When the song finally, mercifully ends, I take a breath.
“Shelby Morgan, everyone!” Dawson yanks her close and kisses her cheek. “Thank you, darlin’.”
I press stop on the recording.
Jigsaw slaps my shoulder. “Good luck with that, brother.”
“Fuck off. It’s for the show.”
His mouth twists into a devilish smile. I brace myself for whatever’s about to come out of his foolish mouth. “Well, look at it this way. She can’t ever give you shit for working with Stella’s company.”
Fuck, I hadn’t given the club’s budding porn empire a lot of thought lately. Since marrying Lilly, Z’s shifted most of the responsibility for running it to me. Which is fine. I don’t have the same history with Stella he has, and I certainly have no interest in developing one.
“I’m not worried about it.”
He searches the stage again. “This whole tour’s one big ol’ sausage fest. Shelby’s the only chick?”
I nod toward Dawson, who’s moved onto a song about bonfires, boots, and big trucks. “He’s got backup singers.” I tug on Jigsaw’s pass. “Maybe this should’ve gone to Heidi.”
“Nah., I got your back.”
I snort at that. “You obviously haven’t seen Heidi swinging her hammer.” I wave at him over my shoulder. “Come on.”
The security guard recognizes me from earlier but gives Jigsaw a longer inspection than required. Guy must not enjoy his good health.
Shelby’s signing things for a group of fans. Half of them are men with worshipful expressions on their faces. I swear to God, one of them is a grown-ass man with a plushy-looking brown bunny backpack slung over his shoulder. Now I’ve seen everything.
I place my hand on Jiggy’s arm, stopping him.
“Behave,” I warn.
We park our asses against the wall across from Shelby. She glances up and smiles at us.
“Shit, she’s cute.” Jigsaw rubs his hand over his chin while giving my girl a long, slow eye fondle. “I get why you’re so—”
“Don’t,” I warn.
When she finishes with the fans, she bounces over to us, a happy smile lighting up her face. “What’d you think?”
“You were the best part of Dawson’s whole show,” Jigsaw answers with his hand in the air like he’s swearing an oath.
I flash my phone at her. “Sent the video to your mom. Waiting for Heidi to send me hers and I’ll forward it too.”
“Oh my gosh!” She jumps up, looping her arms around my neck. “Thank you! I was so nervous, I forgot.”
“No problem.” I lean down and wrap my myself around her, tucking my fingers into the back pockets of her jeans. “Jiggy’s right. You were the best part of the show,” I add in a lower voice.
“Stop.” She ducks her head. “I was so shaking so bad, I flubbed a couple lines.”
“Couldn’t tell.”
She tips her head back and yawns, covering her mouth at the last minute. “Sorry.”
“You must be exhausted. Ready to leave?” I’m not sure if she’s supposed to stick around but I’m dying to be alone with her.
“Yes.” She unwraps herself from me and steps back. “Let me check with Greg. You guys can hang out in the hospitality room if you want.”
We follow her down the hall. Her dressing room’s been cleared out. Looks like most of her band’s gear is gone as well. “They pack up already?”
“Yup. We always do as soon as we’re finished.” She flashes me a quick smile. “No time to waste. The rhythm of the road keeps on rolling.”Chapter TwelveShelby
Heart still racing from the unexpected extra performance, I follow Rooster to his bike. He hands me my helmet but before I strap it on, I reach up and touch his cheek. “Thank you so much for everything tonight.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Sure you did. It was real nice having you here.”
He slides hands around my waist, dipping down to gently knead my butt. “Looking forward to spending time with you.”
“I’m sorry I scheduled that thing—”
He stops me with a finger against my lips. “It’s not a problem.” His gaze darts to the side and he opens his mouth as if he has more to add but then shakes his head. “Let’s go.”
I tighten the helmet on my own, but he checks to make sure it’s secure before throwing his leg over the bike in one fluid movement.
“Come on,” he urges.
I rest my palm on his shoulder and slide into place behind him.
Loud, rumbling pipes shake the ground around us, vibrating against my legs and butt. He leans and lifts the kickstand, and my heart jumps. My arms tighten around his middle.
Hanging on tight, I press into his back as he steers us down the bumpy lane. Where the gravel meets the pavement, we run into Murphy. He and Rooster signal to each other before rolling onto the next road. The chaos gathering in my heart and mind settles. The usual fretting I indulge in after a show is forgotten. Rooster’s firm presence and expert way he handles the bike ratchets up my desire again.