Lyrics on the Wind (Lost Kings MC 17)
I slip on my big sunglasses but leave my hair down. In a town full of real celebrities, no one should care enough to recognize lil’ ol’ Shelby Morgan.
“What else do you want?” Rooster asks as we approach the counter. “Besides coffee.”
“One of those little egg-white thingies.”
“They’re like two bites. You sure you only want one?”
“Maybe two.”
The corner of his mouth curls up. “Two spinach and cheese egg-bites and a large coffee.”
Could I love this man any more than I already do? “Have I mentioned how happy I am that you’re here?”
“Yeah, but I don’t mind hearing it again.” He curls his arm around my waist. “Jiggy should be here soon. Then we’ll get on the road. Stop and see some beaches.”
“I feel bad you made him ride all by himself.”
Rooster laughs. “Don’t. He badgered the hell out of me for not going to the show with you.”
“Aww. You know I’m not mad about it, right?”
“Yeah, chickadee. I know. Still, won’t happen again. Promise.”
As we approach the counter, he releases me to pull out his wallet. I unzip my purse but the stern side-eye he gives me has my fingers zipping it shut. “Go grab us a table,” he suggests.
I glance at the small, cluttered seating area. Except for one lone woman wearing an enormous sun hat, the space is empty. Everyone seems to be taking their orders to go.
I snake my way through the tables and chairs, finally deciding on a spot in front of the floor-to-ceiling window.
The heat from outside’s already beating against the glass. Glad I’m wearing shorts. Maybe I can get a little color on my legs later.
Rooster’s gaze constantly searches the surrounding area as he waits for our order. Every so often, his eyes land on me and he smiles.
My gaze wanders, stopping on the girl in the hat who seems to be gawking at my man.
Hands off, lady.
Can’t blame her, though. Rooster’s one exquisitely-sculpted man. I spend a few moments enjoying the way he stands, confident and calm. Hands in his pockets. Wide shoulders back, chest lifted. He likes wearin’ his jeans a lil’ on the baggy side, which suits me fine. No one else needs to know about the firm rear end he’s hiding under that denim.
Finally, the clerk hands him his order. Rooster catches me eyeballin’ him as he turns and heads my way. He lifts his eyebrows, a playful expression rippling over his face.
“Whatcha lookin’ at, chickadee?” he says as he sets the small green tray in front of me.
I bat my lashes and answer in a slow drawl, “How sexy you look in those jeans.”
“That right?” His gaze drops to my crossed legs peekin’ out from under the table. “Did I tell you how much I’m looking forward to staring at those sleek legs of yours on our drive to San Francisco?”
“Yes, but you can tell me again.”
“Can’t wait.” He leans down and kisses my cheek. “I’m gonna run to our room and grab the rest of our stuff, load up the truck, and move it around front so we’re ready to go when Jiggy arrives.”
“Do you want me to help?”
“Nope.” He takes another quick look around. “You’ll be all right here.” He nods to one of the security guards. “No one should bother you.”
“Logan Randall, I’m not a little kid. I’ll be okay.” I search the area again. “Best believe I’ll scream my head off if someone tries stuffin’ me in a box.”
The playful smile on his lips fades. “Not funny.”
“I’m fine.” I pick up my phone. “Got plenty of comments to go through on my social media and some photos to post.”
“I shouldn’t be long.”
Content in the sunlight, I munch on my egg-bites and sip my coffee while I post some photos from the other night. Comments pop up almost instantly. I respond to the nice ones and delete the nasty ones without comment—because fuck mean people. I’m sick of ’em.
“Shelby, right? I wanted to speak to you.” A husky female voice interrupts my scrolling.
Big hat girl.
My inner warning bells start clanging.
Why’d she wait so long to approach me? No, correction, why’d she wait until Logan left the area to approach me?
If she’s a fan, she would’ve said something right away, wouldn’t she?
“You are Shelby Morgan, right?” she asks again. “The singer?”
“Yes,” I answer carefully, slowly running my gaze over her to see if she’s reaching for a weapon or something. Can’t be too careful after what happened in Virginia.
I scan the room, searching for Rooster. Or hell, anyone at all. The security guard by the elevators is staring straight ahead toward the front door. The clerks behind the counter are busy cleaning out the coffee pots.
At least people are around if I need to start screaming.
Wait a second.
I take another gander at this gal. Can’t be more than a buck twenty soaking wet. She’s got some height on me, but I’m pretty darn spunky when I wanna be.