Rhythm of the Road (Lost Kings MC 16)

“I’d never take your money, Shelby,” he answers in a low, serious tone that makes my belly quiver. He slides the zipper into place and after adjusting the girls in my long-line strapless bra, I turn to face him.

He runs his finger over the tops of my breasts, following the bodice of the dress. “This is pretty on you. Did your mom make it?”

I slide my hands over the smooth royal blue leather top and adjust the layers of teal, blue, purple, and green ruffles that end right above my knees. “Yes.” I kick out my feet in the electric teal boots Rooster bought me in San Antonio. “She made it to match these.”

A smile flickers over his mouth.

“Hey.” I reach up and grab a fistful of his T-shirt. “I didn’t thank you properly.”

He raises one eyebrow. “For?”

I tug him a little closer and whisper against his ear. “The earlier orgasm.”

We’re so close, his beard tickles my cheek when he smiles. “Pleasure was mine.”

“Well, I plan to repay the favor later.”

Heat races across my skin as his gaze roams over my bare shoulders. He reaches out and tucks a wild sprig of hair behind my ear. “Looking forward to it.”

I glance down. “And rescuing me. Again.” I tilt my head toward the hallway. “Thank you for reacting so quick.”

The line of his jaw tightens. “What would you have done if I wasn’t there?”

“Slapped him? Yelled for security?” I shrug and force a smile on my face. “I’m going to dedicate ‘White Knight’ to you tonight.” I tickle my fingers through his beard. “You won’t be embarrassed, will you?”

His serious expression doesn’t change. “Not at all.”

Someone knocks and before I answer, Greg pushes inside. “How’re you feeling, Shelby?”

I clutch my stomach, willing the flock of two-stepping butterflies to settle down. “About to puke.”

Sympathy shines in his eyes. “You’ve got this. I saw you put ‘Empty Room’ back on the set list?”

My shoulders jerk up. Greg knows the origin of “Empty Room.” I don’t understand why I’m so uncomfortable discussing the song in front of Rooster.

“You sure?” he asks.

“I think so.”

“Hey, Shelbs.” Trent pokes his head inside the room. “Let’s go knock ’em on their asses.” He lifts his chin at Rooster. “Thanks for having her back in the meet-n-greet.”

Guess word spread.

Greg turns his questioning gaze on Rooster. “What happened?”

“Some dude-bro thought he’d grab a handful of my ass,” I answer before Rooster has a chance.

“Fuck all.” Greg stabs his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, honey. I shouldn’t—” His gaze flicks to Rooster. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“Dawson spoke to you?” Greg asks me. “You know the lyrics?”

“Not now, Greg.” I flap my hands in the air. “Let me survive my own show, first.”

He chuckles and holds up his hands in surrender.

Before I know it, my band and our crew circle around me. Together, we walk down the long corridor to the entrance for the stage. Instinctively, I reach for Rooster’s hand and he squeezes me back. Having him as part of my posse tonight reassures me more than anything else.

Don’t get used to it.

Day after tomorrow, I’ll be on my own again.Chapter NineRooster

Even my cynical nature can’t ignore the current of excitement in the air as we walk Shelby to the stage.

It’s still daylight so the flashing lights don’t have the same effect they would have if it was dark out. But the announcer loudly welcoming Shelby to the stage can’t be ignored.

A much-needed breeze blows through the hallway, cooling the air.

Shelby huddles with her band and they share a few quick words, chant some upbeat lines, then pile their hands together, whooping as they break.

Two guys swarm around her. One hands her a microphone before rigging small wireless box to the belt of her dress. Someone else hands her a smaller piece for her ear.

The band swaggers out onto the stage first.

Shelby stands a few feet from the entrance, eyes closed, back against a stack of equipment. One hand’s in a white-knuckled death-grip around her mic and the other is balled into a fist at her side. I want to wish her luck, kiss her, or do something to encourage her but I don’t want to take her out of whatever headspace she’s trying to achieve.

Finally, she opens her eyes, staring straight at me. She takes a few steps closer, goes up on tiptoes, and plants a quick kiss on my cheek before darting away.

“Good evening, Wellspring, New York!” she shouts as she struts onto the stage, one hand in the air, waving to the audience. She’s completely confident—regal almost. No one would ever guess minutes ago she claimed to be jittery and ready to hurl.

“Y’all ready to have a good time?” she shouts.

The crowd’s reaction is weak at best. They’re still not quite paying attention. One excited voice and a shrill whistle stands out, though. I move closer, peering into the crowd, laughing when I see Heidi, arms up, hooting for Shelby. Right next to her, Murphy’s standing and whistling. Out on the lawn, the rest of the club makes even more noise. People waiting in line at the food stands turn and look. More people roam over the grass, slowly wandering closer, curiously staring at the stage.