Shine Forever Read online

  Table of Contents

  Shine Forever

  Book Details

  Dedication

  Prelude

  Track 01: Clothes are Over-rated

  Track 02: Sand and Silk

  Track 03: Wanna Wear You to Bed

  Track 04: Sound of Your Voice

  Track 05: Business or Pleasure

  Track 06: Out of Place

  Track 07: Zero Tolerance Policy

  Track 08: Use Your Mouth

  Track 09: Shine Forever

  About the Author

  Shine Forever

  MEGAN DERR

  Dai gave up everything when he ran away with his cousin, trading a life of wealth, power, and security to create their band and live the way they want. The one thing he refuses to do is hide; he's worked way too hard, and given up way too much, to pretend to be something he's not.

  Cooper never anticipated he would trade rodeo fame for country music stardom. But the secret he had to keep for his own safety is now a secret he has to keep to protect his band. The one thing he can never do is make his sexuality public; he's sacrificed far too much to risk it all by airing personal matters.

  But when a chance meeting turns into a passionate night that neither can forget, a tenuous relationship neither wants to let go, someone is going to have to break the rules…

  Book Details

  Shine Forever

  The Missing Butterfly #3

  By Megan Derr

  Published by Less Than Three Press LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

  Edited by Samantha M. Derr

  Cover designed by Megan Derr

  This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

  First Edition March 2015

  Copyright © 2015 by Megan Derr

  Printed in the United States of America

  Digital ISBN 9781620045237

  Print ISBN 9781620045244

  To the musicians,

  Because so many stories came to life with a song

  Prelude

  Cooper looked up at the sound of someone walking through the grass, recognizing his mother's stride. She held out a large glass of iced tea, already wet with condensation. "You're the best, Ma." He set the jigsaw aside, pulled off his work gloves, and took the tea. "How's things going in the east pasture?"

  "You ain't heard your father bellowing a blue streak?"

  "Naw, though I did wonder what he'd done when I heard sirens flying down Barton Road."

  She made a derisive noise and pushed back a stray grey-threaded auburn curl. "They turned down Robinson. That Milton Trapper is up to no good again, I'd wager. Boy is forty-five going on twelve." She shook her head. "How goes the shed? You moving right along, huh? It's good to have you home." She leaned up to kiss his cheek.

  "Given you say that ten times a day, I think you're still trying to convince yourself it's true." He laughed when she lightly punched his arm. "Your shed is near repaired. I just gotta cut these last few boards and nail'em in place. What's for dinner?"

  "Enchiladas and—" she broke off with a sigh as the sound of a ringing bell filled the air. "Now who could that be? I sure wasn't expecting anyone." She patted his arm. "Guess I'll go see. Hurry up and finish and you'll beat your father and the hands back to the house, have time for a shower and beer before they undo all the housecleaning I just finished."

  Cooper grinned. "You do know how to motivate." He kissed her cheek, snickered as the bell started ringing again. "You'd best get, 'fore whoever's ringing has a meltdown."

  She rolled her eyes but hurried off back across the back yard, vanishing through the kitchen door. Finishing his tea, Cooper wiped sweat from his brow, pulled his gloves on and got back to work.

  An hour later, he'd finished repairing the busted shed wall and had put everything back inside it. Dinner, help his mom with the kitchen, and then he was spending the rest of the night with a beer and a book. Tomorrow he might just sneak off to go fishing.

  Though that might just leave him a bit too much time to think, and the last thing he wanted was to sink back into a bad mood. He'd hung his hat, called it quits, but saying was a hell of a lot easier than doing. On the other hand, every time his leg ached he was reminded why he'd retired from bull riding. He'd gotten off easy, even if his break had been bad enough to require extensive surgery.

  He wouldn't soon be forgetting Timothy, dead of a broken neck. His mother scared to death and his father far too still and quiet. His sister so damned mad she didn't talk to him for a week. Wasn't no way he'd be doing that to them again. Wasn't in a hurry to do it to himself again.

  Didn't mean he didn't miss it, or all the friends he wasn't likely to see again. Long past time he found something else to do with himself, but hell if he knew what.

  Stepping into the kitchen, he deposited his glass in the sink before darting over to the laundry room. He stripped off everything but his jeans, putting his boots on the long mat by the kitchen door and hanging his hat on one of the hooks lined up above the mat.

  "Ma?" he called out. "I'm getting a shower. After that you want help in the kitchen?"

  "Hang on!"

  He waited at the bottom of the stairs, and she came bustling out of the sunroom at the back of the house. "Come on back here when you're done. You remember Jake Hallow?"

  "Yeah, course I do." He and Jake had gone to school together; his family owned a cattle ranch on the other side of the city. Their paths had crossed fair often on the rodeo circuit since Jake and his band were always playing the bars where Cooper and his rodeo buddies went to unwind.

  "He's got a favor to ask you."

  A favor? What in the world would Jake need from him? "Okay, give me twenty minutes and I'll be back down to talk to him." He hauled up the stairs, looped around the top of the staircase, and went all the way down the hall to the rickety bathroom he'd used all his life. At some point while he'd been gone they'd replaced the tub and toilet, but it still looked much like it had back in his grandma's day.

  Lord knew the pipes still made enough racket to wake the dead. He got the water going and threw his jeans in the hamper, then slid into the shower and started scrubbing.

  So much for a relaxing evening. He hadn't seen or heard from Jake in nearly a year. The last time they'd crossed paths had been a dive outside of Cheyenne.

  Had about given Cooper a damn heart attack since he'd been there to meet a date—that was probably being overgenerous—and he'd thought that bar was safe enough. Hadn't expected Jake and his band, a handful of others, to come strolling in. But the date hadn't shown, so it had all ended well, more or less.

  Rinsing off, he grabbed a towel, rubbed down, then wrapped the towel around his waist and headed back up the hall to his bedroom. Thankfully that had changed since he was a kid, mostly because his parents used it as a guest room whenever he was out of town. His luggage still sat on the floor in the corner, only partially unpacked, the dresser and desk cluttered with things he hadn't bothered to sort and put away properly.

  Rifling through the luggage, Cooper pulled out boxers, jeans, and a plain black t-shirt. He pulled on socks, combed his fingers through his hair, then finally hustled downstairs and started for the kitchen to grab a beer first.

  "I've got you a beer in here!" His mother called out.

  "That's why you're my favorite mother," Cooper said with a grin as he stepped into the sunroom. Approaching the table where they were sitting, he held out a hand and shook Jake's. "Hey, Jake. Ain't seen you in forever. How's it going?" />
  Jake made a face. "Cutting to the chase, not so well. That's why I'm here."

  "Oh?" Cooper sat down and took the can of beer his mother held out with a thanks. "What's wrong that you think I can fix?"

  His mother stood up. "I'll leave you boys to it. I've gotta get those enchiladas in the oven, or your father will eat the table." She ruffled Cooper's hair and departed, closing the sunroom door behind her.

  Cooper took a swallow of beer. "Should I be afraid? What's wrong that you need my help?"

  "Heard tell you're done with bull riding. Folks are damned disappointed. You was set to go far and everyone was looking forward to you taking the top spot."

  "Guess I wasn't tough enough. I woke up in that hospital, and it was enough for me."

  Jake nodded, rubbed nervously at his mustache, then picked up his beer and took a long swallow. "You still got your fiddle?"

  "Yeah," Cooper said. "It's covered in about six inches of dust, though, and the strings are probably shot. Anyway, you got a fiddler."

  "Not anymore, I don't," Jake said, expression turning sour. "Damn fool got himself arrested on a DUI. Ain't the first time he's been that stupid, neither, and I can't be having that nonsense. I was hoping you might be willing to fill in until I can find a permanent replacement. I wouldn’t be bothering you—I know you're recovering still and probably want to relax—but we got this big show coming up in a few months, and you're the only one I know who's familiar enough with our stuff you might could help us out. I can't pay much, but I'll make it worth your while."

  Cooper sat back in his chair, drank more of his beer. "I don't mind helping, Jake, but I think you're overestimating my skills. Fiddling is just a hobby for me. I ain't nearly at the level of you and the others, and out of practice anyway."

  "I think you're the one underestimating. You was always wasted on those damn bulls, even if folks would kill me for saying so." He winked over his beer as he drained it. "We're playing at a small dive this weekend. You could come over my place and get in some practice tomorrow and Friday, be halfway to decent by Saturday night. Then we'll train you up on the stuff you gotta know for the big show. We're opening for another band, hoping it'll be the start of really getting us out there."

  "Hell, it ain't like I'm doing anything around here," Cooper replied. Maybe doing something full on crazy as joining a band would take his mind off quitting the rodeo, feeling like a damned failure because when it came down to it waking up with a damn-near destroyed leg and scared family had been more than enough for him. Plenty of others had shaken it off, and he'd had other injuries, but that had been too much. "You still live by the creek?"

  "Yep."

  "Alright then, why not? May as well make myself useful, and it ain't like fiddling and free beer is a chore. What time should I come over?"

  "I'll be up early to haul my mom to the church fair, but I should be back at the house round noon. You can come over any time after that."

  Cooper nodded and stood with him, shook hands again. "I'll be over roundabout twelve thirty then."

  Jake wrapped his other hand around Cooper's and squeezed lightly. "Thanks, man. Welcome to Shine the Moon."

  "Thanks. Hope I don't slow ya'll down until you can find a permanent fiddler."

  "Maybe I'll talk you into becoming permanent."

  Cooper laughed. "I ain't the music star type. Ya'll turn famous, I'm gonna turn and run."

  Jake winked and let him go. "Famous last words. I'll see you tomorrow. Give my best to your mom."

  "Will do." Cooper walked him to the door, and once Jake had driven away, he went to go dig out his fiddle and get it fit for use again, humming as he went.

  Track 01

  Clothes are Over-rated

  Five years later

  "Jet, put your goddamn pants back on, or I swear to god I will castrate you with this spoon. Nobody wants to look at your McDuck this early in the morning."

  Jet snickered but grabbed his pants from where he'd thrown them over the back of the couch he'd fallen asleep on. Half-dressed, he raked his hair out of his face and padded over to the kitchenette of their hotel suite and stole the cup of coffee Dai had just poured. "You know, most people enjoy themselves when they're in Florida."

  "Most people don't put on a five hour concert two days after flying back from Kyoto. Shut up until I've had coffee." Dai poured a second cup, then dropped down into the nearest seat with a groan, letting his head thunk on the table while he waited for the coffee to cool enough he could guzzle it without burning his mouth. "What the fuck time is it?"

  He heard Jet yawn, then pick up something on the table. "Just coming on noon."

  "Too fucking early," Dai said with another groan. "When do we get time off again?"

  "Soon, but not soon enough."

  Ugh. Sitting up, he pulled his coffee close and took a cautious sip. Blech. "We need to get coffee that doesn't taste like ass."

  "There's a decent shop maybe two blocks from here, if I recall correctly," Jet said, drinking his as though oblivious to the taste. Which, given his rumpled, got-laid state, he probably was. It was a good bet he was only two-fifths awake. "Put clothes on, we'll go."

  "You put clothes on—and maybe wash up. You smell."

  "Fuck you," Jet said with entirely too much cheer. He finished his coffee and rose, then vanished into his bedroom.

  Dai dragged himself back into his, abandoning the shitty coffee on the kitchen counter. A quick shower woke him up a little bit but not nearly enough. He fumbled through his suitcase and pulled out jeans and a green tanktop that did not even remotely match his pink and orange hair. Whatever, it was Florida. Coordination of bright colors was not required. Shoving his feet into sandals and grabbing his wallet from where it had fallen on the floor, he snatched up his sunglasses and headed back out into the main room.

  Jet appeared a few minutes later dressed in white skinny jeans and an electric blue t-shirt that hurt to look at. "You have to turn the lights on when you get dressed, Jet."

  In reply, Jet just flipped him off. "Come on, buttercup, let's get you caffeinated before you do something rash, like commit murder or make friends with Hard Play."

  "Ha!" Dai replied, sliding his sunglasses into place. Nikko and his goon squad could kiss his ass. Not that he had to tell Jet that; he and Nikko were going to kill each other one day. Assuming Dai's brother, Jason, didn't kill Jet first, especially after the last bit of televised nudity.

  They lapsed into silence as they walked to the coffee shop, which was busy but not nearly as nuts as Dai would have expected for a place within spitting distance of the beach. He ordered a regular coffee for him and a mocha with an extra shot for Jet, then carried the drinks to the window counter and slid into the vacant seat next to Jet. He removed his sunglasses and tucked them into the collar of his tanktop. "So what the hell do we have to do today?"

  Jet took a sip of his drink and folded his arms on the counter. "Not a whole lot. Interview with a magazine in like three hours, but they're coming to us at the hotel. After that we're going to scope the place for that private show we're doing Wednesday, and then it's just dinner with Cassidy and Malcolm. Oh! That reminds me…" He dug his phone out of his pocket and flipped through a bunch of texts. "Apparently some other friends of theirs are in town, so they're gonna join us. Uh… his text says 'Names are Jake Hallow and Cooper Stone… hope you like country, lol.' What does that mean?"

  "Jake Hallow is lead vocals for Shine the Moon," Dai said around a yawn. "I got a couple of their songs. Other guy is probably part of the band; the name sounds vaguely familiar."

  "Well, it could be worse than country I suppose," Jet said with a grin.

  Dai snorted and focused on his coffee. "You're full of shit." Jet's country collection wasn't far behind his rock collection in terms of quantity. Jet listened to damn near everything.

  "At least I don't listen to Hard Play."

  "Shut up." Dai took a few more sips of coffee and then asked, "Do we need to be dress
ed up for this interview? Is it the whole band or just you and me?"

  "You and me, and no, they'll use promotional shots. The reporter is just darting in quick like before she has to go do something else. It was catch us here briefly or wait until next month, and I don't want us interrupted while we're doing fuck nothing."

  "Amen to that." Dai finished his coffee and got up to throw the cup away. "I'm going to wander around a bit. I'll be back in time for the interview."

  Jet grunted something in reply, attention mostly on whatever he was rapidly typing on his phone. Rolling his eyes, Dai headed out, sliding his sunglasses back on his face. He should have remembered to bring his headphones. He wandered down the street, grateful for the general chaos of meandering tourist and hassled locals, because it meant he was unlikely to be recognized. God he just wanted to be home, sleeping until all hours or sitting in his breakfast nook jotting down song lyrics until it was time for an afternoon nap in the gazebo.

  He paused as he came to a bookstore and peered through the window at what looked like a cute little shop that, bonus, also looked practically empty. Ducking inside, he breathed in the scent of books as he removed his sunglasses. Jet said he was full of crazy and had obviously inhaled too much frigging dust, but what the fuck ever. Jet had paid someone thousands of dollars to cover him in tattoos of cartoons. He could shut the hell up.

  Dai wandered slowly through the shelves, poking and prodding, hanging on to a couple of history books about the industrial revolution that looked fun before looping around to see what fantasy had to offer. He'd gotten caught up reading a book about living dolls in a medieval-type setting when a laugh jolted him out of the pages like he'd been burned. Holy shit, it shouldn't be legal for a laugh to be that sexy. It was all smoke and brown sugar. Dai wanted to taste it. He swallowed, shook his head, but snapped the book shut and went to sneak a peek.

  "Hey, loser, what are you doing? We ain't hauling your damn books on the plane. We're already gonna be overweight with all the crap Henry and Callie are probably going to buy."