Rhythm of the Road - Autumn Jones Lake Page 0,57

as pleasant and humorous as yours, right?”

That wipes the smile off Jiggy’s face. Yeah, he’s an asshole but he’s not completely insensitive.

Trinity raises her hand. “Mom’s bed with her thirty-five-year-old boyfriend when I was thirteen.”

Wrath squeezes her to his side and whispers something in her ear.

“Fuck,” Jigsaw mutters. “Where’s that dirtbag now?”

Rock’s the one who answers, “In the ground where he belongs.”

And that closes the coffin lid on that conversation.

“Football’s big in Texas, right, Shelby?” Sparky asks, smoothing over the awkward moment.

“Practically a religion.”

“Do you even know which one football is, Sparky?” Ravage asks.

“Yeah. There’s a ball.” Sparky’s indignant tone cracks us all up.

“Were you a cheerleader?” Jigsaw asks Shelby. “I bet you were. You have that cheerleader look.”

“Nope.” She shakes her head, blond curls flying around. “Couldn’t afford to buy a hummingbird on a string for a nickel, let alone those cute little cheerleader outfits. Besides, I was too busy workin’ and singin’ where I could.” She points her soda can at Jiggy. “I did sing the national anthem at several games, though.”

“How long are you on this current tour, Shelby?” Z asks.

She hesitates and darts a nervous look my way before answering. “Couple more months. Then I’m supposed to go into the studio. After that, my manager’s trying to get me on another tour.”

All those plans are news to me.

Doesn’t really matter, though. Shelby’s given me the green light to visit her while she’s on tour and I plan to take advantage of it as often as possible.

“With the same old dude?” Jigsaw asks.

“Dawson’s only thirty-eight,” Shelby says. “That’s not old.”

“Thank you, Shelby,” Z says.

Rock and Wrath both chuckle. Steer lobs a pine cone at Jigsaw’s head. I’m not even sure if Jigsaw realizes he just insulted half the club’s officers. On the other hand, I don’t care for Shelby sticking up for Dawson in any capacity.

“Anyway, no. Greg’s lookin’ into other options.” She shrugs. “I’ve got my bucket list of artists I’d like to tour with. Hoping he starts there.”

As much as I want her to achieve all her goals, I can’t deny how much I love having her right here with me.

I glance over at Shelby wishing like hell I had more to offer her.

While tonight’s been fun, even I have to admit, bonfires in the boonies with my club pales in comparison to touring the country and being on stage every night.

Shelby’s on her way to becoming a star. But the best nights I have to offer her are around a campfire under the stars.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Rooster

The next morning, much sooner than I’d like, I’m watching Shelby pack up her stuff and helping her carry it all downstairs.

“I feel bad you can’t ride,” she says, staring at the truck.

“I’ll live.” I glance down at her bare legs and tiny denim shorts. “Looking over at your sexy legs for the next couple hours helps a lot.”

She wiggles her eyebrows and prances over to the truck, putting on a good show of climbing on the running board and bending over to “fix” stuff in the backseat.

I walk up behind her and run my hands from her thighs to her hips. “Why you trying to tease me? Hmm?”

“You two planning to go at it right here in the parking lot?” Jigsaw calls out.

I squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten before flipping him off.

“Those are some mighty fine shorts, Shelby,” Jigsaw says, “Always had a thing for daisy dukes.”

I stare him down. “Do you want to die? Painfully?”

“Thank you, Jigsaw.” Shelby turns and jumps off the truck, her boots crunching against the gravel.

My best friend will be begging for death if he keeps staring at her tits like he’s some damn homeless street dog.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” I reach out and smack him upside the head.

“Paying the lady a compliment. Is that so wrong?”

“The compliment was lovely. I think it’s you droolin’ over my tits that’s gettin’ Rooster all peeved,” Shelby drawls. She cups her chest and stares down. “I know they’re fabulous, but have a little respect.”

Jigsaw’s mouth twists with amusement. “I like her.”

“Get out of here.” I shove him toward his bike and he laughs the whole way.

“You two really are like brothers,” Shelby says.

“He certainly works my last nerve like a little brother.”

Dex pops out of the garage for a last-minute review of the directions. At least he’s nothing but respectful to Shelby.

Once we’re on the Thruway headed west, Jigsaw and Dex pull in front of me.

Shelby’s been quiet for a few miles.

“You all

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