“Save it for a ‘special remix’,” Chaser adds.
“All right, Ms. Morgan, your turn. Whatcha got?” Dawson asks.
“Whoa, is it my turn again?” There go my nerves fraying.
“Yup.” Dawson motions for me to hurry.
Ugh. I flip through my notebook. “This one’s a little corny, but I kinda like it.”
“Corny’s good.” Chaser’s dark eyes glitter with humor. “Corny pays the bills for years to come sometimes.”
I’m dying to ask if he’s referring to Candy Jar, his old band’s biggest hit, but it’s probably rude so I keep the question to myself and focus on my own song. “Here’s what I have so far.”
“My first love was a guitar.
The only path out of this town.
Couldn’t wait to turn eighteen years old.
To find my way.
My second love was a winding road.
The rocky surface leading me away…”
“I’m sensing a theme here,” Dawson says. “Man, I like it too. What kid livin’ in a small town can’t wait to escape? I know I couldn’t. Jesus, that took me back.” He slaps his leg. “Keep that one. You’ve got the start of something special, there.”
My cheeks glow with pride but I try to downplay it, like it’s not the biggest deal in the world that Dawson Roads likes my song.
We work quietly for short spells of time, then share what we’ve come up with. Fine tuning and expanding on our ideas.
I swear, I’m high from what has to be one of the best writing days I’ve ever had.
But by the end of the afternoon, I’m dead tired.
Chaser checks his phone. “Angelina’s flight comes in at nine. Mal and I are going to head to the airport early just in case.”
Dawson’s head jerks up. “Your daughter’s coming to visit?”
He sure seems to have radar whenever her name’s mentioned.
Something Chaser also seems to notice. His eyes narrow. “I thought she and Shelby might try writing together since Shelby’s partner can’t be here.”
“Sure. Sounds like a great idea.” Dawson hesitates and glances at me. “Listen, I already talked to Shelby about this. I’m gettin’ her out of her contract. I want to sign her to the label I’m starting.”
Chaser slides his phone in his pocket and straightens to face Dawson. “Figured you might be up to something like that when you were chattin’ up Buck the other night.”
“If I can get things worked out, Buck’s willing to produce her album.”
Chaser whistles. “Nice networking on short notice.”
“We’ll do it here,” Dawson says, indicating his studio.
Works for me. I’m already comfortable in this space and wasn’t looking forward to getting used to somewhere new.
“I got plenty of room.” He gestures toward the cottage where I’m staying. “You and Angelina can take over the guest house if you want, Shelby. Have all-night writing sessions, whatever you need.”
While I’m not sure how I feel about having a roommate all of a sudden, if we mesh well, it might be nice to share the same space. I’d rather wait and see if we even get along before I agree to be roomies with a girl I barely know.
“Thanks,” Chaser says slowly. “But she’s going to stay in town with us.”
Especially when Chaser looks like he’s ready to sharpen his papa-bear claws on the nearest tree.
“All right then.” Dawson claps his hands together. “Let’s get back to work.”
Work. Right. Throwing myself into today’s session took my mind off the gaping hole in my universe. And how the only man who can fill it is all the way in New York.
Chapter Forty-Four
Rooster
Jiggy and I crash as soon as we arrive at our clubhouse. We meet up in the kitchen late the next morning. Except for a few club girls prowling around, the place is unusually quiet and empty.
“Where the fuck is everyone?” Jiggy asks.
Lala glances at us from the stove. “Upstate. Rock and Z called everyone up there for church.”
“Fuck,” I groan.
Jiggy pulls out his phone and starts tapping away. “Assholes. I told Steer we were riding back. He coulda mentioned it.”
“Let’s go.”
Before leaving, I stuff a few things into an overnight bag in case we end up staying upstate. Jiggy grins when he sees it and holds up his own pack.
“It’s like we share a brain,” he says.
I shake my body in a dramatic shiver. “Perish the thought. God only knows what’s lurking up here.” I tap the side of his head and he laughs.
“You hear from Shelby?” he asks.
“Yup. Her writing sessions are going well. Chaser’s trying to arrange for his daughter to come down and write with her since Trent’s out.”
“Aw, fuck. We shoulda stayed in Nashville.”
I side-eye him. “Why?”
“Angelina’s hot.”
“Chaser would gut you.”
“Eh. Worth it.” He straps on his helmet.
“Psycho,” I mutter.
It’s a good, clear day for riding and the two-hour trip goes by fast. Soon, we’re at the upstate clubhouse’s gate.
Ravage is the first one to greet us by one of the garages. “Look who’s back from the land of milfs and whiskey!”