Tawny’s still chuckling to herself—miserable old bitch—as I stomp over to the bar.
The spark of jealousy burns maddeningly hot inside me. This right here is what I don’t need in my life. Why I shouldn’t be in a relationship.
I catch the eye of the darker-haired girl and she beams at me, throwing a little wave. The urge to slap her scares me, it comes on so strong.
Rooster’s mine. I don’t care who he’s banged in the past.
What a whopper of a lie. I care way too damn much.
Thinking about him with either of these broads has me madder than a three-legged dog trying to bury a bone on an icy pond.
“Hey.” I boost myself up on one of the bar stools and none-too-subtly drape my arm over Rooster’s shoulder.
To my great relief, he slips his arm around my waist. “Hey, chickadee.” He leans down and kisses my cheek. “This is Delilah and…”
“Sheila,” the blonde answers for him.
Phew. So either he’s never slept with her or he’s slept with so many girls he can’t remember all their names.
Oh, this is so bad.
“Right. Sorry, hon.” He squeezes me closer. “This is my girl, Shelby. We’re actually headed upstate again tonight, but I wanted to show her around.”
“How’d it go up there?” Delilah asks.
“Good. You could’ve come up.”
“Nah, I had to work.” She winks at him. “My real job.”
Rooster chuckles. “Appreciate you lookin’ after things here for us.”
“No problem.” She nods to the staircase in the corner. “Sway and Tawny have been here to ‘monitor’ things as well.”
She says it in a neutral tone but I sense she’s not too thrilled. Maybe Tawny’s full of “helpful” tips for all the women who stop by.
Rooster finishes and walks me down the long corridor off the main room. At the end, we take a left and he pulls out a key to open one of the doors. “This is my room,” he explains.
“Oh.” I step inside, admiring the dark gray, weathered hardwood floor that matches the rest of the clubhouse. The walls are painted a lighter shade of gray than the hallways, except for a deep blue accent wall behind the bed. While the colors are calm and soothing, the masculine vibe is reinforced with leather and metal details in the bedframe and a reading chair in the corner. “This is nice.”
He shuts the door behind us. “What’d Tawny say to you?”
Biting my lip, I back into the room, not wanting to answer the question. Now I feel a little silly for letting that woman bother me.
“She’s the last president’s ol’ lady,” he explains. “So I still gotta show her respect, but she’s not always kind to the girls.”
The last flames of jealousy flare and die out. “Some stuff about you liking to share girls? And that you’d probably fucked both bartenders at some point.”
“Jesus.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and drops his head. “Fuckin’ pain in the ass.”
After a beat or two, he glances up, meeting my eyes. “For the record, Sheila just started hanging around here, helping out, more recently. Delilah’s more like a kid sister than…anything else.”
“Oh.” Funny how he sidestepped the first part of what Tawny told me.
“To me,” he clarifies. “What she does with anyone else isn’t my business.”
“Well, I don’t care what anyone else does.”
“Good.”
We stare at each other for a few beats.
“Tawny loves to stir up trouble.”
Rooster’s frustrated tone plucks my guilt strings. I shouldn’t hassle him for horseshit someone else said to me.
“I’m sure she’s still salty that she’s not in charge of the girls around here anymore,” he continues. “Lilly’s too nice to say anything, so I’ll talk to Z.”
“I don’t want to start trouble.”
“It’s not a big deal. I told her you were my girl—that should’ve been her warning not to start shit.”
“No wonder she styles her hair so damn high. Gotta hide them horns somehow,” I grumble.
He bursts out laughing and holds out his arms. “Come here.”
I can’t get to him fast enough. The ugliness still lingers in my belly, mocking me for thinking this long-distance thing is possible.
I peer up at him. “Rooster, I’m not interested in anyone besides you.” In a stronger voice, I add, “And so we’re clear, I don’t share. With anyone.”
He cups my cheek, rubbing his thumb over my bottom lip. “I thought we talked about this last night?”
“We did. This is just for clarification purposes.”
His lips twitch.
“Those stories about southern girls being crazy bitches are all true, Rooster. I got no problem taking a bat to your truck, bike, or shins if you ever cheat on me.”
His cheeks puff out with the effort of holding back his laughter.
“Don’t laugh at me.”
“I’m not. I like this side of you.”
A whole bunch of drunk butterflies flutter in my stomach. “Do you bring girls back here?”
Why do I keep insisting on ice-skating over such dangerous territory?