Cut and Run 6 - Stars and Stripes

Ty, willing his partner to decline the invitation with something creative and convincing.
    “Can I wear my hat?” Ty asked.
    Zane rolled his eyes, smiling despite the wave of irritation. “Yeah, you can wear your damn hat.”

    Zane looked a lot more relaxed now that they’d escaped the big house and his mother’s cutting commentary, but he still shot Ty an annoyed glance as he drove.
    “You couldn’t have just said you wanted to be dragged back to the house and fucked, huh?”
    “I didn’t know that was an option!”
    Zane laughed and returned his attention to driving.
    They idled as Mark got out and opened up the impressive gate, but they didn’t wait once they hit the main road. The truck following them stopped, and either Cody or Joe got out to close the gate before continuing on. They cruised with the windows down, the night air still warm and smelling of dirt and grass. It was a peaceful drive until Zane steered the truck into a gravel lot packed with vehicles.
    Before them stood a large, two-story clapboard building lit with neon beer signs in every window. Strings of red chili pepper lights lined a porch crowded with tables and patrons. In the back lot, half visible from their parking spot, sat a handful of battered, vintage Airstream trailers of various sizes that gave the whole thing a very North Texas, you’re-about-to-be-abducted-by-aliens vibe. A banner hanging on the front of the building proclaimed half-price drinks for members of the armed services. A vintage porcelain sign near the road advertised cold beer and air conditioning.
    Ty could see how that would be a commodity in Texas in the summer.
    Zane found a parking spot, and when he turned off the engine, they could hear the music blaring out of the honky-tonk. Zane grinned. “This is more my speed.”
    Ty looked out the window at the garish décor. “You and me both, darlin’.”
    The flickering and flashing lights reflected in the mirrors and windows, splashing shards of color across Zane’s face. He pulled the keys out of the ignition, pocketing them before turning to dig behind the bench seat of the pickup. He leaned back with a sharp-looking black Stetson that he settled on his head.
    Ty burst out laughing, clapped a hand over his mouth, and snorted loudly as he tried to stop himself. Zane just grinned and winked, obviously not surprised by Ty’s reaction.
    “Oh, Jesus,” Ty mumbled behind his fingers. “I’m sorry, I still can’t get used to it.”
    “It goes with the boots.”
    Ty shook his head, hand still over his mouth. Zane glared at him. The hat settled well on his head and shaded his eyes from the light. “Watch it, Grady.”
    “Or what, Sheriff? Showdown at high noon?” He lost his hold on his composure and laughed harder.
    Zane grinned, lowering his head until the hat shaded his eyes. Ty had to admit, the man could pull off a cowboy hat. He chuckled and shook his head, reaching out to cock the hat and give Zane a more rakish air.
    “Where’s yours?” Zane asked, still smiling from under the brim of the hat.
    “I left it at the house.”
    “You were so determined to wear it, and you left it behind?”
    “I’m not Yosemite Sam; I’m not used to grabbing my hat every time I go out the door!”
    Zane rolled his eyes, then held up his index finger in a “wait” sign and turned to reach behind the seat again. He pulled out a straw bullrider hat and offered it to Ty.
    Ty laughed and took the hat, turning it over to inspect it.
    “No, wait. That’s just like yours at home. Here,” Zane said, and then he pulled the Stetson off his own head and set it on Ty’s with a flourish.
    Ty went cross-eyed as he looked up at the brim of the hat. Zane was staring at him, teeth worrying his lower lip, eyes dark and liquid.
    “I think the black suits you more than the brown did.”
    “Oh yeah?”
    “Brings out your eyes.”
    “Is that what you look for in cowboy hats?”
    “Maybe. You know, in high school, if a girl got a guy to give her his Stetson, it was a sure thing they were going steady,” Zane said, his voice heated and smug.
    Zane’s attempts at flirting were a never-ending source of amusement. And damn him, they were starting to work. “You saying I’d make a great Texan girl?”
    “I’m saying you look damn good in my hat,” Zane growled. He cupped Ty’s chin with one hand and leaned over in the shadowed truck cab to kiss him.
    Ty had to give him points for effortlessly ducking under the brim.