Wishing For A Home
Wishing For A Home
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Liquid Silver Books
M/M Contemporary Cowboys
[Ebook]
Derek St. Martin is Nashville’s hottest country singer. For eight years, fame and fortune have come his way, but he’s not happy. In fact, he’s on the edge of a nervous breakdown or checking into a drug rehab center. Hiding his sexual preferences is driving him to resort to numbing the pain. When his stepbrother suggests he should go on vacation, Derek jumps at the chance to relax and get his head on straight.
Max Furlo isn’t happy. His bosses were leaving him in charge of some singer while he had other more important things to take care of. Seeing Derek St. Martin for the first time hits Max hard and, suddenly, he’s considering a summer fling.
Both men know that a relationship can never be for them. Derek’s career wouldn’t handle the news and Max can’t live a lie. Yet when a summer fling becomes love, who will be willing to risk it all for a chance at forever?
Contains: Hot manlove with sexy cowboys and gorgeous country singers.
Excerpt:
Prologue
Derek St. Martin fell on the bed, burying his face in his pillow. It’d been eight months since he’d slept in his own bed and he was ready for a vacation. The tour had been rough. His body hurt and his voice had deserted him before the last gig. Somehow he’d managed to suck it up and give a great show.
His head pounded. Shit. He rolled over, contemplating how much energy it would take to go and grab some pills from the bathroom. More than he had at the moment.
Closing his eyes, he tried to relax. The pounding stopped for a moment and he sighed. When the noise started again, Derek realized someone was knocking on his front door.
“Fuck,” he muttered, ignoring whoever it was.
He really wasn’t in any shape to talk to people. After sitting up, he tugged his T-shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor. He flopped back, covering his eyes with his arm.
“Hey, man, you okay?”
Derek almost levitated off the mattress when Eddie’s voice sounded in the room with him. Frowning, he glanced under his arm to the doorway and saw his stepbrother, Edward Monterrose, leaning against the doorframe.
“Need sleep,” he whispered which was about all the volume he could achieve.
“I know. Let’s get you comfortable.”
He didn’t protest as Eddie stripped him and threw a blanket over him.
“Do you need anything?”
“Pills. Bathroom. Little blue ones.”
Derek listened to Eddie’s footsteps as he moved from room to room. The medicine cabinet door shut and water ran.
“Here.”
Eddie slipped an arm around his shoulder and propped him up enough to drink the pills down with some water.
“Thanks.”
He curled up around a pillow, pressed his face against the cool cotton fabric and waited for the meds to kick in.
“I’ll be back in a few days. We need to talk about that pharmacy in your bathroom.”
Derek didn’t hear Eddie leave. He’d slipped into the easy floating where he didn’t hurt and he wasn’t lonely.
Chapter One
Nashville, Tennessee, two days later
Derek curled up in his favorite recliner, a glass dangling from his fingers. He rested his head against the cushion and closed his eyes.
“Derek, you need to get away.”
He didn’t look at Eddie, who had respected his need to sleep and waited two days before coming back. Except for getting up to take more pills and pee, he hadn’t even left his bed until this morning.
“I’d love to, but there isn’t anywhere I can go where I won’t be recognized.” He opened one eye and checked out where Eddie stood.
One wall of his living room was made entirely of windows, giving him an unobstructed view of the lake. He often sat and watched the deer come down to drink at night. His brother stood there now, staring out the window.
“If I found you a place, would you go?” He turned and Derek saw the worry in his eyes.
Derek shrugged, took a sip of whiskey and closed his eyes. “Not sure a place like that exists.”
“Sounds fucking arrogant, Derek.” Eddie sat down on the couch and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“I know it does, but it’s the truth. Don’t you think I’ve tried to get away? Do you think I like having to be Derek St. fucking Martin all the time?” He swallowed the rest of his whiskey.
He pushed to his feet and staggered to the bar where a half-empty bottle sat. Setting his glass on the counter, he started to pour another drink.
“No more.”
Eddie took the bottle and glass away. Derek braced his arms against the smooth wooden edge. His throat still hurt, but the pounding in his head had lessened slightly.
“Fine.” He’d wait until he was alone again.
“You need to stop this shit, Derek. The booze and pills aren’t good for you.” Eddie sat on the stool next to him and shook his head. “I can’t believe Thomas lets you do this.”
Derek laughed harshly. “The pills keep me going. I can rest with the sleeping pills. Other pills for energy so I can perform. The alcohol dulls it all so I don’t care how fucking messed up everything’s gotten.”
He went back to the chair, drawing his knees under his chin and wrapping his arms around them. “Thomas could care less as long as I can sing, continue to make him obscene amounts of money, and don’t get caught fucking a guy.”
Eddie poured himself a drink. “You chose this life. You don’t have to go to all those parties and clubs. It’s your choice to drink and pop pills. I thought country singers weren’t quite as caught up in the whole scene as rock stars.”
Snorting, Derek eyed his brother. “You’re kidding, right? Haven’t you ever heard of any of those country singers whose careers were cut short because of all the boozing and hard living they did? I’m just following in illustrious footsteps, my friend.”
“But I thought this is what you wanted.” Eddie gestured to include the expensive furniture, the large house, and the gold records on the walls.
He sighed. “That’s the twisted, fucked-up thing. When I started all this shit, I would have given anything to be successful. Eight years later, I’m starting to think I sold my soul.”
Eddie sat on the coffee table in front of Derek and reached out, putting a hand on his knee. “Is all of this simply because you’re gay and you have to pretend not to be?”
Laughing, he shook his head. “It’s only a small part of a bigger problem, Eddie. When I first fell in love with music, all I could think about was the music, the lyrics, and the songs. Then I became famous and there isn’t time to focus on the music anymore. I have to be seen and be ‘on’ all the time. I have to keep in shape because a fat singer doesn’t sell records. I have to smile and look like I’m enjoying my life.”
“I feel for you, man. It must be terrible having all this and having to act like you enjoy it.”
He slapped Eddie’s hand off his knee and shot to his feet. Pacing from the windows to the bar, he shoved his hands through his hair and moaned. His head pounded and he longed to take another blue pill. Drifting along on what current he found sounded like a great way to spend his vacation, though he knew that if he didn’t go somewhere, Thomas would find him and drag him out to do some sort of publicity thing.
Also, as much as he had come to depend on the liquor and drugs to soften the edges cutting his nerves to shreds, he knew the danger he was in. He didn’t want to be a stereotypical drug-addicted musician. Shit, he simply wanted to play his guitar and sing.
He froze in front of the bar, staring at himself in the mirror above it. He’d been blessed with slightly golden skin, looking like he always had a tan. Dark circles had taken up permanent residence under his eyes and he realized he looked older than his thirty-two years.
Dropping his gaze to stare at the cream carpet under his bare feet, he hunched his shoulders and he asked for help from the only person he trusted.
“Eddie, I need help.”
“I know.” Moving to his side, Eddie slipped his arm around his shoulders. “First, we have to get rid of the shit in your system. You’re sliding quickly down a terrible slope, brother, and now that I know how bad it is, I refuse to let you go.”
As his brother’s words washed over him, Derek relaxed. A fresh pair of eyes and a person who didn’t derive their living from Derek’s talent was just what he needed to help him get a grip on his life.
“Thank you.”
“We only have each other, Derek. You’re the brother of my heart, even if we don’t share any blood.” Eddie hugged him quickly before stepping away to start pacing himself. “I might have a place for you to hang out. How long before you have to go back into the studio?”
Derek returned to the chair and allowed the soft cushions to swallow him. “Three months. Thomas and the record label weren’t going to give me that much, but my doctor told them I was on the verge of a breakdown and needed to get away from the business for a while.” He tilted his head and said, “I haven’t written a damn thing since before this last tour. It’s all gone silent in my head.”
“Could be all the drugs,” Eddie suggested.
“Nah. It never made a difference before.” He rested his forehead on his knees and rocked. “There’s a part of me ready to toss the whole thing and run away.”
“H-m-m-m … let me make a call.”
He pointed to the phone on the end table. “You can use that.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll go in your study.”
Shrugging, Derek waved Eddie away and started humming one of his hit songs.
*
Edward flipped open his cell phone and scrolled through his numbers. Finding the right one, he pressed dial and listened to it ring. He had to save Derek, the way his stepbrother had saved him, all those years ago when their families had been combined.
“Hello?”
“Les, it’s Edward Monterrose.”
“Edward, how are you? How’s Gypsy working out for you?” the ex-show rider asked, referring to the horse he’d trained for Edward.
Les Hardin’s voice was a welcome sound and Edward allowed relief to swamp him. Les had been a friend since he competed with Edward in horse shows. It was show jumping’s loss when Les had to retire due to injury.
“Gypsy’s doing great, Les. Working with you really straightened both of us out.”
He rubbed his forehead and sat at Derek’s oak desk. Staring around the room, he noticed how bare it was. Decorated by one of the city’s top interior designers, the entire house, except Derek’s bedroom, had a showcase look-as if no one lived there and it was only for display.
“You sound worried, Edward. How can I help you?”
God, if Les could hear his concern over the phone, he must not be handling Derek’s problems as well as he thought.
“You remember my stepbrother, Derek?”
A rustling came over the phone like Les was settling into a chair or something.
“Yes, I do. He’s hit the big time now with his singing. Tell him congratulations when you see him next. I like his stuff.”
“Well, he’s the reason I’m calling. His last tour just ended and he’s not doing so hot. In fact, the doctor forced his manager and record company to give him a vacation. He’s strung out. I was wondering if I could send him out to your ranch for three months. I know you won’t bother him and he can recover there. I can’t watch over him because I have a ton of horse shows to compete in the next several months.”
Something in the tone of Edward’s voice must have alerted Les.
“There’s another reason why you want him to come here. What makes my ranch the place for Derek?”
Edward gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to break Derek’s confidence, but he also trusted Les not to spill the secret to anyone.
“Derek’s gay, Les. He needs a place where he knows he doesn’t have to hide that part of himself. I’m not saying he’ll turn into a flaming queen or anything, but if he has one less thing to hide, he might be able to relax enough to actually heal.”
“Gay, huh?” Les chuckled. “I can hear female hearts breaking all over the country if word of that got out.”
“And millions of happy gay boys will be over the moon at the thought of him playing for their team.”
“True.” Les was silent for a moment. “Let me see what I can do. Randy and I are taking off for a couple of weeks. Tony’s nephew is competing in Germany and we’re all heading over there to support him.”
Disappointment rose in him. “I understand, Les. I’ll try to figure somewhere else. If I don’t send him somewhere no one can find him, they won’t let him rest.”
“Oh, I’m not saying he can’t come. I just need to work something out. I’m not sure my ranch is the best place for him anyway. Too many people come and go here, but maybe Tony and Brody would be willing to let him stay at their place while we’re all in Germany.”
“I would appreciate anything you could do or even suggest to me, Les. I don’t want to lose him. He’s my only real family.”
“Give me a few minutes and I’ll call you back.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
He hung up and set his phone on the desk. He didn’t want to go and face Derek until he had a plan in place to help him. True to his words, Les called back a few minutes later.
“Brody said to send him out. Derek can use the main house and they’ll have their foreman to keep an eye on him. No one will bother him, and hopefully the clean air of Wyoming will help clear his mind.”
“Thanks. I owe you big.”
“No, you don’t. Friends help each other and I have a favor to ask of you. While you’re at the shows, can you keep your eye out for a couple young horses? I’m looking to pick up a few more for Juan.”
“I can do that. Thanks again.”
“No problem. Call me with the flight plans and I’ll be there to pick Derek up at the airport.”
Edward hung up, feeling better about his brother’s chances.
*
Eddie returned to the living room and sat on the coffee table again. Derek had moved to the couch. Staring at his brother, he wished Eddie would leave so he could get back to bed.
“Here’s the deal. In two days, you’re going to fly to Cheyenne, Wyoming. A friend of mine is going to meet you there.”
He looked at Eddie in mock surprise. “You’re sending me to ranch country. No one will recognize me there.”
Eddie flipped him the finger. “You’ll be staying at the RM ranch. Tony Romanos and Brody MacCafferty are friends of my friend and are willing to let you stay at their place.”
“Brody MacCafferty?” He chuckled. “He used to do some bodyguard work for me.”
“Good. Brody and Tony won’t be there, but their foreman will be. If you need anything, he’ll be around to help.”
Eddie looked thrilled to have found someplace for Derek to go. Derek didn’t care. He just wanted somewhere he could sleep, veg out and hopefully write a song or two.
“How does your friend’s foreman feel about babysitting me?” He rolled over on to his back, studying the tiles on the ceiling.
“Les said he was fine with it.” Eddie put his hand on Derek’s arm. “So you’ll go?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Derek laughed. Hell, he was a country singer who’d never spent time out in the country or on a ranch. It might be interesting to see an actual working ranch. All those cowboys would be food for fantasy and song.
