Page 13 of Bad Cowboy, Tennessee

“I’ll hire a moving company to take out anything your wife might want.”

He squinted over at me like he was trying to calculate something behind his eyes. A breeze blew past, shaking the leaves in the tall oaks. The scent of far-off honeysuckle came through the air, the same type I’d smelled last night outside Max’s little barn.

I liked that honeysuckle smell.

I fucking liked everything about last night.

Taking down Lily’s brother outside was almost… comfortable. Too comfortable.

It was the only slice of something like violence I’d gotten so far here, and the craving was almost too enormous to handle. Max had seemed scared, but when we were on the ground, I could see the same streak of craving in him that I saw in myself.He enjoyed it. Some part of it. Even if he’d turn blue in the face denying it.

He liked getting physical.

I’d wanted more.

I’d wanted to pin him down again.

Coax more precum from that thick, desperate cock I’d gotten a glimpse of through his pants.

Watch him try and fail to break free.

Find out what else got his blood pumping.

I stopped that line of thinking.

No need to make that type of mistake yet.

“Cash, huh?” Mr. Marsden said, peering at me.

“Cash.”

He looked down at the weeds on the lawn. “Well, maybe that could speed up the process.”

“Mr. Marsden, I’m ready to give you double the asking price in cash to get this place as soon as possible.”

“Hah,” he said, then realized I wasn’t joking. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lyons. But may I ask why you want this old junk heap of a place badly enough to pay double and need itthatfast?”

I clicked my tongue. “Not much of a salesman, are you?”

He shrugged. “Well, no, I’m not, if you want the truth. I’m honest.”

“I think people down here are a little too honest.”

He nodded, reaching in his pocket and pulling out another cigarette. “Maybe true,” he said, leaning over and lighting it, the flame flickering in the breeze.“Maybe true.”

I gazed out over the plot of land. Right now the grass was seriously overgrown and dotted with dandelions all over, and the stall barn that apparently used to hold two horses was long since abandoned, the wood fence around it falling down in parts.

Looks like a place to run away to.

“You kept horses?” I asked. “Back when your family lived here?”

“Oh, yes, I always keep horses,” Mr. Marsden said. “We moved to our new property over six years ago now, took the horses along with us.”

“How many did you keep here?”

“Two. Three, before my daughter took hers out to Memphis with her,” he said, nodding over at the stables. “I always keep horses. State of the world how it is right now, I need to ride. Keeps me from… hatin’ everything. You know.”

I pulled in a slow breath. “True words.”

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