Shooting Star

A Total-E-Bound Publication

www.total-e-bound.com

Shooting Star

ISBN #
978-0-85715-589-4

©Copyright Carol Lynne 2011

Cover Art by April Martinez ©Copyright July 2011

Edited by Claire Siemaszkiewicz

Total-E-Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved.
 
No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing.
 
Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2011 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank,
Ruston
Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

Warning:
 
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers.
 
This story has been rated
Total-e-burning.

Cattle Valley

SHOOTING STAR

Carol Lynne

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following
wordmarks
mentioned in this work of fiction:

Stetson: John B. Stetson Company

Ford F250: Ford Motor Company

Michelob: Anheuser-Busch, Incorporated

Jack Daniels: Jack Daniel's Properties, Inc

Earl Grey Tea: Demeter F.L. Inc.

True Grit: Paramount Pictures

Range Rover: Land Rover Corporation

Pontiac Crossfire: General Motors Corporation

Chapter One

With Ezra James’ birthday barbecue in full swing,
Brac
Riesling tried to stick to the shadows. Everyone he’d met since arriving in Cattle Valley had been incredibly nice, but
Brac
was starting to tire of always being on his best behaviour. Not that he wanted to fart or burp, but if the occasion arose, it would be nice to know it could pass without ending up in the gossip rags.

He took another sip of his beer and stared out at the grazing cattle in the pasture. The tableau in front of him reminded him of home. Although he rarely got home to Iowa, he thought of it daily.

At first his parents had been thrilled that
Brac
had managed to make a name for himself in Hollywood. Landing a coveted role on the top rated soap opera of all time had pushed him into the public eye, but it wasn’t until he’d been named one of the sexiest actors in Hollywood that the reporters began digging into his personal life. When news of his homosexuality broke,
Brac
had tried to lay low. Unfortunately the reports refused to let the story die without wanting every detail. They’d shown up at his family farm, and taped his parents without them even knowing it, all in an effort to get an exclusive story.
Brac
had paid a lot of money to have a tall fence constructed around the majority of the property, but it had done little to ease his parents’ peace of mind. He would have loved to go home more often, but reporters tended to follow him. In an effort to save what was left of his relationship with his folks, Bob and Carol Hostetler, he’d been relegated to a once-a-year visit in January.

Brac
walked closer to the heavy decorative wooden fence that separated the ranch and yard from the pasture. After setting his empty plastic cup on the ground, he climbed up and sat on the top of a thin, two-by-four-inch board. It took a few moments to get comfortable, but with his feet resting on the next board down,
Brac
finally managed it.

After inhaling,
Brac
grinned. “Smells like home,” he whispered to the clear evening sky.

“Better watch yourself. There’s a bull in that pasture that would love nothing more than to knock you off that fence and stomp you to the ground.”

Brac
glanced over his shoulder. “What’s his name?” he asked the stranger.

“Midnight,” the handsome man said. He stuck out his hand. “I’m
Jax
Brolin
, foreman of the EZ Does It.”

Brac
climbed down from the fence and shook
Jax’s
hand.
“
Brac
.”
He stared back out towards the field. “Midnight’s a pretty name.”

“Sure is, but his full name is Midnight Massacre.”
Jax
chuckled.
“Just kidding.
He’s not like the bulls at the Back Breaker. Midnight’s more of a lover if you know what I mean?”

“So if he were to actually knock me off the fence and stomp me to the ground, he’d at least lick me afterwards?”
Brac
smiled. “It might be worth it. I’ve had a bit of a dry spell lately.” As soon as he’d said it,
Brac
winced. Talking too much was how he always managed to get himself into trouble. “You know I was just kidding, right?”

Jax
slapped
Brac’s
shoulder. “Relax. You don’t have to be on guard here. We’re a laid-back bunch. No one’s going to run to the press. Hell, most of us hate those fuckers.”

“Because of what happened two years ago?”
Brac
hated to get nosey, but he doubted there were many gay men in the country
who
hadn’t been glued to the unfolding story of the grandstand collapse. Out in the real world the town of Cattle Valley was whispered about in gay circles, almost like an imaginary place.

“Yep.”
Jax
glanced up at
Brac
from underneath his black Stetson. “We’re a pretty private group of people. The accident hit us hard, but it was the reporters traipsing around town, trying to dig up dirt, that brought us together.”

Brac
had a feeling he’d just been warned not to pry. “I understand.”

Jax
stared at him for several moments before nodding. “Good.” He gestured towards the partiers behind him. “We lost one of our own in the accident. If you need a place to hide from reporters, you’re welcome here. Last time some nosey
sonofabitch
came around trying to dig up a story on Jim Becker, Ezra ran him off before he could make it up the drive.”
Jax
laughed. “Believe me, when someone as big as Ezra runs you off, you don’t come back.”

“Thanks.”
Brac
was surprised by the offer, but appreciative. “It’s Kit I worry about. I’ve spent the last nine years being photographed and lied about, but it’s all new to her.” He wanted to make sure
Jax
knew the truth of the situation. If the man had offered him refuge, it was the least he could do. “There’s nothing going on between us. Kit’s my best friend, and I’ll do anything to make sure it stays that way.”

Jax
shook his head. “No need to explain. Just thought I’d put the offer on the table.”

“I appreciate that.”

Jax
gave a tip of his cowboy hat before walking off.
Brac
watched the retreating man until he disappeared in the crowd. He turned back to the pasture and leaned his forearms against the top rail, thinking over
Jax’s
offer.

“You should go back to the party,” a deep voice said from behind him.

Brac
glanced over his shoulder to find Al Jessup, the deputy assigned to protect him from the paparazzi while he was in town. He returned his attention to the pasture. “I’m sure everyone’s real nice, but I’ve been to enough parties to last a lifetime. Besides, I bet the reporters are still scurrying around Malibu trying to find me.”

When Jessup didn’t reply,
Brac
assumed he’d given up and gone back to the party. The sun had dropped below the horizon, thrusting the pasture into deep shadow. Eventually,
Brac
decided to go back to the party and show his appreciation for the invitation. He said one last goodbye to the yet unseen Midnight and turned around. He’d taken half a dozen steps before he noticed Jessup, crouched down in the darkness.

“Are you watching me?”
Brac
asked, coming to a stop.

Jessup stood and crossed his arms over his massive chest. “It’s the only reason I came.”

Brac
stepped closer to the deputy. Normally he’d be all over the handsome man, but there was definitely an invisible ‘not interested’ sign pinned to Jessup’s chest. It was obvious by Jessup’s lack of conversation and grumpy expression that he didn’t like
Brac
. “It was Ryan’s idea to assign me to you. If you don’t want the job, tell him.”

“Didn’t say that.”

“Of course you didn’t. You’ve barely spoken to me since we were introduced. Are you like this naturally, or is there something about me you don’t like?”

Although Jessup’s facial expression didn’t change,
Brac
noticed a softening around Jessup’s big brown eyes. “I’m not comfortable around people.”

That was it. No further explanation.
Brac
wondered if he’d ever get more than one sentence answers from the man. “I’m likely to annoy the hell out of you then because it seems I’m constantly surrounded by people. Not that I enjoy it, but it comes with the job.”

Jessup continued to stare at
Brac
. Eventually, he tipped his head in acknowledgement.

Brac
sighed. He’d always had a thing for the strong silent type, but Jessup took it to a whole new level. It sent chills through
Brac’s
body. He reached out and rested a hand on Jessup’s forearm. “Are you uncomfortable around me?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s not just crowds you don’t like,”
Brac
surmised. He dropped his hand back to his side.
“Too bad.”

Brac
started to walk off when Jessup spoke. “People don’t usually touch me.”

Brac
slowed his step but didn’t turn around. “Because you don’t welcome it or because they’re afraid to?”

“A little of both, I think,” Jessup said, following
Brac
.

To say Jessup was socially awkward would have been an understatement, but
Brac
could tell there was a great deal of pain inside the big man. “I don’t know your past, but I think you’d find life a lot easier if you opened yourself up more. Not everyone’s out to hurt you. Some of us just want a simple conversation.” He glanced over his shoulder.
“Maybe more.”

* * * *

From the shadows beside the barn, Jessup watched
Brac
talk easily with a table of people. In the golden glow of the overhead fairy lights,
Brac’s
features mesmerised him. Each time
Brac
laughed gooseflesh broke out on Jessup’s body. He’d mentally replayed their earlier conversation at least twenty times, looking for a clue as to why the man made him feel so much.

Since his release from the Syrian prison that had unjustly contained him for more than three years, Jessup had made it a point not to get involved with people. The overcrowded conditions at the prison had forced him to fight for his safety on a daily basis. Even sleeping was dangerous when housed in a cell with five other men, but it was nothing compared to the treatment he’d received at the hands of prison guards.

Nightmares of his incarceration were still an on-going issue, one he didn’t care to have anyone witness. Jessup ran his hand over the spot on his arm that still tingled from
Brac’s
earlier touch. When he’d first been brought back to the United States, more than nine months earlier, Jessup wouldn’t even allow the military doctors to get close enough to examine him. He’d eventually been found unfit for continued duty and was released from his government contract.

For months he’d wandered the country trying to find peace from the images that continued to haunt him. He’d eventually landed in Cattle Valley, hoping for a fresh start. Despite the welcoming he’d received in the community, Jessup hadn’t been able to let down his guard long enough to really get to know anyone, so why now? What was it about the man across the yard that made him want to try again?

It had been years since he’d owned a television, so
Brac’s
star status meant nothing to him. Perhaps it was the physical contact. Jessup was tempted to lift his arm to his nose to see if
Brac’s
touch had left a smell.

With a disgusted shake of his head, Jessup stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. He’d been given a job by a man he respected. The last thing he needed was to get sidetracked by his awakening libido.

* * * *

Brac
woke to
raised
voices. Unlike the previous days, Hawk’s deep timbre wasn’t moaning in ecstasy—instead he appeared to be arguing with someone.

Brac
threw off the covers and reached for his jeans. The idea of Hawk raising his voice to such a degree disturbed him. The thought of Kit being at the receiving end of Hawk’s anger gutted him.

Racing from the room,
Brac
headed for Kit and Hawk’s bedroom. When he saw the open door and empty room, he changed direction and rushed to the living room. He found Kit on the couch, her arms wrapped around her waist, but no sign of Hawk.

“Where’d he go?” he asked Kit.

“He’s on the porch, yelling at a group of photographers,” Kit whispered.

“Fuck!”
Brac
ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “How’d they find us so fast?”

Kit shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“It does if someone from this town sold us out,”
Brac
countered.

“They didn’t.” She looked up at
Brac
, who was pacing back and forth across the room. “I’m sorry.”

With a sigh,
Brac
sat beside Kit on the couch. He brushed the blonde hair out of her face and kissed her cheek. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I should’ve known better.”
Brac
had enjoyed his few days in Cattle Valley. Sure, he occasionally felt eyes on him as he moved about town, but not once had he been asked for an autograph. “I should go,” he said, rising from the sofa.

“Don’t,” Kit begged, reaching for
Brac’s
hand. “Maybe Ryan can keep the reporters out of town.”

“Oh, sweetie, Ryan can’t set up road blocks just because I can’t take the heat.” Although he hadn’t been fired from
Pirates’ Cove
, he’d been informed his character would be involved in an explosion.
Brac
knew exactly what that meant. The show’s writers would no doubt bandage his character up from head to toe and wait for the outcome of the internal investigation into the alleged harassment charges against
Brac
. If the allegations were found to be true,
Brac
would be fired and another actor brought in to take his place. He’d seen it happen countless times.

“But where will you go?” Kit asked just as Hawk stormed back into the house.

Brac’s
first thought was going home to Iowa, but he quickly ruled that out for obvious reasons. “The foreman at the EZ Does It told me I could hide out there if I needed to.”

“That might not be such a bad idea,” Hawk said. “The important thing is separating you and Kit otherwise I fear the rumours will never die down. Best friends or not, I don’t think Kit could handle winding up in the tabloids as your lover again.”

“Let me make a few calls.”
Brac
squeezed Kit’s hand before letting go. He noticed big tears rolling down Kit’s cheeks and melted. “Don’t cry. No one could keep me from you for long. In another week, there’ll be some other scandal and the reporters will move on. But until then, keeping you out of their nasty games is imperative.”