Page 78 of Bad Cowboy, Tennessee

He paused for a moment, then finally relented. “Okay.”

Chapter 13

Max

Draven opened up his front door the moment I stepped in front of it, as if he’d been waiting for me to arrive.

He looked like he must have just finished a workout. He’d clearly just showered, his hair still falling in damp, dark waves around his face.

He motioned for me to come inside and then closed the front door behind us.

He was shirtless and had loose black sweatpants on, slung low around his waist so that the V-shape at his lower torso was more visible than ever. Draven always looked strong but right now he looked like a Greek god—his golden skin chiseled from marble, his tattoos adorning him in intricate, beautiful patterns.

“Everything’s fine,” I assured him. “I called Kane, and he said there’s nobody he doesn’t recognize at the bar tonight.”

“Take off your shoes,” Draven said. “Finally got all my floors cleaned yesterday. Couch still hasn’t arrived, because I imported it from Italy, and shipping’s a bitch. All I have is the bed. Come lie down with me.”

He was barking out commands like a goddamn drill sergeant.

I kicked off my shoes, leaving them by the door and walking in through the living room.

“You propositioning me?” I asked.

He raised his eyebrows slightly. “If you want me to fuck you, then yes.”

His house was all dark wood. I’d seen Mr. Marsden’s old house many times over the course of my life, but ever since he’d moved out of this one and into a new one, it was like this house remained a time capsule from another era.

Draven had been putting his touch onto every corner of it, though. The first thing I noticed was that it smelled incredible in here, like a mixture of his spiced body wash from his recent shower and a flickering candle I saw burning over in the kitchen. He’d knocked down the wall that used to separate the dining room from the living room, which had been flimsy drywall—one of the things that had always looked so out of place in an otherwise wooden house.

The light probably looked ten times better in here during the daytime now.

I glanced over at the kitchen again as we walked past it and noticed another telltale sign of Draven. There were more than a few bottles of whiskey near the edge of the countertop, in various states of fullness.

He stopped to grab a glass that was half full of amber liquid before continuing on down the hall.

So you drink whiskey after a workout and shower. No wonder you made fun of my electrolytes.

He continued briskly down the hall, but I paused at the start of it, watching him.

“Why were you so freaked out about the DMs you saw earlier? How did you knowthatparticular guy would be a problem?”

He stopped and turned, looking me up and down. “Just a hunch.”

“Bullshit.”

“Listen, I don’t know the difference between that guy and any other, but his commenting history was vile.”

“You were looking through things that thoroughly?”

He furrowed his brow. “I’m not fucking around, Max. You’re not getting hurt on my watch.”

He turned and disappeared into the bedroom. I let out a sigh, frustrated all over again.

I didn’t know why Draven had decided to take me on as his pet project. Why he wasted his time on me.

Why a guy like him would have any interest in me at all was incomprehensible, but somehow, he kept showing up.

I’d hadgirlfriendsin the past who hadn’t paid this much attention to me.

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