Something happened all right—I’m more in love with Shelby than ever. But my past and Shelby’s acceptance of it has nothing to do with her set list.
“It’s not my song. You got a question about music stuff, ask her.”
He blinks and stares as if he’s about to argue but finally raises a hand in surrender. “Okay, okay.”
Of course, now that Greg asked, I can’t stop questioning why she took the song out. My ego isn’t so big I’m worried it has anything to do with me. It is a popular song though. Fans had chanted White Knight and held up signs begging her to play it tonight. Who knows? After playing it every single night on tour, maybe she’s bored and wanted to mix things up?
There’s no time to ask when she walks off stage. Her skin’s flushed and sweaty. She’s smiling but I can tell by the smile that doesn’t reach her eyes and her slower pace that she’s beat. I scoop her into my arms and kiss her cheek, wishing I could take her back to the RV now.
“Meet and greet.” I try to force some pep in my voice. “It’s not a long guest list, though.”
“Anyone special I should know about ahead of time?”
“Not that anyone’s told me.”
I set her down inside the dressing room and help her search for an outfit to change into. “I like the meet-n-greets better when they’re before the show,” she mutters.
“No you don’t. You say you’re always too jittery,” I remind her.
She sighs and sets the jeans in her hands to the side. “Is it terrible that I don’t like them?”
“No.”
“I mean, I like meeting fans. I do. But.” She shakes her hands in front of her body and dances on her toes for a second. “But I get so dang nervous sometimes.”
“I know you do. But you always handle it well. And your fans appreciate it so much.”
“I don’t mean to be ungrateful.”
I rest my hands on her shoulders, willing her to meet my eyes. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I’ll never think badly about you for telling the truth. You’re entitled to your feelings and there’s nothing wrong with them.”
Her shoulders drop and her lips curve in a relieved smile. “Thank you.”
“Come on.” I clap my hands. “Can’t keep ‘em waiting.”
She tosses an adorable stink-eye my way while she hurries into her jeans. Somehow I keep my hands to myself while she squeezes into a glittering red halter top that’s similar to the dress she wore on stage.
“Is that a Lynn creation too?” I ask.
She grins at me. “It is.”
“Need to find you some snazzy red cowgirl boots to go with it.”
“Snazzy, huh?”
I smirk at her. “I said what I said.”
She slides her arms around me and rests her chin on my chest. “You make me so happy.”
“Same, chickadee.” I give her a quick squeeze, then tap her butt. “Time to go.”
At the door, she slips her hand in mine and peers up at me. “I’m really looking forward to snuggling with you later.”
Her words wrap around my heart and squeeze in the best way. “It’s a date.”
Shelby
My eyelids feel like they’ve got sandpaper on the insides. I don’t ask Rooster to find me some eyedrops, though. Then I’ll have to worry about raccoon eyes.
I scan the line of people waiting to meet me.
Just a few more. Then it’s jammy pants and snuggling with my man time.
“Hi there!” I fix a chipper smile on my face and wiggle my fingers at the little girl who steps up to the table next.
Her bottom lip wobbles as she stares up at Jigsaw and Dex standing guard in front of the table. Rooster’s probably right behind me adding to the intimidation factor.
“Guys,” I whisper.
Dex seems to take the hint quicker and steps back. Jiggy smiles down at the girl, which I think only scares her more.
“She’s shy,” the girl’s momma says, batting her eyelashes at Jiggy.
Oh boy.
“Don’t be shy, Shelby doesn’t bite,” he says to the girl.
I stand and step around to the other side, squatting down so I’m eye-level with the little cutie. “Did you enjoy the show?” I ask.
“I made you this.” She thrusts a small, crocheted flamingo doll at me.
“Wow.” I widen my eyes. “You made this?”
She presses her chin into her shoulder, hiding a shy grin. “Well, Grandma helped.”
“That is so sweet. Thank you so much.”
I lift my gaze, searching for someone to take our photo. Jiggy’s busy flirting with the little girl’s mom. “Rooster, can you take a picture of us?” I wave to him.
He scoops my phone off the table and snaps a few shots. Still holding onto the flamingo, I grab one of the glossy photos I’ve been signing. “What’s your name?”
“Kelsey.”
“What a pretty name,” I gush while scrawling a few quick words and my signature.
She crushes the photo to her chest as soon as I hand it over. “Thank you, Shelby.”
The teenage girls who are next in line push ahead as soon as Kelsey takes her momma’s hand.
“Why didn’t you play White Knight,” the one who appears to be the leader of the pack demands.
Startled by the girl’s imperious tone, I stand and walk behind the table to my seat before answering. “We decided to mix up the set list a little,” I say.
“Well, it’s my favorite song.”
You expecting me to sing it on command or something? Where’s this girl’s momma? Lord knows mine would’ve walloped me good if I ever got mouthy with someone when I was a teenager.
“Do you have something for Shelby to sign?” Rooster’s commanding voice seems to shock the girl out of her snit.
“Yes.” One of the other girls pushes her bossy friend out of the way and sets a T-shirt on the table. “Please, Miss Shelby.”
“Sure, honey.” I grab a marker made for signing T-shirts. My mouth curves into a smile when I unfold the shirt and one of Trinity’s flamingo designs stares up at me. “My friend designed these. They’re my favorite,” I say as I scrawl my name under the flamingo’s boot.
“That’s so dope!” she squeals.
I sign shirts for the other two girls. The bratty friend doesn’t want anything signed.
“Aren’t you going to take a picture with us?” she whines.
“Sure.” I jump up, eager to move them along.
Rooster smirks as he takes the girl’s phone and snaps a few shots. Dex must sense my eagerness to get to the next person in line. He steps up and grabs a phone from one of the other girls and takes more photos.
The girls go through the photos and decide they don’t look cute enough and ask for retakes. Part of the job or not, the whole thing’s giving me a ‘dance-monkey-dance’ vibe I don’t care for.
I smile through another round of photos.
“All right,” Rooster bellows, pointing the girls toward the exit. “Next.”
Dex walks them away from the table. I breathe a sigh of relief and paste on a smile for the next person in line.