Rhythm of the Road (Lost Kings MC 16)

It seems so unfair to ask when he’ll visit. I don’t want to go months without seeing him again. I’d ask him to follow us onto the highway right now, today, and for the rest of the tour if I could.

He traces his finger over the curve of my cheek. “When can I see you again?”

His question unravels the tightly knotted ball of sorrow in my heart. “I don’t know.”

“You got your tour schedule?”

I release him and pull my phone out, searching for the document with all the dates listed.

“I have a copy I printed out at home somewhere,” Rooster mutters. “You’re headed to Virginia at some point, right?”

Thrilled he remembered, I scan the dates as soon as the document pops up on my screen. “Yup. End of next week.”

“Can you forward that to me?” He nods at my phone.

I send it and his phone pings a few seconds later. “Done.”

He brushes my hair off my cheek and leans down to capture my attention. “I have some business down in Virginia. Why don’t we meet up there?” He glances over at our van. “When you’re moving from show to show, you don’t have to ride in the van, right? I mean, are you doing special musical bonding stuff with the band?”

Sweet relief that we have a plan to see each other frees my spirit with laughter. “Not really. Sometimes we work on a song. Mostly everyone stares at their phones or sleeps.”

“So, maybe you ride with me for a bit.” He runs his hands through his hair. “I’m really not trying to fuck things up for you or invite myself along, but—”

“No. I’d like that, Rooster.” I try to control the excitement in my voice. “But I can’t ask you to drop everything. It’s not fair.”

The corner of his mouth curls up. “It sounds to me like we both want the same thing.”

“Is that awful of me?”

He leans down and brushes his lips over mine. “No.”

“What business are you up to in Virginia?” I ask.

“We have a charter there. Z wants me to help them with a few things.”

“Anything fun?” I still don’t know what he actually does for the club.

His face slides into that expressionless mask I noticed last night when Chaser probed about the club. “Never mind,” I say quickly. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s nothing major,” he says without elaborating.

A sharp whistle splits the air. The chug-roar of the van rumbles to life.

“Shelby! Let’s go!” Greg shouts.

“Dammit.” Tears prick my eyes. I’m not ready to say goodbye.

“Come on. I’ll walk over with you.”

“No. Don’t.” My protest is a blunt hammer, stopping him in his tracks. “I want to remember you like this. Next to the truck we spent the weekend in. Together.” I sniff. “If you come over there, I might drag you onto the van with me.”

His firm hands grip my waist, yanking me closer. Without a word, he leans down and presses his mouth to mine. Hard.

It’s not a sweet kiss. It’s one of need and desperation, longing and goodbye. He groans and lifts me, pushing me against truck, and deepens our kiss. My legs wrap around him, squeezing his hips. I loop my arms around his neck, hanging on tight. His beard tickles and scratches my chin and above my lip.

Another piercing whistle pulls us apart.

Rooster growls and shifts his focus toward the van.

“I’m sorry. I have to go.”

His expression softens as he faces me. “Be awesome tonight.” A smile teases the corners of his mouth. “I hate that I’m missing your show.”

My heart flips at the sincerity in his voice. No one in my life besides my mother has ever taken my music so seriously. “I’ll miss you being there.”

He sets me down gently.

We step around the side of the truck where Jiggy and Dex are still waiting at their bikes. How much did they overhear? Will Jiggy razz Rooster terribly?

Dex notices us first and flashes a friendly smile. “Bye, Shelby. Good luck.” He holds out his fist to me and I tap his knuckles with my own.

“Thank you for coming out all this way with Rooster.”

“Not a problem.” He lifts his chin. “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

Jigsaw’s more subdued than I expected. He also holds out his fist for a bump. “Be safe, Shelby.”

“I’ll try.”

He flicks his gaze toward Greg, who’s on the verge of having an apoplectic fit, and curls his lip in a snarl. “He better do his job and look out for you.”

“I’ll be okay,” I promise. “Thank you.”

I jump up and hug Rooster one last time, kiss his bristly cheek, and dart away. Good thing the parking lot isn’t busy at this hour. I don’t bother looking for cars as I sprint to the van.

“Let’s roll.” I stop in front of Greg.

We’re not close enough for him to ask many questions. “Cincinnati, here we come!” he says in a cheerful voice.