Page 63 of Bad Cowboy, Tennessee

Fuck.

He tried to act casual, giving me an upwards nod, but I could tell he was surprised to see me, too.

“Oh, hey, Draven,” he said. Apparently his streak of sudden kindness that began the other night was still in effect. “What can I get for you?”

He popped off his hat and tucked it somewhere beneath the bar, ruffling up his hair and then heading over to wash his hands as he watched me.

I kept my face expressionless. I stood up from the barstool, motioning toward the door. “Was just going to pick up a six-pack and go.”

I never liked lying, but it was a tool I had to use when necessary.

He flashed me a sweet smile, his dimples coming out and making him look even more baby faced.

“You don’t have to leave. Nonsense. Pop a squat. I’m trying out samples of a whiskey tamarind drink tonight.”

Why are you doing this again?

Small-town friendly hospitality, even though I’d never done a damn thing to deserve a moment of that.

He’d filmed tonight’s video in his barn, which was another reason I’d guessed he probably wasn’t going to be working at the bar tonight.

But now here he was.

In front of me.

One aching desire racing through me like a pack of rabid wolves I had to keep at bay in my mind:

I want to fuck you so hard we both break.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m just going to head out. Have a good night, Max.”

“No,” Max said, more insistent than I’d ever heard him. I turned to look at him and saw a quiet desperation in his eyes.

Did he have something to prove?

Like now it was his task to show me just how welcoming he could be?

“What is it?” I asked, trying to keep my tone even, not wanting to show how frustrated I truly was.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he said.

His voice was almost pleading, and it went straight to my cock. His eyes were wide and so goddamnblue, driving me insane. Max was used to a quiet little life around here in Bestens where everyone was nice and everyone would graciously do what he asked, but…

To me, it seemed a whole lot like begging.

And I liked the way that looked on him.

I’d just come a little while ago and yet I was rapidly hardening under my pants now, for a straight frat boy in a town where I didn’t belong.

No.

“I’ll see you around.”

I turned and went for the front doors. The evening air outside was still a little warm, and the moment the front door closed behind me I felt a mix of relief and disappointment. I walked forward and almost collided with a woman jogging, and felt even stranger when she just smiled and waved, running off down the cobblestoned intersection.

I felt a pressure building inside me that had no outlet. When my outlet used to be violent. Or depraved. Or so many things that had ruined my life.

I dimly registered the sound of the bar doors behind me opening up again, but I ignored them, looking up at the setting sun.

---