“Yes and no.” I glance around. “Dallas feels so much more congested than home.”
His lips flatten. I can’t tell if he’s disappointed or trying not to laugh or something else. “We’ll be there soon.”
“I can’t wait.” I skip ahead of him, my boots scuffing over the asphalt. “Momma promised me chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans the first night.”
He briefly closes his eyes, a slight smile curving his lips. “Can’t wait.”
I grin, thrilled he’s looking forward to going home with me even if my momma hasn’t always been the sweetest to him.
Inside the arena, Greg shows me to my dressing room. It’s nicer than most. When we’re alone, I take Rooster’s hand and bat my eyelashes at him. “You see the size of that bathroom?”
“I did.” He pulls away, setting up his laptop on a nearby table. “Cindy should be by soon. Do you know what you want to wear tonight?”
A little confused by his reaction, I stare at him for a few moments before opening my suitcase to search for the dress I want. Maybe he’s worried we don’t have enough time to get frisky.
“It’s Dallas, so big and flashy seems appropriate.” I pull out a short, silver spangled number I’ve only worn one other time on the tour. “Planning to wear it with the boots you bought me in Virginia.”
“I like it.” He watches me as if there’s more he wants to say.
Someone knocks on the door and he jumps to answer while I hang up the dress.
“Hey, Shelby,” Cindy says. “Ready for tonight?”
“Not yet, but I’m gettin’ there.”
Rooster helps her drag a chair in front of the mirror. I sit and wait while she arranges her tools on the counter with precision. Makeup, curling iron, enough spray to shellac my hair into submission for the night.
She’s applying the finishing touches to my eyes when someone else knocks on the door. Rooster’s quick to answer it.
“Shelby.” Rooster’s smooth voice reminds me of a game show announcer. “You have a special guest.”
Blinking in confusion, I turn and almost fall out of my chair.
“Momma!”
“There’s my baby!”
I jump and clear the short distance, almost knocking her over with my hug. “What are you doing here? Oh my gosh, did you make the drive?” Lord knows how much she hates big city traffic.
“No, no.” She holds me at arm’s length. “Let me look at you. Oh, you’re beautiful!”
I’m still so stunned she’s here, I barely pay attention to Jiggy slipping into the room behind her, followed by Pants, Steer, and Dex.
I grab Momma’s hand and drag her over to Cindy. “Cindy’s responsible for all of this.” I circle my finger in front of my face and fluff my hair. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
While they exchange greetings and pleasantries, I slide closer to Rooster. “Did you do this?”
His smile falters. “I thought you’d be happy.”
“I am.” I reach up and kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”
I feel light years more confident in my performance than when I started the tour. And I’m in a much better head space than when she saw me at rehearsal in Virginia. So having Momma here tonight is perfect.
Someone else knocks on the door and hoo-boy it’s gettin’ crowded in here. This time, Dawson’s the visitor.
“I heard we had a special guest tonight. How you been, Ms. Morgan?”
Darn if Momma doesn’t get all flustered with Dawson’s attention focused on her. Too bad Rooster’s brothers are lookin’ like they want to escort Dawson elsewhere after giving him a thorough ass-kicking.
“What’s happening here?” I whisper to Rooster, nodding to Jiggy.
He shakes his head.
“You ready for tonight?” Dawson asks me when he’s done fussin’ over my momma.
“Sure am.”
Dawson strokes his hand over his chin while staring at me for many seconds longer than I’m comfortable with. He motions me toward Rooster’s table, away from the lively conversation between Cindy, my mother, and the guys.
“I hate asking because of what happened…” Dawson’s gaze slides to Rooster then back to me. “But we’re near the end of the tour now. How would you feel about singing with me tonight? We could do Friends in Low Places again.” He tips his head toward my momma. “Might be fun for your mom to see live.”
“My gosh!” I rise on tiptoes a few times. “You serious?” Lord, I thought he’d never ask again after that mess with Suggs and Glenna. “Of course, I’d love to!”
“Great.” He grins and pats my shoulder. “Greg’s working on a VIP space for your mom during the show.”
“Thank you.” My eyes water. Dammit. I don’t have time for Cindy to re-do my makeup. I flash a grateful smile, chasing the happy tears away.
“Terrific.” Dawson slaps Rooster’s shoulder and nods at me. “I’ll see you later, Shelby.”
He stops to talk to my mother briefly, nods to the guys and heads out.
“That was surreal,” I whisper to Rooster. “Didn’t think he’d ask again after…everything.”
“None of that was your fault.”
“Still,” I shrug, “it caused a bunch of trouble.”
“And still not your fault,” he says in a firmer tone.
My stomach flutters. Rooster always has my back no matter what. “Thank you.”
“Shelby,” Momma says. “Jensen offered to show me where the hospitality room is. Do you still like hot water and lemon before?”
“I do. Thank you.”
“Logan?” she asks.
“I can get that, so you can stay and catch up with Shelby.”
“Well, I…” She hesitates, her gaze bouncing between Rooster and Jiggy. “I wanted to see backstage and…”
“Sure.” Rooster throws a warning glare at his friend. “Jigsaw will look after you.”
“We all will,” Pants adds.
My mother beams and joins the guys.
“Oh, brother,” I mutter, watching them fawn all over her. Even Dex.
“Now I know how you ended up such a knock-out.” Cindy smiles at me as she taps her makeup brushes into their compartments. “The guys sure seem to like her.”
“I noticed,” I grumble.
“Aw, let her enjoy herself. When you get to our age, it’s nice to be seen. You’ll understand when you’re older.”
I’m not quite sure how to respond. But I smile, nod, and thank her for her work tonight as I walk her to the door.
Rooster’s sitting at the table, shaking his head when I turn around. “I’ll talk to the guys.”
“Maybe I’m acting selfish.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “Which one of your brothers do you think will show my momma the best time?”
Rooster stares at me, a mixture of confusion and disgust slipping into his expression. “Hard to say, chickadee. I’m not in the habit of thinking about which one of my brothers is good in bed.”