place?” I whisper once we’re alone in the mirrored elevator.
“The magic of the Internet?” He shrugs. “We don’t have much time together. I wanted to take you someplace nice.”
My pulse pounds harder. I open my mouth but the words in my heart stick in my throat. “You’ve never really told me what you do,” I say instead.
The elevator chimes and the doors open. Our floor has thick carpet that mutes our steps. We’re not far from the elevator when Rooster stops and slides the key card into the panel on the door.
“To afford a place like this,” I continue.
“I’m a simple man, Shelby. If I was by myself, I’d probably camp outside or check into the first place I saw.”
I shudder at the word camping. “Humans evolved for a reason, ya know. Sleeping outside is like flippin’ off all our ancestors who busted their butts to learn how to build houses and stuff.”
He roars with laughter. “You like nature. I’ve taken you to a few bonfires.”
“Yeah, bonfires near a dwelling with indoor plumbing.”
He chuckles and hooks his arm over my shoulders. The room’s even nicer than I expected. A wall of windows looks out over the harbor, and I’m instantly drawn to it. Rooster flicks on the lamps, and in the glass I follow his reflection as he pulls out his phone, and taps out a message or two.
“Rooster?”
He glances up and flicks his phone off. “Sorry, I wanted to send that video to your mom before I forgot.”
Dang.
My heart pounds for different reasons. First, that he’s so sweet he remembered to film me singing with Dawson, knowing that my mom would want to see the clip. Second, now she’ll know Rooster’s visiting me on the road and I can—
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Expect a call from her any second.
“Guess she got the video,” I mumble.
He chuckles and drops into one of the chairs to unlace his boots.
“Hey, Momma,” I answer. What are the odds she’ll be happy I’m with a man who’s worried about sending her videos? Every other boyfriend I’ve had acted like I hatched from an egg.
“Why is Rooster still on tour with you?”
“Hello, to you too.” While the room’s all kinds of fancy—from the plush carpet to the television that raises out of a platform at the end of the bed—it doesn’t offer enough privacy for this phone call.
I wander down the line of windows until I’m in the opposite corner from Rooster.
“Don’t sass me,” she says.
I turn so I’m facing the wall and lower my voice. “He wasn’t far from this show and came to visit me, that’s all.”
“Shelby.” She sighs. “We talked about this.”
“No, you talked. I listened.” I lower my voice. “Then I followed my heart.”
“Hearts are foolish. Listen to your head like I taught you.”
“Well, my head’s thinking, my momma oughtta be a little more grateful someone even thought to take a video and remembered to send it without me even asking.” Each word shoots out of my mouth like a bullet.
She’s silent. Holy hell, did I finally win an argument with my mother?
“That was nice of him,” she concedes. “I sent a thank you.”
“Good. Now let me tell you my news.”
“What?”
“Dawson asked if I’d like to record a song with him when we’re done with the tour.”
“Oh, Shelby! That’s wonderful.” In a lower voice, she adds, “I see the gossip sites are trying to link you two romantically.”
“Shoot. Really?”
“Shelby, you’re not…are you?”
“No. Jeez.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing. Look what he did for Glenna Wilson’s career.”
I pull the phone away and stare at it for a second. Did she really just say that? “Are you drunk? I wouldn’t sleep with that producer to win Roadhouse. Why the fuck would I do it now?”
“Shelby! Language!”
“Fuck that. I can’t believe you’d even suggest—”
“I was kidding. Calm down.”
Kidding my ass.
“I need to go. Rooster and I have plans.”
She sighs. “Please. Guard your heart.”
“You’re the only one hurting my heart right now.”
“Don’t say that. You know I love you.”
“Yeah, I know. Night, Momma.”
I click the end call button and contemplate tossing my phone out the window.
Expecting to find Rooster still across the room, I force a smile on my face and spin around.
He’s right in front of me.
I jolt back a step.
In his plain black T-shirt, jeans and bare feet, he’s absolutely mouthwatering.
My gaze travels up to his face again.
He’s not smiling.
And those aren’t his smoldering “I want to eat your pussy” eyes either.