“If it is, then I’m selfish too.” He kisses my cheek. “We can stay here or grab a room at the hotel your crew’s staying at. Up to you.”
While I’m enjoying our time here, I won’t be able to sleep if I’m worried I’ll be late tomorrow. “Hotel. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Let’s go.” He jumps off the table, boots rustling the grass, and holds out his hand. “I need to say good night to Chaser. And I’ll give Jiggy and Dex the option to come with us—and get their own rooms.”
“Shoot. I feel bad making them spend extra money—”
He presses a finger to my lips. “Dex is always up for a road trip. Jigsaw’s up for anything—if you hadn’t noticed. Don’t sweat it.”
Inside the clubhouse, Rooster wastes no time locating Chaser and Mallory.
One corner of Chaser’s mouth hitches up as we approach. “Headin’ out?”
Rooster squeezes my hand. “Yeah, she’s rolling out early.”
“I remember those days.” Chaser nods at me. “Thanks for coming.”
“Sure.” My tongue’s all tangled. “Thanks for havin’ me.”
“Anytime, Shelby,” Mallory says.
Chaser holds out his hand and pulls Rooster in, slapping his back. “Good to see you, brother. Don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t,” Rooster promises.
“And tell Z to get his ass out here.” He snaps his fingers. “We’re doing a big thing for our thirtieth in a couple months. You’ll have to come.”
Mallory’s face brightens. She clasps her hands together. “I already talked to Hope and Lilly about it a little while ago. We’ll send official invites soon.” She squeezes my hand. “Of course, you’re also welcome to come, Shelby.”
She sounds awfully confident Rooster and I will still be together in a few months. “Thank you.”
Rooster curls his arm around my waist without hesitation. “Thanks, Mallory.”
“If you can…with your schedule,” she adds. “I know how hard it is when you’re on the road so much.”
After a few more pleasantries, we say good night. Rooster searches the club but can’t find Jigsaw or Dex.
“I’ll text them. Let’s go.”
In the truck, he pulls out his phone.
“You guys really look out for each other, don’t ya?” I ask.
“Leave no man behind. I just want to hear back from one of them before we leave.”
“Sure thing.” I slip my phone free of my pocket and scroll through my emails. One subject stands out.
WILL YOU MARRY ME?
I click on it.
Dear Shelby,
Roses are red, violets are blue,
I really want to marry you.
Tomorrow night would be better,
For us to get together.
You’ll always be mine.
I promise you, the sex will be fine.
Please say yes.
Don’t respond with rejection.
You don’t want to miss out on my massive erection.
Love, Floyd. 937-555-9375
“Eww!” I click delete but scrubbing my brain of that creep-tastic poem won’t be as easy.
“What’s wrong?” Rooster asks.
“Nothing. Just some creepy fan mail. I’ll never understand why they think being gross will work.”
His face pulls into a frown. “Gross how?”
I retrieve the email from my trash folder and show it to him.
“What the fuck? You’ve gotten more messages like this?”
“All the time.” I squint at him. “Me and every other female who has a social media account. At least there’s no dick pic attached this time.”
“What?”
“How can you be so unaware?”
“I assure you, never in my twenty-eight years has it occurred to me to send a picture of my dick to a stranger.”
Something about his serious tone sends me into a fit of giggles. “So, you send them to your friends?”
“No.” He glances at my phone again and taps the screen.
“What are you doing?”
“Forwarding that to my account.”
“What? Why?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Rooster!” I lunge to his side of the truck, grabbing for my phone. “Give me that.”
“Here.” He hands it over. “All done.”
“You can’t go harassing my fans.”
“That’s not a fan. That’s a creep who needs to learn some manners.”
“He’s not the only one,” I grumble. I open my Instagram account. Takes less than a second to find some perv’s comment on my most recent post.
“Shelby,” I read out loud. “I bet you’d ride my face like a mechanical bull. What do ya say? Cowgirl up?” I click my phone screen off, in case Rooster gets any ideas. “You can’t go after all of them, Rooster.”
“That’s fucking bullshit.”
I squint at him. “I can’t believe you’re so shocked.”
He shakes his head. “Actually, I’m not. Some of the girls we work with get some pretty twisted messages, but—”
“Oh, you think because I’m a sweet, sassy little country singer those kinda guys will treat me nicer than they treat a stripper? Nah. All women are whores dying to see a dick in their inbox to them.”
He busts up laughing. “I still don’t like it.”
I reach over and tug on his beard. “And I wouldn’t like you so much if you did.”
“Seriously, though.” He takes a deep breath. “I want you to be careful.”
“I am. I never post pics until after I leave the location. I don’t answer those creepy messages. I don’t go off exploring by myself when we’re in a new city—”
He leans in and presses his mouth to mine—a soft kiss that whips into something wild and demanding.
And then it’s over.
Woozy from the kiss, I’m slow to open my eyes.
“I know this is…new and we’re still figuring out how this long-distance thing works, but I can’t help wanting to protect you. Can’t help wanting to beat the shit out of anyone who disrespects you. It’s just who I am.”
“I understand that.” I force a quick smile. “I kinda like that about you.”
“Good.”
“It’s a little weird for me, though.” The intensity between us feels too heavy, so I stare out the window. “My momma’s fierce.”
He chuckles softly. “I remember.”
“Well, I watched her fall apart after my sister…after Hayley…”
He reaches over and squeezes my hand.
“Then my dad just walked out. Not that he was some super-dad even before Hayley got sick. He was one of those ‘fetch me a beer while I sit and watch television all night’ kind of dads when he got home from work. Never paid all that much attention to us in the first place. It broke her a little. I had to fend for myself and look out for her.”
I risk glancing up and find him staring at me, beard twitching from grinding his jaw.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to take a detour there.”
“I’m listening.”
I wipe my hands against my skirt, trying to force the thoughts in my head into words on my tongue. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m not familiar with someone else looking out for me. My mom worries about me but it’s different.”
“Shelby. Look at me.” He waits until I comply, then trails his knuckles down the side of my cheek. “You’re not alone anymore.”
Chapter Thirty
Shelby
The next morning, I’m fighting tears as Rooster and I leave our hotel room and quietly walk through the silent hallway to the elevator. It’s early. If I hadn’t been woken by Greg’s text, I’d assume no one in the building was awake yet.
The sun’s barely peeking over the mountains and the sky matches my gloomy mood. At least the air is still cool. As my protest against the early morning wake-up, I’m still in my fluffy mint-green fleece jamm
y pants and a T-shirt with two lambs kissing on the front. In the name of decency, I slipped a bra on underneath my shirt and stuffed my feet into my Converse.
Jigsaw and Dex are parked next to Rooster’s truck, leaning on their bikes, sipping cups of coffee. Rooster rips a shrill whistle and they wave to acknowledge the greeting.
The three tour buses for Dawson’s crew and Thundersmoke line the edge of the parking lot.
Hmph. Doesn’t look like any of them are awake yet.
Our sad little van is parked along the curb. Rooster taps on the door and our driver, James, opens it. “Mornin’, Shelby.”
“Morning,” I grumble.
“I got her stuff,” Trent says, walking up behind us. He scowls at Rooster and I scowl right back.
Rooster doesn’t bother engaging.
“You leaving right away?” Rooster asks James.
“You got time.”
“Thanks.” Rooster rests his palm at the small of my back and guides me over to the truck.
“Morning, Shelby.” Jigsaw grins at me.
“Morning.” I nod at Dex. “Morning.”
“You stay at Chaser’s?” Rooster asks.
“We grabbed a room here earlier this morning.” Jigsaw yawns and stretches.
“Someone should’ve warned me he sleeps naked,” Dex says.
Jigsaw grins. “Nah, that was just for you, buddy.”
Rooster groans and steers me toward the tailgate where we have some privacy. I lean against the cool metal, trying not to look up at him or all the heartache gathering in my chest will pour from my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” He rubs my bare arm. “Are you warm enough?”
“I’m fine.” Such a lie. “The air feels good.”
“Talk to me,” he pleads.
“Rooster,” I whisper, finally daring to look up at him.
He stares into my eyes and I search his face, trying to commit every bit of him to memory.
“What, chickadee?” he says lightly.
I can’t fake the same light cheeriness. Not when I’m coming apart inside. “I’ll miss you.”
His smile fades. “I’m gonna miss you too.”
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.
I pump my fist in the air with appreciation at his attempt to cheer me up.
The guys are in their designated spots, and I murmur hellos. Trent tosses my favorite blanket at me, hitting me in the face with it. I hug it to my chest and stick my nose in the cozy fleece. “Did you wash it?”
He shrugs. “They had a washer and dryer on our floor.”
“Thank you.”
His shoulders jerk in another whatever shrug. I curl up in my seat, pulling my blanket around me. As much as I try to resist, I can’t help pressing my face against the window to spy on Rooster. The glass is tinted, so he can’t see me watching him as he talks to his brothers, flicking a glance at the van every couple minutes.
Come on. Hurry up. Why’d Greg call me over here if we were just going to idle for minutes?
James finally drops in
to his seat. Greg smacks the van door before jogging off to his own vehicle.
Even though he can’t see me, Rooster lifts his hand as the van pulls out of the parking lot. I press my fingers to the glass and choke down a sob.
Maybe this is what my momma meant. This moment. Right here. Lost in the time Rooster and I were able to spend together, my brain buried how much it hurt when we’d said goodbye in Texas months ago.
Maybe she remembered how sad I’d been after Rooster left.
Back then, I had the upcoming tour and hours of rehearsals to pull me out of my funk. Now, I’ve got nothing but miles of road ahead of me to miss him and only warm memories to keep me company.
Chapter Thirty-One
Rooster
Watching Shelby’s van pull away is harder than I’d expected.
Can’t remember ever feeling this way about someone.
“You all right?” Dex asks quietly.
“Yeah. We made plans. I’ll see her soon.”
He claps me on the back. “That’s good.”
I side-eye him. “You’re not gonna tell me how whipped I am?”
“Nah, that’s Jigsaw’s job.”
“Who’s giving me a job?” Jigsaw wraps an arm around each of our necks. “What kind of job? Hand job? Blow job?”
“I’ll give you fuckin’ job.” I shake him off and stretch, already dreading the long drive ahead of me. Without Shelby by my side, being cooped up in a cage is intolerable. “Y’all ready to head back?”
“Aw, listen to that. Rooster said y’all. Startin’ to sound like your girl,” Jigsaw says. “Is yeehaw next?”
“Fuck off.” I push my middle finger in his face and he slaps my arm away.
“You gonna be okay?” Jigsaw’s mouth turns down as if he’s feeling sorry for me. “You need to go to the bathroom and have a cry about missin’ Shelby? We’ll wait.”
“You’re extra-strength asshole today.” Dex pulls his keys from his pocket.
“Rooster knows I’m fucking with him.” He adopts a more serious tone. “Be straight with me. You all right?”
Rhythm of the Road Page 20