And he doesn’t need an army
To save you from drowning
In three feet of water…”
Chapter Fifteen
Rooster
With all the noise and the shitty speakers, it’s been harder than hell to make out any of the words Shelby’s sung tonight.
Something about this new song she’s singing, though, has me pushing through the crowd to get closer.
I definitely pick out the word Harley and close my eyes to concentrate on the rest.
* * *
Soon I’ll be singing in a different town.
And you’ll give some other girl your crown.
* * *
Replace crown with cock and I’m pretty sure she’s singing about us. Did I really inspire her that much? Or am I reading more into it? Have I lost my motherfucking mind?
Jigsaw slaps my shoulder. “Are you sleeping through her song?”
“No, asshole,” I growl, annoyed I missed a couple of words.
He jerks his chin toward the stage. “She’s so fucking hot. I get why you’re torqued up over her, brother.”
“Thanks. I’ve been dying for your approval.”
Shelby starts in on the chorus again, and I elbow Jigsaw. “Shut up.”
* * *
“Sometimes your white knight rides a Harley
He doesn’t need an army
To save you from drowning
In three feet of water…”
* * *
“Holy fuck!” Jigsaw doubles over laughing. “That’s you. She wrote a song about you.” He straightens up and pretends to be serious. “I’ll cover you if you want to make a run for it.”
“Fuck off. I’m not going anywhere.”
* * *
“I knew I was in danger
Of losing my heart to a stranger.”
* * *
Maybe I’m more than just a fuck after all.
Jigsaw’s too annoying to concentrate on the song any longer. The audience is getting rowdier, too. We sway with every push and two-step of the crowd.
Shelby finishes our song with her eyes closed and a smile on her face. Can’t help but notice her expression is similar to how she looks after I make her come.
Now I can’t stop thinking about her sweet naked body.
The band kicks into a livelier song that makes the crowd holler and move even faster. Who knew country fans were so excitable? We’re packed in like sardines, so I go along for the ride.
How does Shelby do this every week? Does she play other local bars? I glance around the bar. Still seems to be no security or anyone watching over the place. Who protects her from these idiots if they get out of hand?
Her guitarist rattles off the name of another song, but I’m too focused on a group of guys clustered to the side of the stage who seem to be ducking and laughing every time Shelby turns away from them.
“What the fuck are they up to?” I slap Jigsaw to get his attention off the brunette in front of us whose tits are two hoedown throwdown steps away from jiggling out of her top.
“Huh? Who?”
“The bros up front.” I grab his head and turn it to the left.
He stares at them for a few seconds before unleashing a vicious growl. “Assholes.” He shakes me off and pushes harder through the crowd.
“What?”
“Pretty sure they’re trying to take some upskirt photos of your girl,” he answers, without taking his eyes off his future punching bags.
Jiggy may be a perverted asshole ninety-five percent of the time, but even he has lines that shouldn’t be crossed.
I watch the guys closer, taking in Shelby’s guarded expression and the way she’s now avoiding that side of the stage.
Jigsaw better step aside. I’m about to fuck up some assholes for trying to take advantage of my girl.
Chapter Sixteen
Shelby
Sweat’s pouring down my face by the time we finish Big Lies—my favorite of the new songs I’d written while on Redneck Roadhouse. Thank the Lord for stage makeup. I survived playing White Knight by keeping my gaze far away from Rooster’s side of the bar. The couple songs we played afterward took my anxiety away, but now, it returns with a vengeance.
What if Rooster left?
“Good job!” Trent shouts as the lights fade. He high-fives the rest of the band.
“Tonight was a good one, right?” I laugh and hug him, allowing him to pick me up for a quick spin around the stage.
He sets me down and kisses my cheek. “Gonna make sure the guys get paid.” He glances at the crowd. “You okay out here?”
“I’ll be fine. Go on.” I pat his shoulder. “Thank you.”
As soon as the guys leave, people rush and push to get closer to me. I don’t know if it’s the radio coverage the show was given or something else, but the simple barrier the club uses to keep some space between the floor and the stage isn’t strong enough to keep the audience back tonight.
My blood spikes with fear. More than the anxiety of Rooster hearing my song. My gaze darts toward the bar, but I don’t see him. Still blinded from the show, I can’t see much besides darkness, dots of light and a hoard of people coming for me.
“Shelby! I love you!” A kid close to my age shouts. He shoves something in my face, and I back away so quickly, I trip, landing hard on my ass. My dress pools around my hips. Booty shorts or not, I hurry to push it down and cover myself.
Maybe they don’t see me sprawled on the floor or maybe they don’t care, but the crowd keeps coming, A sea of boots and jeans threaten to drown me. Or stomp me to death.
I search for anything to grab onto, trying to right myself, but keep getting knocked right back down.
The guy who’d startled me bends down, hand outstretched. But, instead of attempting to help me, he runs his hands up my bare legs and under my dress.
I shudder with revulsion at the unwanted grope.
“Get off me!” I pull my legs back and launch both my snip-toe cowboy booted feet forward as hard as I can, hitting him square in his chest—heels first. “Fucker.”
He reels back, then rights himself and lunges again. I desperately search for something to whack him with. My mic stand’s just out of reach.
Suddenly, the crowd parts. The guy who touched me sails through the air, crashing into a nearby table. Wood clatters to the floor and glass shatters against the wall.
“Motherfucker!”
I recognize that rage-filled, growly voice.
“Rooster!” I yelp.
Fury twists his features when he spots me on the floor. He easily bends down and plucks me off the ground. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” I wrap my arms around his neck and cling to him. Now that I know I’m safe, the fear and indignation evaporates but leaves my entire body shaking.
And I have no doubt I’m safe. Murphy and Jigsaw are busy throwing punches at the frat boys who kept trying to take pictures up my dress during the show. Sparky and another biker wearing the same patches as Rooster are shoving people out of our way.
Heidi’s sitting cross-legged on top of the bar, holding what I’m pretty sure is a ballpeen hammer in her hands. She grins when she sees me but stays put. Rooster sets me on the bar next to her.
“You all right?” he shouts.
“Yeah.” My mouth twists. “Shit. My mic is on stage. It’s actually mine. Not the bar’s. It cost me a fortune.”
“I’ll get it.” His gaze swings to Heidi. “Stay with Heidi.”
“Okay.” I tug on his hand before he returns to the mayhem of the crowded bar. “Thank you.”
“You got it. Stay here,” he reminds me.
Heidi wraps an arm around my shoulders. “You’re amazing! Your voice is beautiful.” She reaches behind her and hands me a bottle of water. “Bet you’re parched.”
“Yeah.” I take a long swallow before capping it and setting it next to me.
“Girl, this is wild,” Heidi says. “Does this happen ever
y night?”
“Not this bad.” I glance at the hammer in her hands. “Planning to do some remodeling?”
She gives me a sly grin. “Murphy set me on the bar, gave me the hammer, and told me to stay put. Anyone who bothers me is getting bopped on the head.” She taps the air with the hammer to demonstrate.
“Aren’t you tougher than a pine knot,” I mutter, impressed that none of this seems to ruffle her feathers. And that her boyfriend apparently doesn’t leave home without a hammer to use as a weapon in case they encounter a little mayhem.
“He wanted to stay with me.” Heidi waves her hands at the stage. “But I’m fine. Looked like you needed the help.”
“Yeah.” I glance around for our bartender, Sherry, but she’s nowhere to be found. “Shit, Sherry’s probably calling the cops.”
As the word cops leaves my lips, Heidi gracefully stands on top of the bar and whistles an ear-splitting sound to get Murphy’s attention. She makes a few hand signals that must be code for “Police are on the way!” Murphy taps Jigsaw’s shoulder and says a few words against his ear. Jigsaw whistles and signals to the others. A few seconds later, all five bikers slowly back out of the chaos and return to us at the bar.
Sherry reappears.
With a shotgun in her hands.
She aims at the ceiling and fires. A deafening blast that puts an abrupt end to the fighting. Chunks of wood spray down over the center of the bar.
Rooster slips his arm around me. “Where was she ten minutes ago?” he mutters.
I can’t help it. Maybe it’s the fear or adrenaline, but I press my palms against his face and yank him down for a kiss.
“Thank you,” I whisper against his lips.
“Thank me later when I get you out of here before the cops show up.” He pulls back a few inches. “You’re trouble, little darlin’.”
He’s teasing, but I melt against him anyway. In his arms, I know I’m safe.
He eyes Sherry who’s still holding the shotgun. “I think she’s got it under control.” He turns to his brothers. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Seventeen
Rooster
Another night and I find myself on an excruciating ride back to Shelby’s place. Maybe I should just start paying her mom rent.
Except, tonight I’m not planning to stay long. She’s coming with me. After that shitshow at the Tipsy Saddle, I won’t let her wander far from my sight. In fact, I follow her right into her bedroom.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
“I can never eat after a show, I’m still too jittery and wound up.”
Makes sense.
“So.” My lips twitch as I draw out the word. “I’ve never been accused of being someone’s White Knight before.”
Shelby stops and turns, wide eyes blinking. A sweet shade of red spreads over her cheeks and down her chest. “What?”
“Your song.”
She lowers her gaze. “I was hoping you couldn’t make out the words.”
“Why? I’m more worried you’ll tell people it’s about me, and they won’t believe it.”
“Are you kidding?” She steps closer. “You may come in denim and leather instead of shining armor, but you’ve rescued me twice now. Three times if you count chasing Brad away from my door this morning.”
“Saw that kick you landed on that one fool’s chest.” I push her hair back off her cheek. “So, I’m not sure you needed the rescue, but I’m damn glad I was there.”
“Me too.”
My hand drops to her shoulder, and I skim the strap of her dress with my fingers. “This is pretty.”
“My mama made it.”
Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. It fits Shelby’s curves and personality.
She twists her fingers in the fabric swirling around her legs. “There’s a secret to it.”
“To what?” I’m too focused on the bits of bare leg she’s revealing as she lifts the material.
“Matching shorts.” She flips the skirt up, revealing a pair of tight little shorts the same shade of blue-green as the flowers scattered all over the dress.
I run my hand over my beard as I take her in.
“Jackasses trying to take pictures up my dress is nothing new,” she explains.
Instantly, my lust flips to rage. “Those motherfuckers. I didn’t punch them nearly enough.”
“You punched them?”
“Fuck yeah, I did. The ones I didn’t get, Jiggy handled.”
“I’m sorry your brothers had to get involved in my mess.”
“They’ve always got my back. No matter what.”
She reaches for my hands, turning them over to inspect my scraped knuckles. “You should let me put ice on ’em.”
“I had something more healing in mind.”
“Like what?” Her question comes out coy.
I brush my bruised knuckles over her shoulder. “Like soft skin and that honey voice of yours.”
“Honey, huh?”
“Smooth and sweet.”
“You’re smooth and sweet.”
I clutch my chest and throw my head back. “You’re killing me, woman.”
She turns and sweeps her hair into a ponytail. “Will you unzip my dress?”
“With pleasure.” As if I’d say no to undressing this beautiful woman. My fingers graze the zipper, and I pause, inspired by a better idea. “Place your hands on the bed.” The way she doesn’t hesitate or question me does wonders for my already enormous ego.
I step closer and trail my fingers over the backs of her thighs, lifting her dress as I go, uncovering the surprise underneath. “These are cute.”
Instead of answering, she wiggles her butt.
“Want me to take them off?”
“If you want to,” she whispers.
I smack her ass hard enough to make her gasp. “What do you want?”
Her body tightens up against me. I slide my hand between her thighs, exploring the damp satin material clinging to her pussy. “You’re soaked.”
“I’m all sweaty.”
“I don’t think that’s sweat.”
“Oh!” she gasps, as I slide my fingers over her clit.
Even with the thin material in the way, I keep my touch light. Slowly stroking until her hips move in time with me. “That’s it,” I encourage.
“Rooster,” she whispers.
Before answering, I hook my fingers in her underwear and drag them down her legs, stopping along the way to kiss the small of her back, each butt cheek and the backs of her thighs.
“You’re so damn pretty.” I kiss her soft skin in between words. “The way you worked that stage was something else.” Having her bent over in front of me has my dick ready to tear through my jeans.
She snorts into the sheets. “It’s nothing but a little bar.”
I smack her ass again. “Doesn’t matter. Any fool can see you’re destined for bigger things.”
This time, she has no sassy comeback. She’s too busy moaning and panting as I slide my fingers up her thigh and through the soft, wet flesh between her legs. The ferocious need to be inside her practically blinds me.
Chapter Eighteen
Shelby
My mind’s gone. I’m usually wound up after a show and can’t sit still, but with Rooster’s fingers sliding back and forth between my legs, I’m practically melting into my mattress.
“Please don’t stop.”
“I have no intention of stopping.”
I love the gruff but reassuring tone he uses with me. His fingers haven’t stopped moving, the heat he’s creating down there continues to build. Air bursts past my lips as he slips one finger all the way inside, curling and stroking until my body clenches tight. Molten-hot pleasure shoots through me. My heart beats hummingbird fast. I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on. How is he still so calm and in control?
My toes curl in my boots, and I squeeze my eyes shut, desperately trying to leap onto the freight train of pleasure barreling down on me. Hea
t races over my skin.
“Will you come for me, Shelby?” His whispered question holds a note of teasing. “Come all over my hand for me.”
The pressure inside me breaks as I finally let go. Quivering heat crashes through me, leaving me breathless and my legs shaking so hard I can barely stand. He slips his fingers out of me but stays pressed against my body.
There’s a crinkling sound. His body shifts. The rough fabric of his jeans tickles my legs. A few seconds later, he drags his cock along my slit. “Think you can take more?” he teases.
“God, yes. Please.” I don’t even care how desperate and eager I sound.
He withdraws completely, cool air replacing his warmth over my bare skin. His body brushes my side as he flops down on the bed in front of me. “Come ride me.”
“Beard or cock?”
Laughter dances in his eyes. He strokes his hand up and down his cock, showing off. “Lady’s choice.”
I strip off my dress and bra, but when I bend over to take off my boots, Rooster sits up and stops me. “Leave the boots on.”
He grips my hip and guides me into the bed. I throw my leg over him, straddling his hips.
“Damn, I’m a lucky bastard,” he whispers. “Every man in that bar would’ve killed to go home with you.”
“Well, you’re the only man I wanted to take home.” I rock back and forth, teasing him for a second before stopping. “I don’t take guys home with me from the bar. Or anywhere, usually. You’re—” I don’t know why I feel the sudden urge to explain myself.
He sits up, pressing his palms against my cheeks. “Wouldn’t matter to me if you did.”
That’s not exactly reassuring for some reason.
“Life’s too short for games or regret.” His low, rumbling voice hints at a deeper meaning. He brushes a soft kiss over my lips, beard tickling my skin. “You my girl tonight?”
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