Rhythm of the Road (Lost Kings MC 16)

“Eww, don’t be gross.” I snatch it back.

He pushes the door to the green room open. Greg found a jet engine of an industrial fan that’s louder than it is cooling. All it’s doing is blowing dust around the room. I reach up and flick it off.

My body shakes with a violent sneeze.

“You all right?” Trent asks, resting a hand on my back. “You’re not gettin’ sick are you?”

“Hush your mouth,” I scold. That’s my worst damn nightmare. No time for colds on this tour. “It’s the fan. You know I’m allergic to dust and a million other things.” I twirl my finger in the air. “The fan stirred up a lot of crap.”

“Shit. Sorry.” He steers me toward the makeup chair. “Go sit. I’ll look for some tissues. Cindy should be here soon.”

“Thanks.” I reach out and grab his hand. “I mean it. Thanks for coming to look for me too.”

“You’re the star.”

It sounds hollow. Or maybe I’m feelin’ guilty. I stare at the closed door for a few seconds after Trent leaves.

My phone buzzes and my heart gallops off to the races.

Rooster.

“Hey,” I answer.

“How’s it going?”

“All right.”

“What’s wrong? You sound sad.”

The immediate concern in his voice melts me. “It’s hot as blazes here.”

“What happened to the sassy Texan girl who said us Northerners didn’t know the meaning of hot?” he teases.

I groan-laugh into the phone. “I stand corrected.”

“What else is going on?”

I don’t want to tell him I went off by myself and encountered an oddball fan, or that Trent found and scolded me. Nope. Because from the second I heard Logan’s smooth voice, only one thing has been on my mind. “Just missing you.”

“Yeah? Been thinking about you all day, chickadee.”

“You were?”

“Yup. Not sure how I missed it before, but I saw you have a show in Baltimore. I’m only four hours from there.”

My heart stutters. Baltimore’s three days away. Not the ten I thought I’d have to wait to see him again.

“Shelby? You still there?”

“I’m here.”

“You all right with me coming to see you sooner than we said?” A bit of worry creeps into his tone.

Pull it together and let him know how much you want to see him. “Yes,” I yelp.

His warm, rich laughter floats through the phone and wraps tight around my heart. “Good.”

Be brave. “I miss you.”

“Miss you too.”

“I mean it.” Say it. Stop being so damn scared of gettin’ hurt. “The only thing that stopped me from bawling my eyes out when I left you in New York was knowing I’d see you in Virginia. So if I can see you even sooner . . .”

“Shelby,” he breathes out.

“Is that okay?”

“That’s more than okay.”

“Good.” I move away from the makeup chair and plop down on the couch, tucking my feet under me. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Helping the president get a project off the ground.”

“Anything exciting?”

Silence. I pull the phone away from my ear to check if I lost the call. “Rooster?”

“Nothing exciting to me.”

What’s that mean? Maybe club stuff I’m not supposed to ask about? “How’s Jigsaw? He rode down with you, right?”

“More helpful than I expected.” He chuckles. “I’ll let him know you asked.”

“Sounds like you’re busy. Sure you can come up to Baltimore?”

“To see my girl? Fuck yeah, I can.”

“I can’t wait.” My breath hitches and another violent sneeze shakes me out of my seat. “Dammit.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s dusty, and it stirred up my allergies.”

“You gonna be all right to sing?”

“I think so.” Someone knocks and the door swings open. Cindy waves and rolls her case inside. “Cindy’s here.”

“Send me a picture later.”

“I will.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Talk to you soon.”

I open my mouth. An I love you almost rolls off my tongue.

Lucky for me, the call already ended.Chapter Thirty-EightRooster

One little sneeze and I’m ready to dump everything and ride to Michigan to see my girl.

Shelby’s been on tour for months. She’s more than capable of taking care of herself. But I can’t help the instinct. Really glad she sounded excited about me coming to visit in a couple days.

My phone pings. Expecting a picture from Shelby, I flick the screen on.

Z: How’s it going?

Me: Good. Few things we should discuss.

Z: ???

Me: Not sure yet.

Z: Keep me updated.

I send him a thumbs-up emoji and flick my screen off.

It’s time to kick back and hang out with brothers I haven’t seen since our national conference. See who’s feeling chatty once half the club’s drunk and scattered around away from the watchful eye of their president.

I pound downstairs, passing club girls and brothers in the narrow hallway. Give out a few nods hello and quick handshakes. Living room’s full but I find a free spot and tuck myself into a corner of one of the couches where I have a decent view of most of the room.

One of the girls hurries over and drops a bottle of beer on the table in front of me without asking or offering anything else. Doesn’t really matter. I’m not feeling picky tonight. “Thanks, hon.”