of the San Antonio River. Shelby’s mom catching us in the shower and wondering if I was about to get a shotgun blast to the chest…all of it.
She’s embellished the song, added to it since the first time she played it in Texas. It’s much more polished now. Again, I’m in awe of this woman. Her talent, sweetness, and beauty smack me in the face every time I’m around her.
“This is already tearing up the charts,” Greg says. “We stopped and recorded it in Tennessee. I was able to get special placement on a few of the streaming services.”
“That’s good.” Now, shut up, Greg.
Uncomfortable, since she’s singing about me and I’m the farthest thing from a white knight, I focus on the audience. The seats aren’t filled yet but the people who are here appear to be huge Shelby Morgan fans. She keeps saying she’s just the opening act, downplaying her role on this tour. Or maybe it’s hard for Shelby to see it from the inside. But she’s a way bigger deal than she realizes.
My gaze strays to a guy hanging over the balcony with a huge, “Will you marry me, Shelby Morgan?” sign.
No, she won’t, asshole.
She’s mine.
At least for the next two days.
I don’t want to think about what happens after we have to say goodbye.
Chapter Ten
Shelby
“Phew!” I hurry off the stage and grab the towel Greg hands me, quickly dabbing beads of sweat from my forehead. All the stage makeup feels heavier than ever and I wish I could wash it off now instead of sitting through the next band’s set while I wait to go onstage with Dawson.
Holy shit, I’m going to sing with Dawson Roads!
I turn, scanning the area for Rooster. The man must be my good-luck charm. This is the first night of the tour Dawson’s asked me to sing with him. And Rooster’s here to see one of the biggest moments of my life.
Lordy, I better not screw it up.
My heart skips when I find him leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.
Did I freak him out by playing “White Knight?” I didn’t mention him by name, but he knows the song is about him. Is he mad I played it since his club brothers are out in the audience tonight? Will they razz him about it later? Maybe he’s embarrassed that some silly girl wrote a corny country song about him.
As I’m spiraling into my freak-out, he pushes away from the wall and through the crush of people around us. “You were phenomenal.”
Before I have a chance to answer, he picks me up and plants a kiss on my lips.
Manager, band—heck, everything around us is forgotten the second our mouths meet. I keep my eyes open, staring straight into his. I’m consumed by the taste and feel of him. Reckless, I close my eyes and deepen our kiss, unconcerned that we’re making out backstage where lots of spectators are sure to get an eyeful.
People will talk. Pictures could be taken.
Next to us, someone clears their throat.
I fight my way through a fog of lust back to hard reality.
When I pull away, Rooster’s face is fierce, hot, and primal, reflecting the desires at war inside me.
He sets me down gently but keeps an arm around my waist.
Greg’s disapproving manager face is a bucket of ice water down my dress.
“Shelby, you need to get ready for the duet with Dawson.” Although he doesn’t scold me for the public display of affection, his stern tone conveys the gist of his feelings on the matter.
“I have plenty of time. Gonna take at least thirty minutes before Thundersmoke goes onstage. Their set’s about forty-five minutes. Another half hour to set up for Dawson…”
“Don’t blow this, Shelby.”
“I won’t,” I insist, annoyed he thinks I’d squander the opportunity.
Rooster remains surprisingly quiet during our exchange. Once I’ve made it clear to Greg that I have plans, I tug on Rooster’s hand and lead him back to my dressing room.
“I’m so sorry. I originally wanted to leave with you after my set. I never expected…”
“It’s fine, Shelby.” He settles his hands on my hips and presses my back against the door.
I peer up at him. “Were you mad?”
“Mad?” He frowns, his gaze darting from side to side. “About what?”
“‘White Knight?’ What I said? Your brothers—”
“I couldn’t give a fuck what they think.” He strokes his knuckles over my cheek. “You were sunshine lighting up that stage. I’m so impressed with how much you’ve changed since the Tipsy Saddle.”