I’m thwarted again by the director’s assistant. “Good job, guys. I’ll just need you back at noon tomorrow, so he can film you with your instruments.”
“What the fuck? Why didn’t he get those shots today?” I snarl at her, and she backs up a few steps.
“We only had the model booked for one day and needed to get all her shots in.”
Our singer, Jacob, steps up and glares down at her. “That’s totally bogus.”
“Take it up with your manager.” She snaps her gum at us, spins around, and hurries away.
We stand around complaining, and it doesn’t escape my notice that blondie hasn’t emerged from her dressing room.
As casually as possible, I step away from the guys and go knock on the door. By dressing room, I mean the closet someone threw a desk, lamp, mirror and chair in. There’s no window she could have crawled out of.
Faint sniffling reaches me, and I push the door open.
Poor girl looks like the saddest wet kitten.
“Didn’t anyone give you a towel?”
She glances up at my question and straightens her spine. Big, blue eyes blink rapidly. She’s a tough cookie. Doesn’t want me to know she’s been crying.
“No.” Shivers rack her body, and yeah, I’m an asshole, but I notice her nipples threatening to pop through her flimsy halter top. My thumbs twitch with the need to rub over them, but I keep my hands at my sides.
Pissed that a girl who’s basically an employee of my band is being treated so shitty, I track down some towels. Blondie’s eyes widen in surprise when I darken her doorway again.
“Here.”
“Thank you.” She shakes the largest towel out and wraps it around herself, then unfolds the other one to dry her hair.
“Uh, I’m sorry about the hose thing. We didn’t know about it until the last minute.”
She glances up as if she’s startled to find me still standing there.
“Chaser! We’re leaving!” Jacob calls out.
I can’t tear my gaze away from the beauty in front of me. “I’ll catch up later,” I say over my shoulder.
The guys heckle me, using a fair amount of curse words, but I’m one of those guys who the more you try to talk me into something, the less likely I am to do it.
“You don’t have to stay. I’m fine,” she says.
I’m also a guy who loves a challenge. “No, I’ll make sure you get home safely.”
She raises an eyebrow at me. But I saw the way our creepy director kept eyeing her earlier. No way am I leaving her alone with him.
Well, that, and I want her all to myself.
“Can you close the door?” she asks, pulling me out of my plans to get her naked in my apartment. Damn, she’s got a sexy voice. A hint of a foreign accent I can’t place. Pervy bastard that I am, I keep imagining her proper, princess voice, whispering dirty things in my ear all night long.
“Sure.”
Knowing she’s undressing in that room, waiting on the other side of the door is torture.
I duck into the bathroom and peel off the ridiculous leather pants the stylist stuffed me into. Once I’m in my jeans, feeling more like myself, I return to the dressing room. Quicker than I expected, she opens the door. Again, she seems surprised to find me waiting for her.
“You’re still here.”
We stand there for a second taking each other in. She’s changed into some baggy light denim shorts, a neon pink off-the-shoulder shirt, and plain white canvas sneakers. Far more conservative than her costume for the video shoot. Still sexy as hell on her.
“At your service,” I finally answer.
She gives me a skeptical look.
I flash my most non-threatening grin. “Come on, I’ve got a 1987 FXR Harley.”
Her lips twitch into a brief smile. “I don’t know what that is.”
“A motorcycle.”
Still unimpressed.
“It’s got a special edition blue frame. Harley only built six hundred and fifty of them that year.”
“Oh,” she says in a dramatic voice, clearly humoring me, “well in that case, it sounds like something I shouldn’t pass up.”
“Exactly.”
We make it out to the sidewalk without speaking. When we reach my bike, she stops and stares. “It’s very pretty.”
Pretty. No one’s ever called my bike pretty before. Good thing none of my club brothers are around to hear that. They’d bust my balls for days. “Thanks.”
Still she hesitates. “I’ve never been on one of these before.”
“It’s easy, princess.” I talk her through the proper way to mount the bike and center her weight. In no time, she’s snuggled up against my back, arms around my waist, and we’re cruising down the Sunset Strip. It’s a Tuesday evening, so it’s not as busy as normal. There’re still enough people making the rounds to provide some entertainment.
Instead of taking her home, I drive down to the beach and slip into the first spot I find. Since she’s skittish and never told me where she lives, the beach seems perfect.
“That was amazing!” she yells as she gets off the bike and shakes her hair loose. It’s the first time I’ve seen a genuine smile on her face, and it steals my breath for a second.
“You want to get something to eat? You must be starving after that shoot.”
Again, she seems surprised by my concern, and it makes me wonder if anyone’s ever taken care of this girl in her life.
I’m filled with an overwhelming need to protect this woman I barely know.
My desire to fuck her is overshadowed by my need to learn everything about her.
That’s a first.
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Read all about Chaser and Mallory’s epic romance in the Hollywood Demons Trilogy (A Lost Kings MC Spin-Off Series) Starting with
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Author Notes
Wow! Has it really been two years since Rooster and Shelby rolled into my life and tossed all my plans up in the air? Yes, yes it has.
The end is here. Or is it? No, I don’t mean that I’m writing another book for Rooster and Shelby. What I mean is, like all the Lost Kings MC characters, you’ll still see them in future books. Although, I’ll never rule out a future book for any character.
These two have grown so much since I came up with their meet-cute while strolling along the San Antonio Riverwalk in 2019. They waited patiently while I finished the Hollywood Demons series (Chaser and Mallory’s story.) Then they completely took over and dominated my life. Shelby’s sweet, sassy off-the-wall commentary was exactly what I needed to survive the shitshow of 2020 and the continuing awfulness that 2021 is turning into. Rooster’s gruff but loving nature helped pull me through the days when it seems like humanity has hit peak awfulness and entitlement.
I had so much fun writing Diamond in the Dust. But also a ton of anxiety about it too. At times, it felt like several different books. There were so many areas I wanted to stop and explore even though I had a very clear path for where this book needed to go.
But along the way, I so badly wanted to dig into different places. To satisfy that urge, I stopped and quickly wrote a few little side-pieces. I’ll have to figure out what to do with them when I recover from this book.