Diamond in the Dust (Lost Kings MC 18)

“Shelby Morgan, White Knight!”

“Oh my gosh,” I chant all the way to the stage.

I press my palms against the podium and gather my thoughts. I should thank Brad for being such a douche. If my ex hadn’t convinced me to take those dumb photos, I wouldn’t have fallen in the river and Rooster wouldn’t have had to rescue me that day.

And now I can’t imagine life without Rooster.

“I wrote this song for the man who saved me when I thought I was drowning.” I hold up the award. “This is for you, Logan.”

With the bright lights, I can’t actually see him in the audience, but I aim my smile that way.

“I also need to thank my writing partner Trent for helping me perfect White Knight and Greg for loving it as much as I do. Thank you both for your hard work and dedication.”

Again, I’m escorted backstage.

This time Logan’s waiting for me.

The woman in black grins like a devil. “We wanted some shots of you with your white knight and the award,” she explains.

When she turns away, I whisper, “I’m sorry,” to Logan. He shrugs and holds out his hand to me.

Together, we pose for a few photos.

“Give her a congratulations kiss!” the photographer encourages.

He sweeps me into his arms and plants a shameless kiss on my lips.

“Woo! Someone turn on the sprinklers,” a woman shouts.

Laughing, I pull away.

“Proud of you,” Logan whispers in my ear.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Shelby

The Nashville papers are full of news about the awards. Angelina brings a pile of them back to the house. But it’s the next issue of Glow that we’re most excited to get our hands on. That one she brings into the studio.

“Ah-ha!” she announces. “Here we are!”

She frowns as she reads the short piece accompanying the photo.

“Dawson Roads accompanied by rock music royalty—the daughter of Chaser Adams, legendary lead guitarist for Kickstart and the Hollywood Demons.” She scoffs. “Rock music royalty.” She rolls her eyes. “That’s pretty rich coming from the same magazine who disses my dad for writing Candy Jar all the time. Now he’s royalty. Never mind he’s a damn genius and has written songs for like half the people they salivate over.” She tosses the magazine aside. “Jerks.”

As much as she complains about her dad being overbearing, Angelina clearly loves and respects him. She’s also ready to kick some serious ass if anyone talks shit about him.

“Never mind that,” I say, perusing the article myself. “You don’t even get a name. Just ‘daughter of Chaser Adams,’” I point out.

“Well, shoot. You’re right.” She flashes both middle fingers at the magazine. “Double fuck ’ems.”

I continue flipping through the pages. Not that I want to get her more riled, but I’m curious to see if there are any photos of Rooster and me.

“Shelby Morgan and her mysterious white knight,” I read out loud. “Well, don’t feel too bad, Rooster didn’t get a name either.”

“That’s probably good for him. He doesn’t need people trying to track him down.”

Good grief, I hope if Ashley sees this, it doesn’t send her over the edge again.

“Oh!” I bounce in my seat. “Here, listen. ‘Shelby and Dawson’s date are tight-knit friends. Rumor has it, they’ve been spending time in the Dawson Roads’ studio working on Shelby’s next album that will be released on Dawson’s new independent label.’” My shoulders drop. That wasn’t as exciting as I expected. “Still no name for you. Sorry.”

“That’s okay. At least it connects me to the music industry so I don’t look like a hooker Dawson hired for the night.”

“Now, how could you be a hooker when you’re the daughter of a rock legend?”

“You!” She bursts into giggles and throws a pillow at my head. “Oh my God.”

“Rock legend’s daughter falls so far from throne, she turns to escorting country stars to major awards shows,” I announce. “The Angelina Adams Story.”

She laughs even harder. “Stahp it! You’re killing me!”

“Sounds like you’re having a good time in here.” Dawson’s gruff, but amused tone, pops our bubble of fun.

Angelina hands him the magazine. “Page twelve. I don’t even get a name.”

His mouth turns down as he scans the piece. “Sorry, darlin’. You want me to give ’em a call?”

“What? No, I’m kidding, Dawson.” Her lips twitch into a nervous smile.

“We’ll get you named next year.” He rolls the magazine and points it at us. “Bird in a Blizzard just entered the charts at number fifty-five, Shelby.”

“Wait, what?”

“It’s got special placement on all the big streaming sites. Bet it hits number one by next week,” he says with all the confidence in the world.

Angelina and I stare at each other. It’s my song and I came to the studio with a good portion of it written, but she’s credited on it too. Its success is potentially huge for her too.

“Holy shit!” She grabs my hands, yanking me out of my chair so we can jump around in a circle.