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Touched he remembered what I’d said about my voice, I nod and take his hand. Two younger bikers hold the front doors open for us. The cool wash of night air slips over my skin and I inhale deeply.
“They have some tables and stuff set up around back,” Rooster says. Our boots crunch over the gravel. Voices carry through the night. The bright orange glow of a fire lights what looks like a picnic area. We climb up on a wooden table near the trees and I lean on my hands to stare at the sky. “I don’t want this night to end.” I turn and stare at Rooster. “Is that selfish?”
“If it is, then I’m selfish too.” He kisses my cheek. “We can stay here or grab a room at the hotel your crew’s staying at. Up to you.”
While I’m enjoying our time here, I won’t be able to sleep if I’m worried I’ll be late tomorrow. “Hotel. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Let’s go.” He jumps off the table, boots rustling the grass, and holds out his hand. “I need to say good night to Chaser. And I’ll give Jiggy and Dex the option to come with us—and get their own rooms.”
“Shoot. I feel bad making them spend extra money—”
He presses a finger to my lips. “Dex is always up for a road trip. Jigsaw’s up for anything—if you hadn’t noticed. Don’t sweat it.”
Inside the clubhouse, Rooster wastes no time locating Chaser and Mallory.
One corner of Chaser’s mouth hitches up as we approach. “Headin’ out?”
Rooster squeezes my hand. “Yeah, she’s rolling out early.”
“I remember those days.” Chaser nods at me. “Thanks for coming.”
“Sure.” My tongue’s all tangled. “Thanks for havin’ me.”
“Anytime, Shelby,” Mallory says.
Chaser holds out his hand and pulls Rooster in, slapping his back. “Good to see you, brother. Don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t,” Rooster promises.
“And tell Z to get his ass out here.” He snaps his fingers. “We’re doing a big thing for our thirtieth in a couple months. You’ll have to come.”
Mallory’s face brightens. She clasps her hands together. “I already talked to Hope and Lilly about it a little while ago. We’ll send official invites soon.” She squeezes my hand. “Of course, you’re also welcome to come, Shelby.”
She sounds awfully confident Rooster and I will still be together in a few months. “Thank you.”
Rooster curls his arm around my waist without hesitation. “Thanks, Mallory.”
“If you can…with your schedule,” she adds. “I know how hard it is when you’re on the road so much.”
After a few more pleasantries, we say good night. Rooster searches the club but can’t find Jigsaw or Dex.
“I’ll text them. Let’s go.”
In the truck, he pulls out his phone.
“You guys really look out for each other, don’t ya?” I ask.
“Leave no man behind. I just want to hear back from one of them before we leave.”
“Sure thing.” I slip my phone free of my pocket and scroll through my emails. One subject stands out.
WILL YOU MARRY ME?
I click on it.
Dear Shelby,
Roses are red, violets are blue,
I really want to marry you.
Tomorrow night would be better,
For us to get together.
You’ll always be mine.
I promise you, the sex will be fine.
Please say yes.
Don’t respond with rejection.
You don’t want to miss out on my massive erection.
Love, Floyd. 937-555-9375
“Eww!” I click delete but scrubbing my brain of that creep-tastic poem won’t be as easy.
“What’s wrong?” Rooster asks.
“Nothing. Just some creepy fan mail. I’ll never understand why they think being gross will work.”
His face pulls into a frown. “Gross how?”
I retrieve the email from my trash folder and show it to him.
“What the fuck? You’ve gotten more messages like this?”
“All the time.” I squint at him. “Me and every other female who has a social media account. At least there’s no dick pic attached this time.”
“What?”
“How can you be so unaware?”
“I assure you, never in my twenty-eight years has it occurred to me to send a picture of my dick to a stranger.”
Something about his serious tone sends me into a fit of giggles. “So, you send them to your friends?”
“No.” He glances at my phone again and taps the screen.
“What are you doing?”
“Forwarding that to my account.”
“What? Why?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Rooster!” I lunge to his side of the truck, grabbing for my phone. “Give me that.”
“Here.” He hands it over. “All done.”
“You can’t go harassing my fans.”
“That’s not a fan. That’s a creep who needs to learn some manners.”
“He’s not the only one,” I grumble. I open my Instagram account. Takes less than a second to find some perv’s comment on my most recent post.
“Shelby,” I read out loud. “I bet you’d ride my face like a mechanical bull. What do ya say? Cowgirl up?” I click my phone screen off, in case Rooster gets any ideas. “You can’t go after all of them, Rooster.”
“That’s fucking bullshit.”
