“You like that one?” he asked as he signed the first one with a silver permanent marker.
“Me?” she asked.
“Yeah you. You keep starin’ at it. It’s okay to tell your boyfriend he’s hot. I like compliments. Compliments and positive reinforcement make me work harder. For example…” He looked up at his fan and grinned at her. “If a woman told me she liked something in the bedroom, I would explore everything about that until she was moaning my name and begging me to never stop.”
The fan started fanning herself with a sign that read—Raven leaned forward and squinted at the upside-down words—Dead, Dead, you’re good in bed.
Oh, God. “I should really be going,” Raven whispered.
“Nonsense, you aren’t going anywhere,” Dead rumbled, squeezing her leg under the table.
She didn’t even flinch. Huh. It actually was a little comfort. Huh.
“Look, when you’re in a relationship—” he started.
“We aren’t in a relationship,” she gritted out through clenched teeth.
Dead held up a finger and winked at the next fan, then yanked Raven’s chair right up against his and leaned into her ear. “You support your person. Tonight, I have to sign a bunch of half-naked pictures of myself for these humans. I don’t like humans much. And I have to take pictures I don’t want to take and fill these ladies’ spank banks with the fantasy of me, when in reality, I just dropped to a rank that guts me, I’m worried about my friend, I’m drowning in guilt, I’m starving, my shoulder is sore because I can’t seem to keep the damn thing in its socket, and the only thing that has felt decent tonight is when a woman I’ve never met before said ‘It’s okay,’ in that arena. Support me here, and I’ll buy you a pair of boots.”
Raven parted her lips to respond, but no words came out. He was just lingering by her ear, his lips almost touching her lobe. She could feel the featherlight wind from his warm breath, and chills rippled up her forearms. “What kind of boots?”
“Western, of course.”
“I don’t wear cowgirl boots.”
“They’ll be leather, good quality, and I’ll find them in black with a little bit of a heel to show off those sexy legs of yours. Python if you want. I could see you liking snakeskin boots. They match your style. The next rodeo you come to see me at, you’ll be wearing the right shoes.”
Well, she didn’t plan on attending any more rodeos, but how the heck was she going to argue with that? Those boots sounded awesome. And he’d paid attention to her style. Maybe trying black cowgirl boots wouldn’t be so bad. If they were a gift and she didn’t have to pay for them.
Raven cleared her throat and smiled at the fan who was waiting on the other side of the table, snapping pictures of them with her phone. “Would you like a complimentary magnet of Dead’s bull?”
“Atta girl,” Dead murmured, easing back. He winked at her—winked, like hot boys did in the movies—and then began conversing with his line again.
A few fans later, Cheyenne came up behind them and set two ice waters on the table. She leaned into Raven and whispered, “There is a money box under the table with some change. The pictures are ten bucks apiece if anyone wants to buy one for Dead to sign. The rest of the swag is free. I usually do this for all the boys, but Two Shots can’t sign tonight. Quickdraw is coming out any second, so I can handle his table if you are up for working Dead’s.”
“She ain’t workin’ it,” Dead said. “She’s gonna just have fun with me and all these lovely ladies tonight. This table is the party table. How you doin’ tonight?” he asked a woman approaching from the front of the line.
Cheyenne rolled her eyes heavenward. “Raven, if you need anything, I’ll be floating back and forth between here and Two Shots’ room.”
“Is he okay?” Raven whispered.
“He will be. There is a vet in with him now.”
“He changed?” Dead asked.
“He had to turn bull so they could make sure the bone didn’t snap. They think it’s just a deep bone bruise, though. Stop worrying, Dead. He’s not fragile.” Cheyenne shoved him in the back of the head.
“Disagree,” he muttered as he signed another picture.
After Cheyenne left, Raven got into the rhythm of it, and really? No one paid much attention to her. For the most part, she got to keep her cloak of invisibility, setting up little gift bags of swag, taking money for pictures, and lining everything up in order so Dead could sign one stack and then move onto the other as he talked to his followers. She even got efficient at taking pictures for people who wanted them with Dead. They would hand her their phones and she would snap a few and, after an hour, she pretty much had it down.
She and Dead made a good team for a couple of strangers. Two times, before they took their seats after pictures, he patted her on the butt as if he knew her. And once she signed a napkin for a very shy fan who said she liked Raven’s tattoos. About ten times, the giant, intimidating, bull monster named Quickdraw Slow Burn stared at her with confusion in his dark eyes from the next table down as he signed autographs. She got it. She was
