Rhythm of the Road (Lost Kings MC 16)

So, my mama has a point. It’s a terrible time to pine for a man.

But Rooster’s not any man. Right now, with his tongue stroking mine and heat searing my skin, it seems like the perfect time to be caught up with this man. Which is why the second he pulled over, I raced over like a lunatic hell-bent on monkey-climbing his hard body as if it was my favorite banana tree.

We part for a second and I blink up at him. “What are you doing here?”

Ignoring my breathless question, he wraps his big arms around me even tighter, anchoring my body to his, and silences me with another sizzling kiss.

The familiar tickle of his beard only makes me lean in closer. I can’t get enough. I’ve missed him so much. Threading one hand in my hair, he slides the other one over my ass, his fingers firmly and possessively digging in, claiming me in front of everyone.

The long, loud honk of a tractor trailer horn tears us apart.

“I’m so happy to see you,” I whisper, daring to peek up into his dark eyes.

Applause erupts around us. Heat crawls over my cheeks. How’d I forget we’re surrounded by a bunch of his club brothers as well as my band?

“Nine-point-five, brother. Shoulda used more tongue.” Jigsaw claps loudly, ramping up the embarrassment factor.

Without shifting his gaze, Rooster answers with his middle finger.

“Why are you out here on the side of the road?” He sets me down gently, still ignoring everyone else. “What happened?”

I take a second to stare at him, running my gaze over all the familiar details. Neatly trimmed beard. Navy blue T-shirt, sleeves stretched over his rolling terrain of tattooed, muscled arms. Ink peeking from the neck of his shirt. His easy, casual stance and manner exudes masculine energy, reminding me the only attention my girly bits have had lately is of the battery-operated-boyfriend variety.

“The stupid van broke down.” I finally stick my tongue back in my mouth and find some words. “I’m going to miss soundcheck if I don’t get to the venue soon.” Being late won’t exactly endear me to the biggest country singer on the planet. Dawson Roads was kind enough to take me out on tour this summer; I don’t want to disappoint him.

“Hey, Shelby.” Heidi rushes over and envelopes me in a hug. “How’ve you been?”

Warmth seeps into my chest as she squeezes me tight. I don’t have many girlfriends. Heidi and I had gotten along well when we met in Texas. I haven’t kept in touch with her as much as I’ve been in touch with Rooster, but I’ve been looking forward to seeing her.

“Been better.” I flip my hand toward the van. “Overall, I can’t complain. Thanks for coming.”

“I wouldn’t miss it. Trinity and Charlotte will be up later too.”

I bite my lip, feeling shitty about my lack of perks as the opening act. I’d managed to wrangle exactly two tickets and two backstage passes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get more tickets—”

Heidi waves off my apology. “Hope’s bought me tickets to Country Fest for Christmas for the last couple years. The other guys have lawn seats. They wouldn’t want to be caged in anyway. It’s all good.”

My gaze skips to Rooster’s brothers. A solid, protective wall of hard-faced men. I recognize most of them but can’t remember everyone’s name. I can’t believe they all came with Rooster. To see me or to support him?

Or just to have a good time. Not everything’s about you, Shelby.

“Hey, Shelby,” Jigsaw says, sliding up to Rooster’s side. “You’re looking as fine as ever.” With a playful smirk stretched across his lips, he opens his arms wide and takes a step closer.

Rooster stops him with an arm across his chest. “Don’t,” he warns in a low tone.

My heart does another little annoying two-step at Rooster’s possessive display.

Jigsaw’s as mischievous as I remember and not offended in the least by Rooster’s implied threat. Hug thwarted, he grins and winks at me instead.

Rooster slings his arm around my shoulders and steers me toward the van. “What’s going on here?”

“Back tire blew.”

He slowly turns to me with a raised eyebrow. “And?”

My cheeks flame hot again, and I give him a sheepish shrug. “None of us know how to change a tire.”

He chuckles then tips his head toward his brothers. One of them yells, “On it.”

“You don’t have to,” I protest. “Triple A is on the way…” Who am I kidding? Rescuing me is Rooster’s thing. It’s how our relationship started. Reuniting this way almost feels like destiny.

Besides, I need to move my ass.

“You could be here all afternoon, waitin’ on them,” he points out.

“I do have to get to soundcheck.”

“Let’s go.” He gestures toward his bike and my feet automatically move in that direction.

“Wait, Shelby, what are you doing?” Trent calls out. “You can’t leave.”