“It’s second nature.” He taps the side of his head. “Can’t help it.”
I curl my arm over her shoulders. “Ignore him.”
“You’re chipper at the ass-crack of dawn,” Steer grumbles.
“It’s noon,” Shelby says.
“He’ll be fine once we get on the road.” Pants thumps Steer’s back a few times. “He’s cranky because he left a warm bunny in his bed—”
“I don’t need details.” Shelby presses her palms against her ears.
The guys crack up and tease her with more lurid tales.
“All right,” Dex says. “Let’s get on the road before it gets any later.”
“I’m going to miss you guys.” Shelby hugs Dex. “Thank you so much.”
“Any time, sweetheart. Make sure you come visit when you’re in New York.”
“Of course I will.”
“No way, if she’s on the East Coast, she’s staying with us,” Pants says. He holds out his arms and Shelby hugs him next. “Everhart’s where it’s at.”
“You guys were good to me,” she says diplomatically. “Be safe.”
Steer picks her up for his own hug. “I’ll definitely see you when you’re home with Rooster.”
“Yes, you will,” she promises.
Damn, do I like how confident she sounds about that.
We end up bullshitting with the guys for another half hour before they finally take off.
“No one’s riding alone, right?” Shelby says.
“Dex has maybe two hours after he drops Steer off. But it’s all our territory,” I explain. “He and Dex will stay in Virginia, then leave for New York from there.”
“I’m sticking around, songbird.” Jiggy tips his head my way. “This chucklefuck will get lost without me.”
“I doubt that.” Shelby grins. “But I’m glad you’re staying.”
I check the directions Dawson gave me. “You riding with us?” I ask Jiggy.
“You don’t trust me loose in Nashville, do you?”
“Not really.”
We load up his stuff and head to Dawson’s. Jiggy takes up residence in the back but makes sure to be extra annoying by leaning on the back of my seat and reading the directions—loudly.
“I didn’t get to see much of Nashville when I was filming Redneck Roadhouse.” Shelby stares out the window. “I hope I can this time.”
Technically we’re headed outside Nashville. Shelby was thrilled by Dawson’s offer to let her stay at his place.
Correction—she’s staying in one of the guest houses on the property.
“Jesus Christ. This has to be a multi-million-dollar estate.” Jiggy whistles as the iron gate swings closed behind us. “Who knew there was so much money in singing about chugging beer and blue balls.”
“Dawson doesn’t have any songs about blue…that.” Shelby waves her hands in the air.
“His songs give me blue balls,” Jiggy explains. “They’re all about the tiny shorts and flirty girls with no payoff.”
I stare at him in the rearview mirror. “You are deeply weird.”
Thankfully, Shelby not only understands, but enjoys Jiggy’s infinite strangeness. “You need the penetration in your lyrics, huh? The release?”
“See,” he sings in my ear. “She gets me.”
“Don’t fret none.” She pats his arm. “I’m gonna make you a playlist for the ride home. You need some Conway Twitty in your life. The man’s got a storage locker full of songs about gettin’ horizontal.”
“I didn’t hear anything past ‘fret none,’ songbird,” he teases. “That time in Texas must’ve gotten under your tongue.”
“I’ll add a little Garth Brooks to your playlist,” she continues, ignoring the dig. “The way y’all were panting after my momma, I think That Summer will totally be your jam.”
“Let’s not encourage him, please,” I warn.
As much I need to get home to check in with Z, and Shelby needs to immerse herself in the songwriting process, I’m not convinced now is the right time to head to New York.
But is it ever a good time to leave your girl?
“No one’s getting in or out of Dawson’s compound.” My gaze roams over the property’s brick and iron fence as we follow the driveway past the main house. “He wasn’t joking.”
We drive around a man-made rock waterfall spilling into a dark blue pool, surrounded by its own separate fence.
“Wow,” Shelby breathes out. “I’ve been thinking of Dawson’s career in terms of the music, fans, and tour but never thought about what that money can actually buy. Dang. Here I thought buying my momma a one-story ranch-style home on a little plot of land would be the pinnacle of success,” she mutters. “And I haven’t even been able to do that yet.”
I hate the note of doubt creeping into her tone. “It’s just stuff, Shelby.”
“He’s one dude,” Jiggy adds. “How does he even enjoy all this?”
“Not our business,” I say. “I just appreciate him offering up the space to Shelby.”
In the mirror, I catch Jiggy’s side-eye.
Finally, the house that Dawson described comes into view. A modern gray fairy-tale cottage with a wrap-around porch and huge windows overlooking the picturesque mountains and waterfalls. It blends into the scenery and matches the main house. I pull the truck into the driveway.
We unload Shelby’s stuff, carrying it into the cottage.
“Damn.” Jigsaw whistles, staring up at the fourteen-foot ceilings. “This is the guest house?”
“Lordy,” Shelby mutters. I take her hand and lead her through the place until we find one of the master bedrooms. “My whole house could fit in this room.” She spins in a slow circle, taking in the balcony overlooking the mountains, the sitting area with its own sofa and television, and the walk-in closet.
Finally, she discovers the bathroom with a long vanity and huge soaking tub. “I don’t think I’ll have to leave this room. I can sit out on that balcony and get plenty of writing done.”
“That’s why you’re here.” I kiss the crown of her head. “No distractions. No worries.”
“Oh good, you’re still vertical,” Jiggy says from the doorway. “I think Dawson’s on his way over.”
“How do you know?” Shelby asks.
“There’s a monitor downstairs.”
I check my phone and find a text from Dawson. “He just wants to show you around.”
She hurries downstairs but Jiggy stops me from following. “You sure you’re all right leaving her here?”
It doesn’t take a genius to understand what he’s worried about but I ask anyway. “What’s your issue?”
“This is heady stuff for a girl who grew up piss-poor.” He glances toward the door. “You know I love Shelby, but—”
Now he’s just pissing me off. “You don’t know dick about her.”
“And you’re sure you do?” He drops his gaze to the floor. “I’m not trying to be an asshole here.”