George's Turn [Brac Pack 8] by Lynn Hagen

Great, it probably was.
    “Okay, open them.” Tank stood back, admiring his work.
    George looked down but really couldn’t see what it was. He walked over to the chrome doors, staring at his reflection. “How does it work?”
    Tank adjusted the leather straps. The contraption reminded George of a gun holster, but instead of a gun in the sheath, it was a water bottle. Thank god it wasn’t a bra, or he would have had to have a showdown with Tank instead. “I rigged it so all you have to do is pull the hard plastic straw up, lean your head down a little and voilà, your thirst is quenched. Your hands are free now, no more carrying your bottle around.”
    George threw his arms around Tank, wiping his eyes into his mate’s shirt to hide the tears. He wasn’t no dang girl after all, and he wasn’t going to be caught crying like one. “Thank you,” he mumbled into Tank’s chest.
    Tank walked backwards until they were through the kitchen doors. “You’re welcome. Now stop hiding those tears. Nobody in here but us.”
    “What tears?” George wiped at his eyes.
    “You must be drinking too much water because it’s starting to leak out from your eyes,” Tank teased him.
    “You’re seeing things.” George swatted a hand at him.
    “I want to show you something after your showdown with Cecil.” Tank pulled George into his arms.
    “You showed me. I like it.” George smiled into his chest. “No need convincing me.”

    George’s Turn
    85
    “Perv, that’s not what I was talking about.” Tank smiled as he tucked his knuckle under George’s chin, lifting his head for a kiss.
    “Fine. Since you’re not showing me your side of beef, what is it?”
    “You wish. Just be ready.” Tank swatted his ass before leaving his mate to work.
    “Tease,” George shouted from the kitchen.
    Cody chuckled. “Harassing my employees?”
    “Nope. That’s why he’s complaining.” Tank grinned as he pushed the door open and left the diner. George stood in the doorway and grinned, watching his big bear walk out.

    * * * *
    “Ten paces then turn and shoot.” George narrowed his eyes at Cecil.
    “Make peace with Tank. You’re going down,” Cecil challenged.
    “Backs to each other,” Blair instructed in his sheriff’s uniform.
    “No cheating.”
    “Damn, sunshine, you’ll have to wear that to bed tonight.” Kota growled.
    Blair put his index finger to his lips. “Shush, I was planning on it.” He winked at his mate before clearing his throat and turning to the dueling pair.
    Oliver stood off to the side wearing scrubs and a medic coat, a black bag clutched to his chest.
    “I think I’m having a heart attack. Check my cock,” Micah teased Oliver. His mate rolled his eyes but blushed.
    “Ready?” Blair shouted. The warriors were all standing by, the mates huddled around. Johnny bit his nails, jumping from foot to foot.
    “Kick butt,” Keata cheered.
    “Just get on with it,” George complained.
    “Fine…now!” Blair called out, stepping back and out of the way as the two counted their ten paces. George’s legs were longer, taking 86
    Lynn Hagen
    him further away.
    They spun, and Cecil’s chest exploded with colored lights. He dropped to the ground, his eyes closed as he lay there.
    Oliver ran over and hit the button to stop the lights from flashing on the downed man’s chest. He reached into his black bag and pulled out a sticker, slapping it on Cecil’s head.
    “Hey, what’s that?” Cecil asked as he pulled the sticky paper from his forehead and looked at it. “Loser?” Cecil crumpled the sticker up, tossing it aside.
    “I’m the winner.” George jumped around doing a happy dance.
    He stilled when Tank came forward, pulling his laser tag vest from his chest. “I get to listen to my country music. I get to listen to my country music.” George sang out his taunt.
    “I want a rematch.” Cecil pouted, mad because he lost.
    “Baby loser,” Micah shouted.
    “Okay, enough teasing my mate.”