Page 54 of Bad Cowboy, Tennessee

“Oh. Sorry to hear that,” Andrew said.

“We’re friendly. It’s fine.”

“Would you like the Radler, the shandy, or a standard summer ale?” I asked Draven, abruptly changing the topic.

“Trying to put a beer in my hand so I’ll leave?”

“Just trying to serve a customer.”

“Cute video you filmed earlier,” Draven told me. “Bet your followers will love it.”

He wouldn’t take his eyes off me. My cock was already perking up, thinking of every awful thing Draven had sent me.

The pictures of the outline of his cock.

And where I’d been yesterday, just inches away from it.

My body had somehow gotten addicted to the feeling of complete and utter frustration.

“Watch out. Keg coming in.”

It was Kane, wheeling another beer keg into the side of the tent.Thank fuckin’ Christ.Having Kane around always felt like having a true adult in the room—I was 22, but Kane had to be in his early 40s, not that I’d ever asked.

He owned the Hard Spot, and he ran it well.

He always had the right answer to everything.

And if Draven tried to pull any weird shit, Kane wouldn’t let it happen.

“Still plenty of space in the corner,” I said, moving a couple of cardboard boxes to the side so that he could slide in the extra keg. He situated it, got it off the cart, and stood back up, looking toward the front of the tent.

“Draven,” Kane said, a rare smile coming over his gruff face. “Glad you’re here.”

“Didn’t want to miss it,” Draven said, nodding.

Sorry.

What?

How the fuck do they even know each other that well?

Kane gave Draven a nod back. “How’s the house so far? Did you fix the main bath?”

“It’s nearly there,” Draven told him. “The leak is fixed, now it just needs a new shower fixture and it’s good to go.”

“You’re going to make that place shine. Okay. I’ve got one more keg to bring out, and you’re going to love it. It’s the first of the October Oak Ale you tried.”

“Idolove that.”

“Be right back out with it.”

I turned and gave Andrew a confused look.

Kane had been downright friendly to Draven. He’dsmiled. He was usually the biggest grump in all of Bestens, but not only did he somehow seem to know Draven already—he was acting like they were friends.

“Since when do you know Kane?” I asked Draven.

“There are nights when youdon’tbartend at the Hard Spot,” Draven said. “Kane was very happy to have me there last night. We talked about you.”

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