“I’m a sucker for forbidden fruit,” Jigsaw agrees.
“Oh, in that case, have at it. And since I’m grown and all, she’s got loads of free time. She would absolutely expect you to be there in the mornings and to take her to the farmers’ market.”
Jiggy groans and shakes his head like someone just told him the tooth fairy isn’t real. “See, now you’re killing the fantasy for me.”
“Good! Don’t you be fantasizing about my momma.”
Dex laughs so hard, he practically rolls out of his chair. “I think I’m gonna need to ride to Texas with you guys.”
I growl in his direction but the guys only laugh harder.
“Your mom’s pretty fine.” Pants squeezes his eyes shut like he’s trying to paint himself a mental picture. “Don’t you want her to be happy?”
“Yes, of course.” I take a breath and consider my words. “But men have never made her happy. Just caused more heartache.”
“Perhaps,” Jigsaw holds his hands in the air to cut off my protest, “hear me out, but perhaps, she hasn’t met the right man.”
I glare at him.
“I think Jiggy means the right now man,” Dex adds.
“Now. Later. Couple times a year.” Jiggy cocks his head from side to side. “Whatever.”
“I’ll whatever you,” I mutter.
“Hey, if we’re done torturing Shelby, anyone want to go over our plan for visiting Washington?” Dex asks.
“We can talk about it later,” Rooster says.
Dex glances at me and nods.
See, I knew they needed some bro time.
The guys move on to talking about other stuff. Jigsaw hands me a gooey s’more oozing chocolate and marshmallow. “I was just kidding around,” he says.
“Apology accepted.” I lick the chocolate coating my fingers and nibble on my treat. “Thank you.”
I break off a messy piece and feed bites to Rooster who makes a point of sucking my fingers clean when he’s finished.
Laughing, I lean in and kiss him. He tastes like warm chocolate and everything sweet in my world. “Y’all need to talk club business?” I whisper as I pull away.
“It can wait.”
“Nah, I’m tuckered out. You guys talk.” While I stand and stretch, Rooster keeps his hands on my legs. “Night, everyone. Thank you for helping me out tonight.”
“Night, Shelby.”
I lean over and kiss Rooster.
“I won’t be long,” he promises.
“No worries.” I wave to the guys and make my way to the RV.
The guys are loud, but once I’m inside, I can’t make out anything they’re saying. I flick on the television, change, and crawl into bed.
Rooster steps inside sometime later.
He smiles when he notices I’m awake. “Hey, thought you might be sleeping.”
“Nope.”
He runs through his night routine, then locks everything up tight and joins me.
“I always feel bad that the guys are sleeping outside,” I whisper.
“Don’t. They do it all the time on runs.” He gestures toward the other end. “Jiggy will probably be in later if it makes you feel better.”
I hum a noise of agreement and snuggle up close, listening to the steady, reassuring thump of his heart.
Finally, finally, I have my wish for the night. I’m in my fluffy jammy pants, cuddled tight under the covers with my man, watching something completely brainless to let my mind wander.
I let out a happy sigh.
When the movie’s over, Rooster clicks the television off. Darkness and silence fall over us like a comforting blanket. Outside, crickets weave their constant nocturnal chorus.
“You were stunning on stage tonight.” Rooster brushes my hair aside and kisses my shoulder.
I murmur a “thank you,” and snuggle closer. Mind still spinning from the evening, it feels good to be still with him in the quiet of our little oasis.
“You haven’t played White Knight the last few shows. How come?” he asks, stroking his fingers over my side.
Yikes. I don’t want to go within ten feet of that conversation. “I dunno,” I mumble, hoping he’ll think I’m almost asleep and drop it.
The soothing movement of his fingers over my skin stops. His body shifts as if he’s staring at me but I’m too chicken to open my eyes.
“Shelby?”
I sigh. “We don’t have to talk about it now.”
That answer’s not good enough for Rooster. He sits up and clicks on the lamp. The sudden movement tosses me to my side of the mattress. I hug my pillow, rolling myself into a ball.
Everything inside me says to make up a story. Smooth it over with a fib. I shouldn’t drag those painful memories to the surface again.
But I can’t lie to him either.
I uncurl my body and stare up at him.
“I thought the song was doing well?” He glances at the ceiling. “Greg thinks it’s somehow my fault you’re not playing it. He asked if we had a fight.”
“He did what?” Now I’m wide awake. And pissed at Greg.
“Don’t worry. I gave him my polite version of fuck off. Told him to talk to you about the music.”
My irritation with Greg fades, replaced by love for Rooster. He’s always so careful to steer clear of my creative decisions. Vehicles, security, safety, travel—he has no problem takin’ over and being bossy as hell in those areas. Music—he’s hands off.
“Shelby? Is there a reason you’re not playing White Knight?” His voice remains low and soothing.
How can I explain my reasoning without sounding…I don’t know, presumptuous? Rude?
What a pickle.
“I…” My voice falters and I run my hand over the sheet willing the right words to form in my head. After a few seconds, I sit next to him, pulling the blanket around me.
Rooster’s gaze drops to where I’m clutching the blanket but he doesn’t comment.
“After what you told me…” I stare at my lap. “About your parents…your mom. I don’t feel right singing that song anymore.”
“Why?”
My heart thuds. “I think your instinct to protect. . .to rescue comes from losing so much. I feel awful, like the song makes light of that now.”
“Shelby.” His hoarse voice, full of emotion, draws my gaze to his face. “Baby, come here.” He holds out his arms and I hurry to scoot into his lap. His big, solid, warm body brings so much comfort, I wish I could do the same for him, instead of dredging up the past again. He bands his arms around me and rests his chin on my head.
“I’ve never…I wouldn’t have ever made that connection.”
Great, now I’ve made it worse.
He strokes his hand over my hair and down my back. “I don’t like the song because it’s about me—or so you say,” he teases. “I love it because every time you sing those opening lines, it brings back the day we met so vividly. My first glimpse of your sun-kissed cheeks.” He strokes his knuckles over the side of my face. “Your pretty red lips.” He rubs his thumb over my bottom lip. “Slogging through that warm, murky water weighing down my boots and jeans. Fishing your squirmy little body out of the water. The feel of you in my arms. The sweet way you clung to me as I carried you out of that filthy river.”