Page 7 of Bad Cowboy, Tennessee

I spit right in his face.

He flinched. For the first time, something had caught him by surprise.

His pupils flared. Rage, at first, followed by a half-lidded gaze.

“Didn't expect that out of you,” he said. “I like that.”

Something thrummed inside me.

I’m not fucking backing down.

“Who are you?” I repeated, the fear momentarily gone from my voice, replaced with raw adrenaline and spite.

He dipped lower to one side, his breath on my skin.

My thoughts were drifting again.His fucking breath. Why does it smell so good, and sweet? Tangerine?

“I’m Draven,” he said in a low rumble. “Your sister’s boyfriend. Is this how you welcome houseguests to Tennessee, Max?”

He let goof my wrists a second later, lifting off of me.

The moment I was freed, I bolted into action, putting as much distance between us as possible. I scooted back on my ass on the porch, reaching for my hockey stick and pressing my back up against the wall.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said, eyeing the hockey stick.

I jumped a little as I saw a white fluff in quick motion. Misty the cat, finally whizzing past the porch and running behind a bush.

Draven grinned.

My nerves were still shot through with adrenaline. I couldn’t even process it. How could he be smiling, acting so calm and casual?

“What is wrong with you?” I asked the man.Draven.

This is Lily’s fucking boyfriend?

He brushed off his pants as he rose to his feet. “You came at me with a stick.”

“You fucking choked me.”

“Well, that part was just for fun. You have averychokable neck. And you smelled like good whiskey, which is not easy for me to resist.”

My stomach felt like an anvil.Sadistic fucking bastard.My eyes had fully adjusted now, and I could see that he was wearing a tight white shirt under his black work shirt. He cocked his headto one side, looking me over, like we’d just high-fived instead of ending up on the goddamn ground.

“I thought you were a stalker,” I said.

He furrowed his brow, his expression suddenly serious. “You have people stalking you? Who?”

“People less fucked up than you, apparently.”

His jaw was chiseled. Like he’d just stepped out of a Western movie where he was undoubtedly the one on aMost Wantedposter.

“If a guy like you has a stalker, then I’m the least of your problems,” he said.

“You’re out of your mind,” I told him. I wished the slight waver in my voice wasn’t so obvious. “Could have killed me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

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