“Stop.” I laugh so hard I barely get the word out. “Not now.”
On the other side of the table Jigsaw groans. “Christ, that’s so fucking hot.”
Rooster’s playful smile flattens.
“What?” Jigsaw’s eyebrows rise. “You said it.”
“Forget what I said.” Rooster’s dead firm voice should leave no room for argument, but he should also know Jiggy can’t resist teasing us.
Sure enough, a sly smile spreads over Jigsaw’s face. “Nah, I like that you two can’t keep your hands off each other. It’s cute in a totally sickening way.”
“Thanks.” I reach over and whap him with one of my throw pillows. “That keen hearing of yours is gonna get your ass kicked one day.”
Ignoring me, he grins at Rooster. “Apparently, Shelby’s a take-charge girl. Good for you, brother.”
“I know what I like.” I lean in and run my fingers through Rooster’s hair, nuzzling against his neck and shoulder.
He wraps his arms around me, molding me to his body.
“Please.” Jigsaw holds his hands in the air. “I’ve had enough visual demonstrations of your affection for each other.”
“Sorry.” I giggle, sliding out of Rooster’s lap onto the bench.
“Enough audio demonstrations too,” Jiggy mutters, stabbing his fork into a slice of cucumber.
“A man as talented as mine deserves to be celebrated.” I lift my chin and spear my own cucumber.
Jigsaw snort-laughs. “Good one.”
They chat about biker stuff that doesn’t really interest me, so I take my notebook out and jot a few lines that have been swirling in my head for miles now.
Swore I’d love you ‘til my last breath.
Now I’m dying inside.
A thousand little deaths.
You laugh with her.
Leaving me out of the joke.
“Did my man not get the job done?” Jiggy asks.
“Huh?” I’m a thousand miles away, trying to think of the right word to rhyme with joke, so it takes me a second to process the question. I lift my head and find Jiggy’s head cocked, reading my notes.
“Hey!” I slap my hand over the page. “No peeking.”
Rooster reaches over and slaps Jiggy on the side of the head. “Cut it out.”
Lacking any remorse, Jiggy rests his chin in his palm and taps the page. “I’m concerned. That’s kinda dark for you.”
“I write dark stuff. Sometimes.” I slap the notebook shut. “Besides it’s just rough notes and ideas for later. That’s why the no peeking rule exists.”
Laughter rumbles out of Rooster and I turn my glare on him. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” He holds up his hands. “I’ve never peeked.”
“Those lines are haunting me.” Jiggy grins like an evil imp and sings, “I’m dying inside, a thousand little deaths.”
“Good grief, your voice sounds like a bag of dying goats,” I fume.
“Would you cut it out,” Rooster says.
Jiggy taps the notebook. “You’re not worried she’ll write a song about your sexual prowess?”
“I already did.” I lift my chin. “It’s called, Come Again. And Again. And Again.”
The bench shakes from Rooster’s silent laughter.
Jiggy sips his soda in a smug, Kermit-the-Frog way. “Not telling me anything I haven’t already heard before.”
“Jerk,” I grumble.
“Aw, come on. What inspired it? I wanna know.”
“I don’t know. It’s just some lines that were bouncing around in my head since Washington.”
“Oh, okay then.” Jiggy nods with approval. “I got worried your earlier session inspired it.”
I stare at him. “You know, I love how close you two are and that you guys look out for each other. But that’s…one too far.”
“Boundaries.” Rooster wads up a napkin and throws it at Jiggy’s head. “Find some.”
“I’m unfamiliar with this concept,” Jiggy says.
I tip my head back. “We know. Lord, we know!” I shout at the ceiling.
Laughing, Jiggy stands and clear the table for us.
“Sorry,” Rooster mouths at me.
“It’s fine.” I flick a glance at Jiggy at the sink washing the dishes. “I can’t stay mad at him even if I wanted to.”
“I am pretty irresistible,” Jiggy says over his shoulder.
“Irritating. That’s the word you’re looking for,” Rooster says.
“That too.”
Laughing, I tuck my pen in my notebook. Rooster’s watching me closely. “Do you want to read it, since Jiggy saw it?” I ask.
“Not unless you want me to.”
I shrug and pass over the notebook open to the last page.
He scans it and nods slowly. “I think I can guess what inspired it.”
I collect the notebook and slip it in my back pocket. “I don’t know if I’ll even use it. It’s just an idea.”
Jiggy turns, resting his butt against the counter while he dries a coffee mug. “I wanna know what inspired it.”
“A story I overheard,” I answer quickly, not wanting to betray Heather’s confidence about her cheatin’ husband.
More serious now, Jiggy asks, “Is that how you write songs? Collecting little nuggets to dust off and polish into a diamond later?”
I blink and stare at him for a second. “Damn, if that’s not the best description of song writing I’ve ever heard.”
He grins at me. “See, I’m useful for stuff.”