clears his throat in a particularly loud, obnoxious way.
Shelby releases me. “I’m happy you and Dex are here too, Jiggy.”
“Thank you, darlin’.”
She giggles at his attempted southern accent, then turns serious. “I mean it. I’m sure you have better things to do. And I know you hate the music. I don’t want to take advantage of—”
“Don’t sweat it, Shelby.” Jigsaw grips my shoulder gives me a shake. “I always got his back.” He shrugs. “Besides, hate’s a strong word. I never appreciated country music before.”
“Don’t let him fool you, Shelby,” Dex says. “He’s here to lure desperate girls into the shadows.”
“That’s hella creepy,” Shelby says.
“For a mutually pleasurable good time.” Jigsaw glares at Dex. “Stop making me sound like a serial killer.”
“Eh.” Dex wobbles his hand in the air and Jiggy smacks it away.
Greg returns in a calmer mood. He hands passes out to the four of us, then hands me two extras without comment.
“You guys can go check out the fair,” Shelby says.
I’m shaking my head before she even finishes the offer.
She curls her finger, inviting me to dip down closer. “I need to change and get my hair and makeup done. I assume your brothers won’t find that as entertaining as you do.”
She has a point.
“Seriously, go ahead,” she encourages. “I’d say bring me back some cotton candy but I can’t have the sugar before I go onstage.”
“Is there anything you do want?”
She casts a longing gaze toward the fairgrounds. “Nothing that’s good for me.”
I confirm the time of the meet and greet with Greg, then lean down and press a kiss to Shelby’s forehead. “Text me if you need anything.”
“Thank you.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Jigsaw asks as we’re leaving the music center. “Take a few spins on the merry-go-round?”
“I’m gonna spin you around with my fist if you keep running your mouth,” I threaten.
“So testy.” He shoves me to the side.
“Feel free to be the creepy adult on the rides by himself, Jiggy.” Dex points toward a row of brown shacks straight ahead. “I’m going to grab some Dinosaur Bar-B-Que.”
Jigsaw searches the line of food trucks. “Sparky said there should be a chicken and waffle pizza at one of these places.”
“Sounds like Sparky,” Dex says.
I clutch my stomach. “That’s disgusting.”
“Don’t go yucking someone’s yum.” Dex smacks me on the back.
“Whatever.”
As we shoulder our way through the crowd of fairgoers, one small white tent catches my attention. “Give me a minute. I’ll catch up.” I slap Dex’s shoulder to get his attention.
Unfortunately, they both follow me into the tent.
“Since when are you into all this hippie shit?” Jigsaw casts a look at the incense, candles, bells, soaps, scarves, tapestries, and embroidered wall-hangings. “This place looks like the inside of Sparky’s head.”
“Shut up.” My gaze lands on the jewelry case and I step up, not quite sure what I’m searching for.
“Can I help you?” a soft voice asks from behind a wall of scarves. A few seconds later, an older woman pushes her way through. She doesn’t even blink at the three giant bikers taking up all the available space in her little tent shop.
Shit, I don’t know what Shelby likes. She doesn’t even wear a lot of jewelry. “Do you have tarot cards?” No, that’s stupid. Shelby already has a deck of them. Does she need another one? I’d probably get the wrong kind.
“Not here,” she says. “Are you looking for your girlfriend?”
It doesn’t exactly take a clairvoyant to tell I don’t belong here, so her question doesn’t shock me. “Yes.”
“She reads tarot?”
“I think so,” I answer, painfully aware my brothers are so damn close to this conversation.
“What about crystals?” she asks.
“Uh, I think she has a purple one.”
“What does she do?”
“She’s a singer.”
Her lips curve into a smile. “A free, creative spirit?”
“Sort of. She works hard though. Dedicated.”
She runs her hand over the glass counter slowly. Back and forth. “Much judgment and stress in her world.”
I think about the article Shelby showed me. “Yeah.”
She reaches into the case and pulls out a long, clear stone suspended from a purple silk cord. It’s simple but pretty. “Clear quartz. To absorb negativity and bring harmony. It also has many healing properties.”
“That’s one hell of a multi-tasking rock.” Jigsaw scoffs.
I glare at him and he grins.
“Bro, come on. It’s probably a hunk of melted glass,” Jigsaw says.
“Would you shut up?” Dex slaps Jiggy’s shoulder and pushes him toward the front of the tent.
The owner casts a look that drills home the meaning of evil eye Jigsaw’s way, wiping