Rhythm of the Road (Lost Kings MC 16)

I rest my hand over my stomach, willing the butterflies to settle. Waiting through Thundersmoke’s set and most of Dawson’s is torture. Usually by now, I’m in my jammy pants, winding down in my hotel room or on the road to the next destination.

And tonight I’ve got one hot hunk of man I desperately need some alone time with before we have to say goodbye.

“Shit, I forgot to give you this earlier,” Rooster says.

“Give me what?” I turn and he’s pulling a small white paper bag from the inner pocket of his cut.

He shrugs. “I hope she didn’t feed me a line of bullshit,” he mutters, shaking a small white box into his palm.

“What is it?”

“Open it.”

I slip the top of the box off and stare at the clear quartz stone suspended on a fine purple silk cord. “Logan,” I breathe out, “It’s so pretty.”

“The woman told me it was supposed to absorb negativity and bring peace of mind.” His brows draw down, suggesting he thinks it’s all hogwash. “Thought it would help you tonight and then I forgot to give it to you before your show.”

Aware that he thinks esoteric, spiritual stuff is silly, I’m touched he even considered buying a crystal, let alone talked to anyone about its healing properties. When did he even have the time? I thought he went off with his brothers for dinner but he found me a present instead?

“Thank you,” I whisper. I hold the box up. “Will you put it on for me?”

“Sure.” He carefully lifts the necklace out, works the small clasp loose and drapes it over my head.

The cool weight of the crystal settles against my skin and I glance down. “Thank you,” I whisper. Why am I getting so choked up over a gift?

I turn to show him.

“You like it?” he asks. “Is that what it’s supposed to do, or did I get taken?”

I chuckle at the note of uncertainty coloring his question. “Yes, clear quartz is supposed to remove negativity and promote harmony. Thank you.”

We don’t have much longer. One of Dawson’s roadies grabs my attention. I steal a last kiss from Rooster.

Clutching my microphone, I follow the roadie down the long metal walkway leading to the platform under the stage. I slip in my earpiece in and wiggle my jaw, humming a few notes to calm my nerves.

“Ready?” one of the techs shouts.

I flash a thumbs-up.

Dawson’s booming voice is slightly muffled, but it sounds like he’s announcing my appearance.

The platform shakes before rising into the air. Mist dances around my feet as the contraption lurches to a stop. Stage lights blind me, then disappear. Fake-smoke smell tickles my nose. Please don’t let me sneeze.

“Miss Shelby Morgan!”

Blinking, I raise my hands over my head and smile wide.

Nerves have no place here. I’m Shelby fucking Morgan, and I’ve got this.

Slowly, so I don’t bust my ass, I sway down the metal staircase.

“Ain’t she pretty?” Dawson piles on the good ol’ southern charm. “Y’all enjoy her show earlier?”

The crowd responds with a thunderous ‘yes.’ I’m sure it has more to do with pleasing their country music idol than admiring my talent, but I smile and gush an extra twangy, “Thank y’all so much!”

Dawson leaps up the last few steps and offers me his hand.

“Such a gentleman,” I coo into the microphone, batting my fake lashes.

“Anything for a pretty lady, darlin’.”

Oh, he’s really ramping up the cheese factor tonight.

He stares at a spot above my head, but I’m sure that to the audience it looks like he’s staring deep into my eyes. Slowly, he croons the first line of the song into his microphone.

My heart thumps with nerves, listening carefully for my cue. I’m determined to nail every word this time.

Tonight, Dawson wants to play it up for the crowd more. He holds onto my hand longer than seems necessary while singing all the sweet words to convince me to stay wrapped up in his arms all night long. I get into the role, making cow eyes at him and belting out every note of the excuses for I have to leave perfectly. Every time Dawson swaggers closer, I sashay away—a perfectly choreographed game of cat and mouse.

Before I know it, the song’s over. The stage goes dark, then the lights blink on. “Shelby Morgan, everyone!”

Sweat rolls down my forehead and into my hair and I’m still panting from bopping around the stage but I smile bright and wave big to the crowd.

Dawson kisses my cheek. “Thanks, darlin’. You were fantastic,” he whispers in my ear before sending me on my way.

“All right, Shelby!” Rooster picks me up as soon as I clear the stage. “You nailed it.”

“Yeah?” My laughter rings out as he gives me a quick spin.

“Yeah. You were incredible.”

I glance down, and there’s nothing but pride shining in his eyes. No jealousy. He understands that was all for show.