Page 21 of Bad Cowboy, Tennessee

And then I’d caught myself, realizing what I’d look like if anybody happened to catch me there, standing with Draven’s fucking shirt at my nose, inhaling him like he was a drug.

I dropped the shirt in an instant and left the empty house, my balls aching.

Definitely the straightest guy in Bestens.

No doubt about it.

I got busy again at the bar as our soda supplier came in with a large shipment of boxes. As I helped unload, I tried shoving every thought of Draven out of my mind.

Chapter 4

Draven

“Whiskey.”

“Any chaser?”

I sat down on the bar stool. “A second whiskey.”

The burly, hairy man behind the bar gave me a nod of approval.

My eyes scanned the interior of the bar, looking for exactly two things:

I needed to find Max Burnett, firstly.

But I also needed to take care of my increasingly needy cock.

I’d taken care of finding a house, a plot of land, and even got lucky on a lead about buying a horse.

Tonight the last unmet need I had to fulfill was finding someone to fuck.

I could feel it, building beneath my skin, like an aching sunburn from the inside.

The Hard Spot Saloon somehow managed to look like a dive bar and a homey cabin all at once. It was all hardwood and dim lighting, another perfect hideaway in this small town. It wasearly evening and the place wasn’t anywhere near full, but if the pictures on the wall were any indication, the place would likely get rowdy at night.

I could find someone in this bar who would gladly take my cock, and I needed to press the reset button inside me before my desires started to spill over into something bad.

I scanned the room again, glancing around the bookshelves and pool tables. I’d probably have to wait until a little later if I wanted any chance at blending in.

Looking at Max’s videos had gotten me pent up earlier, and being out of Montana had started the process.

The fact that no oneknewme here in Tennessee?

That was the best part of it all.

I’d already seen the way people looked at me here. Growing up, I’d always been told I was good-looking, and even back home where people expected it, I could still feel eyes land on me when I walked into a room.

Here, though, people weren’t used to seeing anybody other than locals.

They really noticed me.

A woman had gasped when she looked up and saw my eyes earlier at a convenience store. “Holy Bejeezus,” she’d said. “Those are green.”

That was the reaction I was hoping to get from someone in this bar tonight, while I kept a close watch on Max, too.

I was one sip deep into my whiskey when I looked up toward the back hallway and saw that item number one on my to-do list was right here in front of me.

“Max,” I said as he came walking out.

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