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 confused, too.
She didn’t belong here.
An hour and a half in, and Cheyenne told them it was time for Dead to do his interviews.
“But we still have a line,” Raven murmured, gesturing to the fifteen or so fans still waiting to talk to Dead.
“Yeah, I don’t give a shit about the interviews. These ladies have been waiting a while,” Dead rumbled between jokes with a blond-haired beauty with a megawatt smile.
Cheyenne’s dark eyebrows drew down. “Buuuut, you always tell me to let you know when you can stop signing. You hate doing this stuff.”
“Well, tonight I want to get through the line,” he said with a shrug.
Cheyenne’s frown morphed into a grin. Pointing at Raven, she said, “You did this.”
“What? What did I do?”
“You’re doing magic. Dead is always a shit about the work after an event. Good job, gold star,” she said as she walked away. “A plus! I’ll push Dead’s interviews back to last.”
The line went fast, and Raven started organizing the small amount of remaining swag into one box as Dead went to talk to Quickdraw, who was also getting ready to leave. Her ears picked up just about anything so she could hear their conversation just fine.
Dead asked, “Did you see him?”
“God, you’re like a mother hen,” Quickdraw muttered. “He’ll be fine. It was an accident.”
“Yeah, I accidentally tried to kill a rider and hurt Two instead.”
“Who’s the girl?” Quickdraw asked low.
“Met her tonight. Name’s Raven.”
“Shifter?” Quickdraw was looking mighty busy stacking his leftover magnets just so.
“What’s it to you?” Dead asked, his voice darkening.
Quickdraw straightened up and looked down his nose at Dead. Then he looked at Raven. Then back at Dead. “A human won’t survive you, asshole. My concern is for her. Not you.”
“Cow shifter,” Raven said, and damn her voice for shaking. “Purebred longhorn.”
“The fuck?” Dead asked, twisting toward her in a blur. He and Quickdraw wore matching shocked expressions. It would’ve been funny if it really really wasn’t funny.
Every shifter reacted the same way when they found out what she was. She didn’t make any sense.
“Well, hell then,” Quickdraw muttered, clapping Dead on the back. “I’m not worried about her anymore. I’m worried about you.”
Time for a subject change. “That was interesting,” she told him.
Dead blinked hard and closed the space between them. “You mispronounced ‘fun.’” He took the box from her hands. “A longhorn? For real?”
She snorted and nodded her head, looked at the ground so he wouldn’t see the heat in her cheeks. The last thing on earth she liked talking about was her inner animal. “It was really nice to meet you.”
“You, too. But if you’re saying your goodbyes, it ain’t time for that yet. We still have interviews.”
“In front of cameras? No.”
He hooked his hands on his hips and searched her eyes. As much as she wished she wasn’t so affected by the bright green in his eyes, the perfect shade of brown of his hair, his tan skin, or muscles curving against his T-shirt… As much as she wished she wasn’t awed by the curve of his smile, the white of his teeth, or the thickness of his manly beard… As much as she wished she wasn’t struck by his powerful stance or his ability to look her right in the eye and hold her gaze…she absolutely was. “Please don’t ask me to do the interviews.”
“I won’t make you do the cameras. I think you don’t like that attention.”
“Nope. Not at all. Not even one percent.”
He dropped his gaze to her arm. “But you tattooed your skin. If you don’t want people looking at you, why did you decorate yourself like this?”
“I did that for me. I wanted to like what I saw when I looked in the mirror, and I think tattoos are beautiful.”
“Hmm,” he said softly with a nod of his head. “Well, I think they’re beautiful now, too. Maybe someday you can tell me what they all mean.”
She didn’t know why that made her sad. Perhaps it was the realization that tonight would end soon. “Yeah. Maybe someday. Hey, Dead?” she asked as he turned to walk away.
“Yeah?”
She bit her lip and looked at where the line of fans had been. “I was supposed to be one of those girls tonight.”
He shook his head. “What girls?”
“The ones standing in line to spend a couple minutes with you. Maybe get something signed, but really I just wanted to ask you a question.”
The toe of his boot hit a clump of dirt as he adjusted his weight and settled the box under one arm. “What question did you want to ask?”