“Shelby!” Greg’s voice intrudes from somewhere behind us.
She groans and squeezes her eyes shut.
“Hold that thought.” I kiss her once more.
“Thank God you’re here. I was starting to worry.” Greg grabs her by the shoulders and gives her a weird, stiff-armed hug. “You need a shower.”
“No kiddin’?” Shelby drawls, clearly annoyed.
“Sorry, sorry.” Greg holds up his hands. “Congratulations. I talked to Miranda earlier. Dawson got a nod too so at least there will be a familiar face there.”
“Oh why didn’t he say so?” Shelby slaps her thigh. “Dang it. He texted to congratulate me. But I didn’t know he got nominated too.”
“You can talk about it later.” Greg’s gaze lands on me. “How’d it go?”
“Good. Thanks for the alternate route suggestion.”
Greg nods and stops to talk to everyone for a second. He sure has loosened up about having all these bikers in his face night after night. Not that we gave him a choice.
“Oh, before I forget. I set up a visit through Dream Makers. Little girl. Ten, I think. She’ll be at the meet-and-greet. I’ll try to have her come in last so you can spend extra time with her.”
“Thank you. What’s her name?
Greg screws his face up. “Laura? Lorna? Something with an L.”
“Can you send it to me, so I can get it right?” Shelby says, barely hiding her irritation.
“Yes. Yes.” He flicks his gaze at me, but he’s not gettin’ any sympathy from me on this one. He knows how important those visits are to Shelby. “Can I have my star?” he asks me with a fraction of his old sarcasm before returning his attention to Shelby. “The dressing room here is probably the nicest one you’ve had on the tour.”
“Go ahead, Shelby,” I lift my chin toward the back entrance. “I’ll bring your stuff in.” As much as I hate letting her out of my sight, I’m the only one who knows what Shelby likes to have with her before a show. Murphy, Wrath, and the girls follow behind Shelby and Greg. No one will mess with Shelby as long as they’re watching out for her.
Jigsaw walks over, stretching out his back.
“You all right?”
“Just tweaked. I shouldn’t have teased Shelby about all the yoga. Now she probably won’t teach me anything, will she?”
“You’re smart. Look it up.”
He follows me into the van. The other guys mill around outside, rehashing the ride here and going over their plan for the night.
“Logan! Glad you’re here,” Dawson calls out as I’m stepping out of the RV.
He jogs over the pavement to meet us, nodding hello to all my brothers.
“Congrats, heard you got a nod too,” I say when he stops in front of me.
“Oh yeah.” He waves it away. “It’s good for Shelby. She can use the exposure.”
I nod and keep moving.
“The big, big one, Wrath? He said half your crew is headin’ home tomorrow?”
I nod to Remy, Griff, and Hustler. “Yeah, they gotta get back. I’ll still have some guys with me, though.”
“Good, good. Look, I got a buddy with a ranch about ten miles outta the city. We’re parking there after tonight’s show. Probably camp out at his place for a day or two.” He motions toward the truck. “You’re more than welcome to park there too and hang with us.” He glances at the guys. “Everyone’s invited. I already cleared it with him. We always do a big bonfire. There’ll be beer, music, and barbecue. It’s usually a fun time.” He glances at the parking lot. “Some ladies from the show usually find their way out there with the crew…”
That gets the attention and approval of my more degenerate brothers, naturally.
“Thanks, Dawson.” I squeeze his shoulder. “Appreciate it. Yeah, we’ll do that tonight.” I glance at Jigsaw. “We’re heading to our mother charter in Mississippi tomorrow. Not sure if we’re staying for the whole four days off, though.”
“Don’t matter. Come and go as you please.” He glances over his shoulder again. “I gotta run. I’ll text you the directions later.”
“Thanks.”
Once he’s gone, the guys circle around me. “That sound all right to everyone?”
“Fuck yeah.” Pants pulls a wrinkled, filthy pink card out of his pocket. I groan when I recognize it. “I gotta catch up or I’m gonna miss my patch.”
“Jesus Christ,” I groan.
“Oh, like you haven’t been gettin’ your card punched every night,” he says.
“I’m gonna punch your face if you don’t knock it off.”
Jigsaw remains mercifully silent.
Pants scans the crowd already gathering at the front entrance. We’re too far away to make out many details but that doesn’t stop him from searching.
“Please, stop eyeballin’ my girlfriend’s fans like they’re your own personal meat market,” I warn.
As if I hadn’t said a word, Pants continues. He slaps Jiggy’s arm and leans in close. “Let’s be selective with who we bring with us. Some of these girls are too loose.” He makes a squeezing gesture with his hand. “I need a real tight pussy, you know?”