Wanting Shaw (Rockers' Legacy #5) - Terri Anne Browning
Chapter 1
Shaw
Picking up my water bottle, I took a thirsty swallow before handing it back to my mother. She was my assistant for the day, and I always knew to be on my best behavior when she was standing over me like she was right then.
Dallas Cage was the most beautiful woman I’d ever set eyes on, and I wasn’t just saying that because she was the one to birth me. With her long honey-blond hair, killer body, and badass ink, she looked like she’d just stepped off the cover of some glamorous rocker magazine. Dressed in a pair of hip-hugging jeans and a simple black tank top, she was my definition of perfection in the form of feminine beauty.
But she also had this air of intimidation to her that made people pause and question if they really wanted to approach her. If they really wanted to be on her radar, and if so, how much of her attention they could withstand before they either cried or pissed themselves.
More often than not, Mom was my assistant at fashion shows and photo shoots. I felt at ease when she had my back, and I knew I didn’t have to worry about a single thing as long as she was there. Sure, I had to be a little more polite to people I tended to detest, but at least I didn’t have to deal with the BS some people tried to throw at me when she wasn’t around.
“Two more outfits and then you’re done,” she promised as she recapped the bottle and stepped aside so the makeup artist could touch up my lips.
“I’m starving,” I complained, and I heard the seamstress huff across the room as she got my next outfit ready.
“These people aren’t used to models eating. Otherwise, they would have set up a buffet for us,” Mom grumbled, shooting the woman a glare that had her rushing to finish up before giving me a smile that made her dimple pop. “Don’t worry. Momma will stop at a drive-thru on the way home.”
My stomach growled louder, and I touched my hand to my angry belly before standing from the makeup chair to change into another outfit.
As the seamstress made a few adjustments, basically sewing me into the top, I swiped through my phone to distract myself from how tight the damn thing was. Noticing I had a few missed texts, I opened the first one from my best friend.
Violet had missed school that morning, and I didn’t find out until lunch that it was because she was in freaking Alabama with her boyfriend’s parents, visiting him for the weekend. She’d sent me a picture of Luca and her cuddling, and I shook my head at what a beautiful couple those two made. Luca Thornton was so big, his huge body practically swallowed Vi with his arms around her, but being a defensive player for one of the country’s best college football teams meant he had to keep his muscles in top order or risk falling to second string.
My brother had sent me a text too, reminding me that he was having company for the weekend and to stay out of his way. What he really meant was to stay away from his best friend. My idiot brother might as well have been in love with Jagger with how possessive he was of the guy and their time together.
When we were younger, Cannon always let me hang out with him and his best friend. I went everywhere with them, followed their lead, got into trouble right beside them. But then I had to go and fall for Jagger Armstrong. When my brother realized I had feelings that weren’t exactly sisterly for the guy, he’d put distance between the three of us, refusing to let me spend so much as a few minutes with them these days.
Cannon acted like I was going to infect Jagger if we even breathed the same air. It hurt, but I wasn’t going to let the dumbass bring me down.
Mom pulled the phone from my hands. I pouted up at her, and she rolled her eyes as she placed it in her back pocket. “Work now. Phone later.”
“But I can’t breathe in this damn thing, Mom,” I whined. “At least let me have the phone to distract myself.”
“Maybe if you ate a few more veggies and a lot less trans fat, you wouldn’t—”
The seamstress didn’t finish what she was saying because my mother was in her face. “Do you