Until Dawson swaggers out the door.
Cindy presses her hand to her chest. “Mother of sin, Shelby. Did he really just ask you to—”
“I think so.” My gaze lands on Rooster. “Did he say what I think he said?”
“Seems so,” he answers in a neutral tone. “First time he’s asked you to come onstage with him?”
“Yes.” I yank my cell phone out of my pocket. “I need to text my mama.”
“Go ahead, honey.” Cindy places a few small barrettes in my hair, pulling it off my face. “I’m almost done here. Then we’ll get to your lips.”
I tap out the quick text and receive an answer right away.
Please send video.
Chuckling, I turn to show Rooster her request.
“I’ll record it and send it to her,” he promises.
Not expecting that, I blink a few times before answering, “Thank you.”
I relay the message and her next text has me doubling over with laughter.
“What?” Rooster asks.
“Nothing.” I shake my head, too embarrassed to repeat her request.
“What?” He slips my phone out of my hand and chuckles when he scans the message.
Rooster’s there? Send me a picture of that fine-looking man, please.
“Oh, Lynn.” A smile flirts with the corners of his mouth and he shakes his head. He holds the phone out to Cindy. “Will you take a picture of us?”
“Sure.”
Rooster wraps his arms around me, and I angle my head back, to stare at him for a brief second before Cindy asks us to smile.
She hands the phone back to Rooster and finishes my makeup.
“What are you doing?” I mumble, barely moving my lips while Cindy outlines them.
“Sending her a picture,” Rooster answers.
In the mirror, I catch Cindy’s swoon. “Marry him,” she mouths to me.
I’d elbow her if I didn’t love her so much.
I’m sure marriage is the last thing on Rooster’s mind.
It’s definitely way, way down on my bucket list.
Or at least it always has been.Chapter SevenRooster
I’m trying hard to be the better man and not storm out of here to hunt down Dawson Roads. Shelby’s clearly enamored with the guy who just casually asked her to hop onstage and sing what I assume is some ‘let’s fuck’ ballad with him tonight.
It’s only a performance. Something that could really help her career.
Must not kick Dawson’s ass.
Instead, I concentrate on the pictures Cindy captured of Shelby and me. The first one’s us facing the camera, but it’s the second one—us looking at each other that seizes my lungs. I send the first to Shelby’s mom and the second to myself before handing the phone back to Shelby.
“All right!” Cindy squeezes Shelby’s shoulders. “Perfect.”
“Thank you, Cindy.”
“You need help getting into your dress?”
“Nah.” Shelby checks the clock. “It’s almost time to run down to the meet-and-greet room.”
“All right.” Cindy gives me a quick wave. “Nice to meet you.”
I nod at her, then focus on Shelby. “You need anything?”
“What do you think?” She spins around in her chair to face me, tilting her head at a seductive angle.
Honestly, with the layers of shit spackled on, she’s barely recognizable. Cindy transformed my girl into some red-carpet-walking pageant queen version of herself. “You’re beautiful no matter what.”
“I sense a but.”
“No buts.” I shrug. “You look like Shelby Morgan, country superstar.”
“Hmm, I guess that’s a compliment.” She slides out of the chair and walks over to her trunk. “Shoot. I should’ve hung these up earlier.” She pulls out two balls of colorful fabric and some contraption that looks like a tan lace cage.
She shakes out the dresses and tosses a bright blue one over the back of the couch before stepping inside the small bathroom. Again, I watch her all creeper-style while she carefully strips off her top to avoid messing her hair. “Can you help me?”
“Putting clothes on you isn’t really my thing.” But it’s not like I’m going to say no to touching Shelby.
Reaching behind her, she unhooks the bra she’s wearing and slowly slips it off, baring the creamy expanse of her shoulders and back.
That’s it. My steps quicken and in seconds I’m close enough to trace my finger down her spine.
She shivers from the contact. “Cindy will kill me if you smudge my makeup.”
“I can work around that.” I hug her against my chest. “Mmm.” I pepper kisses from her neck to her shoulder and cup her breasts. “Fill my hands nice. Just like I remember.”
She gasps and grinds her ass against me as I flick my thumbs over her nipples. “Rooster?”
“What?” I move us in front of the small mirror over the sink. We’re an interesting picture. Beauty about to be devoured by the beast. “Look how pretty you are,” I whisper against her ear.
She moans and wriggles against me. I plunge my hand down the front of her shorts, wedging my fingers between her thighs. “You’re soaked.”
“It’s hot,” she whispers.
I slide one finger through her slit and she gasps.