“Nah, they don’t have a lot of extra space.” He gestures toward what I now realize is a cluster of king-sized beds all pushed together to make one giant orgy playground. “Unless you want to take a chance on that.”
“Pass.” I squeeze his hand. “Thank you.” If I wasn’t with him, he’d probably stay here with his brothers. “We don’t have to spend the money on a hotel, though. Can’t we stay in the RV? So you can spend more time with the guys here?”
“I want to take you somewhere nice for our last few nights before I head home.”
My heart squeezes. We haven’t talked about it a lot but after the last show, I’m staying in Nashville to record my album. Rooster’s planning to use my recording time to head home and check in with his club.
“Logan.” I can’t hide the anxiety in my voice. “I’m gonna miss you.”
His mouth curves up. “I’m not going anywhere yet, chickadee. And I’ll be back to take you to the awards show.”
A different anxiety flutters in my chest. I’m not ready to think about the Country Music Awards yet. I haven’t thought about a dress or shoes or what I’ll do if I run into that damn Glenna Wilson again.
“One thing at a time, chickadee.” Rooster brushes his knuckles over my cheek, chasing my worries away. “No stress tonight. Relax and have fun. You’ve earned it.”
Rooster
Jiggy joins us inside. “Tex was hurt you didn’t say hello.”
“I’ll talk to him later. You seen Digger or Squiggy yet?”
“Nope.”
“Digger knows we’re coming, though, right?” Shelby asks.
“Yup.” My gaze lands on someone I recognize. “I see a familiar face or two.” I lift my chin at the couple in the center of the room.
“Who?” Shelby asks, following my line of sight.
Anya notices us and bounces up on her toes, waving for us to join them.
Shelby grins and waves back. “Thank God. I’m so excited to see someone I know.”
“What the fuck is Ice doing in Deadbranch?” Jiggy asks in a low voice.
“No clue.”
“Why’d he bring Anya with him?”
“I don’t know. Would you like me to get out my crystal ball for you?”
“Gee, could ya?” he sneers.
Anya meets us halfway. She and Shelby squeal and hug like they’re old friends who haven’t seen each other in a decade.
“Didn’t realize they were so close.” Jigsaw’s tense, like he’s holding back some commentary that’s bound to annoy me.
“Shut up.”
Ice approaches with a watchful eye on the girls.
Jiggy finally cracks. “You’re not worried she’ll try to rope Shelby into—”
“Don’t,” I warn.
“Rooster!” Ice shakes my hand, then pulls me in for a hug, slapping my back. A more enthusiastic greeting than I’d expect from the stoic prez of our Everhart charter but I guess that’s a good sign.
Jiggy receives a similar hello.
“How’d you end up down here?” I ask.
Ice shrugs. “Thought we’d take a ride.”
He’s casual. Almost too casual. It’s not unusual for bikers to take off. Having clubhouses to stop and stay at makes it even easier. But Ice is a busy guy, with his own club to run.
Maybe Digger’s troubles have gotten worse.
And like a shark scenting blood, maybe Ice is here for a chunk of Deadbranch’s pie.
Shelby
Anya hooks her arm through mine and leads me toward the back of the club. Near the stripper stage.
“I’m so happy to see someone I know,” she gushes.
“Me too.”
“Sorry, I don’t even know where we’re going,” she says, stopping at a row of chairs lined up in front of the stage. “I knew the guys wanted to talk. I’ve never been here before.”
“Ah, so we’re Deadbranch clubhouse virgins together,” I tease.
She blinks. “Well, there’s a word that hasn’t been associated with me in a long time,” she says with a dry sarcasm that speaks to my soul.
“Girl, same.”
She grins at me. “How’s the tour been?”
“I hate saying it, but I’m exhausted. Thank God, there’s only one show left.”
“We should celebrate. How long are you guys sticking around?”
“I’m not sure. I’m supposed to head to Nashville to record right after.”
“Busy, busy,” she teases.
“You should come to the show,” I suggest. “It’s the last one of the tour so it’ll be huge. Dawson’s throwing a big party after.”
Anya drops her gaze to the side. “Ah, are you sure you want me there?”
Shoot, I thought she liked country music. Maybe I’m being too pushy. “If you don’t want to, I understand—”
“No, I mean, are you sure you want to put the porn girl on your guest list? I thought country music leans conservative? I don’t want to make you look bad or something.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t thought of that. Her faraway eyes and turned-down mouth remind me of a lost little girl. I rest my hand over hers, not sure how to respond. Worried I’ll say the wrong thing and hurt her feelings. “I’m inviting you as my friend, not planning to announce your job to everyone.”
“Well, I saw the stuff that got posted about you from the strip club. I’d hate to make it worse.” She hunches over and pretends to clack away at a keyboard. “Shelby Morgan graduates from stripper poles to skin flicks.”
“Those creeps would love that,” I grumble. “I’m allowed to have friends who do other stuff. You really think people would recognize you that easily?”
She tilts her head. Shoot, maybe that was rude. She’s probably a more recognizable “celebrity” than I am, especially to a certain male demographic.
“I get recognized in lots of places I don’t expect to.”
“That must be awkward.” There’s no other way to say it. I feel vulnerable having people listen to the lyrics I write. It would freak me the hell out if I ran into people who’d seen me naked in the most intimate of ways.
“Yeah.” She exhales a long, slow breath. “That’s pretty much why I stick to the clubhouse or my house anymore.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here.”
“Thanks.” She laughs. “I’m safe with Ice. He can freeze a creep with the power of his eyes alone.”
My gaze slides sideways. No kidding. Even though he and Rooster are involved in a pretty intense conversation, they both glance our way with reassuring frequency.
“That’ll come in handy backstage. Plenty of creeps lurking about.”
“Oooo,” she squeals and claps her hands together. “I’ve never been to a concert before.” Her smile fades a bit. “I better ask Ice if it’s okay.”
Something about that rubs me wrong, but I nod.
“I mean, I don’t know if he had other plans or whatever. He’d be worried—”