Page 17 of Bad Cowboy, Tennessee

It had to be the only reason why my cock had responded when things got intense with Draven. Why I’d comealive, once I started trying to fight.

And against my better judgment, I couldn’t be dishonest with anyone. Not even Draven.

Max

Fine. Yes. I liked it. But I was also terrified, and I still don’t trust you.

Draven

Good boy. Thanks for the honesty.

Call me good boy again and I’ll kill us both.

Why? Did reading it make your cock too hard all over again?

Quit talking about my dick. You’re Lily’s boyfriend.

Not exactly her boyfriend at this point.

I didn’t know what the hell he meant by that last comment, but my whole body was heated at this point, and I had shit to do around the bar.

Ugh.

Fuck it. Not wasting time on him or any provocative things he says.

I muted the text conversation before sliding my phone back over to my friends, because they didn’t need to see a goddamn word of this.

I opened my video comments back up again and they scrolled through those for a few more minutes, keeping themselves entertained.

I tried to act normal even though it felt impossible. I walked over and greeted an older couple on the other end of the bar, making them a vodka cranberry and a standard gin and tonic.

Back into the regular routine.

My life hasn’t changed just because of one weird night, and it’s not going to change because of people watching me online.

Andrew was laughing again when I made my way back to the other end of the bar.

“This guyNedHedd3said he’d pay a hundred bucks if you send him a fully naked pic. You gonna do it, Burnett?”

I smiled. “He’d have to pay a lot more than that.”

“What, like, a hundred andfivebucks?” Mason teased.

“You’d do it for free, babe, and we both know it,” Jesse told him, leaning in to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek.

Robbie shook his head. “Go be lovebirds somewhere else. Andrew and I are trying to hang out without catching stray precum from your guys’ constant love-boners.”

Jesse cackled. “How do you think precum works, dude? You think it’s going to shoot out of my pants just because Mason makes me?—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Andrew said, holding up a hand.

“You should listen to him,” I said.

“Why?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Because football players are always smarter than hockey players.”

I caught daggers from Jesse and Robbie across the bar for that one.

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