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“Hey!” My protest is swallowed up and negated by my laughter.
He shifts me to the side and pulls my legs up, draping them over him while keeping a firm hold on my outer thigh.
“That’s better.” He leans in and brushes a kiss over my cheek, his beard lightly tickling my skin.
“This is nice,” I murmur, resting my head on his shoulder.
He curls his other arm around my body, hugging me to him. It’s a sweet, quiet moment that does more to settle my nervous heart and mind than any of my pre-show rituals.
“I could get used to this,” I mutter.
“Yeah?” he rumbles.
Dang, I need to glue my mouth shut. He’s going to think I’m begging him to come out on the road with me.
Someone knocks on the door, and I shoot straight up. There’s no time to scoot out of Rooster’s lap, though. Cindy enters and holds up her makeup case. “Ready for me, Shelby?”
Her steps falter as her gaze lands on Rooster.
I scramble to sit upright, bracing my hand on Rooster’s incredibly firm chest.
“I’ll give you a minute, hon.” She backs out the door. “I forgot my curling iron.”
I open my mouth to stop her but she’s gone.
“Fun’s about to start.” I turn to face Rooster. His neutral expression gives nothing away. “How do you want me to introduce you to people? Do you want me to use your road name with non-bikers? Should I?”
He tilts his head and reaches up to tug on the end of my ponytail. “Logan’s fine.”
“I should’ve asked you that sooner, huh?” I rub my palm over his bristly cheek.
“You have enough to worry about.” His eyes close and he leans into my touch. “I’m fine either way.”
A rush of emotion floods through me, and I wrap my arms around him tight for one last squeeze before scooting off his lap.
He hooks his fingers around mine, loosely tugging. “You okay?”
“I think so. Sure you won’t be bored watching me get all dolled up?”
“Nope.”
“I’m back!” Cindy thrusts her curling iron in the air with a triumphant smile as she pushes into the room.
“Oh, Cindy, this is my friend Logan.” I squeeze Rooster’s hand quickly before letting go and moving to the makeup chair. “Logan, this is Cindy. She’s a magical artist.”
Cindy scoffs. “You don’t even need makeup. Nice to meet you, Logan.”
I can’t remember anyone besides my mother, Greg, Trent, or someone from the band watching me get ready before. Certainly not a boyfriend.
Not that Rooster’s my boyfriend, of course.
I cast a furtive glance his way, expecting to find him on his phone. But no, his gaze is strictly fixed on me. My cheeks heat and I face straight ahead, staring into the mirror.
“What are we doing tonight?” Cindy asks as she loosens my ponytail. “Up or down?”
“Down, maybe? I’m wearing the strapless blue dress. I think I’ll feel too naked with my hair up. Or like it’s prom.”
Cindy chuckles and leans over to plug in the curling iron. She pauses at my tank top. “Do you want to change into a button-up?”
“Nah, I’ll be careful.”
She clips a short cape around my shoulders and starts dotting primer over my face.
“The hospitality room’s all set up next door, Logan,” Cindy says, “if you’re bored.”
“I’m fine.” He sits forward, coming into view in the mirror. “You need water or something, Shelby?”
My cheeks heat again. This request will make me sound like such a precious little princess. “They should have room temperature water. And tea. Decaf and a slice of lemon. If there’s a packet of honey, can you grab that too? Just don’t put it in the tea.”
He stands. “Room temp water. Decaf tea, lemon slice, honey packet. Got it.” He gently squeezes my shoulder as he passes. “Cindy?”
“I’m good. Thank you.”
In the mirror, I catch her eyes following him. As soon as the door closes, she blinks rapidly and grasps my shoulders. “Quick! Tell me all about him. Is he your boyfriend? This the guy you’ve been texting?”
The corners of my mouth twitch up and I drop my gaze to my hands in my lap. “That’s him.”
“Good lord, he’s hot, Shelby.”
“I know.”
Her gaze slides to the door again. “So polite for a biker too.”
Something about the comment rubs me wrong. Sure, they look rough around the edges, but Rooster’s biker brothers have always been kind to me. “Bikers are nice. One of his brothers gave me the shirt off his back when I almost drowned.”
While she bends and preps the set of false eyelashes she’s about to apply, I tell her the story of how Rooster and I met.
“So romantic. Oh my God!” she yelps. “‘White Knight!’ That’s about him?”
I chuckle. “Yeah, kinda.”
The door clicks open, cutting off our conversation. Rooster pushes into the room, casting a smile our way. Resourceful as I remember, he seems to have fashioned a tray out of a cardboard box. Carefully, he sets my drinks on the counter in front of me. “Brought you water too, Cindy.” He sets the extra bottle next to everything else.
