Dai thought about it. Hesitated. Pondered. Wavered. Then he stupidly glanced across the room again, at the glaringly out of place but goddamn so hot cowboy standing by the bar chatting easily with the bartender. He shouldn’t go there, shouldn’t risk it, shouldn’t waste his time. He didn’t need the publicity that would come by getting punched in the face by the guy.
But he was sure he’d seen the man checking him out, and he was hot as hell and like the tallet guy in the room. When they’d been introduced and talked for all of five seconds, Dai had practically needed to crane his neck just to look up at the guy. Not that he’d minded. Some guys had issues being short, but Dai mostly didn’t.
Sighing at himself, blaming it on the alochol even though he probably wouldn’t even finish his first beer, he turned to Cassidy and said, “So who’s the cowboy? Cooper, right?”
Cassidy looked surprised, and glanced reflexively toward Cooper. “Yeah, Cooper Stone. He’s, uh, I think Mal said he’s the fiddler? Hang on. Mal!”
Dai cringed, cause he hadn’t meant to draw that much attention to the fact he was asking. Malcolm came over, though, smiling in a silly, soppy way that Dai tried hard to hate but really only envied. No one looked at him like, ever, and probably never would. And if they did, Dai would get dead, cause soppy and Forever and a Dai did not belong in the same magazine spread.
“Your cowboy friend–fiddler, right?”
Malcolm glanced toward Cooper, then turned back and nodded. “Yeah, fiddler. Not what he started out doing, though. He fell into music accidentally, after he fell out of bullriding.”
Dai choked on his beer, and hastily set the bottle aside. “He did that? People actually do that?”
Laughing, Malcolm turned to him, and a knowing smirk suddenly curved his mouth. Honestly, he was pretty as hell and Dai could see why Cass was smitten, but if he didn’t lose that smirk–
“Yeah, people actually do that. Coop never talks much about it, but I’ve heard he wasn’t half-bad. Fiddling was just a hobby. He was roped into helping out some guys, and next thing you know, Shine the Moon is topping country charts.”
“Shine the Moon?” Dai repeated, unable to decide if that was cool or lame. Well, it wasn’t as bad as Forever and a Dai, and he never should have let Jet call them something so stupid but that was an old complaint.
“Anything else you want to know?” Malcolm asked, and damn it, now Cassidy was looking all smug and knowing.
Dai flipped them both off. “Only why I put up with you two. Later, butterfly and boytoy.” He made his way through the crowded room, heart beating way too fast in his chest, cause he so should not be thinking of doing something so stupid.
Rockstar Dai might be all risk taking and fuck’em all, but man, he’d really only agreed to the whole band thing cause he was sure they’d never make it. The odds were against. He so should have known that Jet would beat the odds, and it was hardly a bad life. He couldn’t complain.
But jeez, sometimes a guy just wanted to chill and read a book and oggle a cowboy.
He strode up to the bar and requested a fresh beer, having purposefully left his barely-touched one behind. Unable to resist, he glanced–and definitely caught Cooper staring. Dai swallowed, nervous and excited and hopeful and man if his agent ever caught wind of this he was so going to wake up dead.
Thanking the bartender, he took a nervous sip, then glanced toward Cooper again–and yet again, caught the man staring.
Except, this time Cooper pushed away from the bar and turned to walk away.
No, no, no. Panic set in, and Dai moved, followed him. A no was all he might get, but that was better than never asking and damn it, that ass was worth asking after. He was Dai of Forever and a Dai. He was a fucking rockstar, and like Jet always said, when Dai could actually be bothered to want something–stay out of his way.
He caught up to Cooper, got past him, then whipped around, forcing Cooper to stop or crash into him. Tamping down on nerves, he summoned what Jet called his Gets the Panties Smile and said, “So is it true you used to be a bullrider?”
Surprise filled Cooper’s handsome face, and probably it was the last thing he’d expected Dai to say, but offbalance–that was good. “Uh–yeah. Is Malcolm telling tales again?”
That drawl was something else. Dai had always thought all country-type accents were the same, but Cooper sounded nothing like Ricky, who was from Kentucky.
“Yeah,” Dai said. “He laughed when I was surprised that was real. I thought bullriding was made up, cause what sort of person would actually ride bulls? Cow is for eating, not riding.”
Cooper looked startled for a moment–then grinned in a slow, bright, genuine way that went straight to Dai’s cock, but also made him feel something he didn’t like to describe as warm and fuzzy, but he couldn’t think of another way. “Cowboy is the sort of person to ride a bull. Cows are good for more than just eating.”
Dai smirked, even though he wanted to grin like an idiot, cause so far he hadn’t screwed up. Not that it was hard to find someone willing to sleep with him–but he pretty much never wanted to, because none of them mattered. Somehow, getting Cooper mattered. “Yeah, they’re good for leather. Is that why you keep staring at me? Admiring my leather?”
“Uh–” Cooper blinked, looked equal parts surprised, mortified, and wary. But there was also a bit of hope, and Dai could so work with that.
Before Cooper could figure out what exactly to say, Dai plunged on in what Jet called his suicidal fashion (not that Jet had any room to talk, not even a smidgen of wiggle room), “Or were you starting at my ass because you were thinking of riding? Cause I’m not opposed to that, especially if you suck me off first.”
Cooper’s cheeks flushed, but he didn’t back down or bluster or cower. He just met Dai’s eyes and replied in that smoky drawl of his, “Now that’s the best offer I’ve had in a month of Sundays.”
Dai just smirked again, and cocked his head to a door nearby, which led to the backrooms of the fancy, exclusive club they were in. “Follow me, cowboy.”
“Why do I feel like the fiddler who took the devil’s bet?” Cooper asked.
“Hey, I know that song. How do I know that song?” Dai said, looking over his shoulder. “Didn’t the fiddler win that bet?”
Cooper grinned. “He did, at that.”
Smiling back, Dai opened the door and yanked Cooper through, then slammed it shut and yanked him close. “Then stop complaining and give the Devil his due.”
Cooper laughed and bent to kiss him, and Dai hadn’t been this happy about taking a chance since Jet’s crazy rockstar plans had actually worked.