daddy is wondering where you are.”

“Would it kill you to say thank you?” I shout into the darkness, and he pauses at his door.

“It might.” He gets into his truck without another word.

“Unbelievable,” I mutter to myself as I slide back behind the wheel. After checking for traffic, I signal and pull away.

It’s the last time I see Dane Walker for five years.

Present Day

“Does the bun make my ass look big?”

“No, your ass makes your ass look big.”

Why my dad is even wearing a hot dog costume is not a topic I want to discuss right now. Maybe Pops told him it was a costume party?