Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Pretending there was a ghost cat made me happy, and our customers loved it, too. Sometimes it was just a joke, other times I swore it was real.
“Only thing that’s going to be revolving is the doorway full of gay dudes in Max’s comments,” Andrew said. “Brings new meaning to the name Cocktail bro.”
There was no chance I was the “straightest” guy my friends knew.
A dark thought tugged at the corners of my mind.
Something I wasn’t going to share with the guys.
This morning, I’d jogged over toward my parents’ place. I’d been hoping to find Lily and talk to her one-on-one. Tell her what happened with Draven, and warn her, and inevitably have her ignore my warnings.
But my parents’ entire house was empty. When I went into the guest bedroom, Lily and Draven had both already left for the day, too.
And then on top of the guest room dresser, I’d caught a glimpse of black.
The work shirt that Draven had been wearing last night.
Next to it, there was a small stack of crisp hundred dollar bills that he’d left there, and on top of them, a black switchblade acting as a paperweight.
I reached out and grabbed the shirt in my fist, feeling the undoubtedly expensive, fine material in my hands.
I brought it up to my nose.
I inhaled deeply, bringing in that intoxicating scent. A little bit of vanilla, a little bit of warm clove, and even a hint of whiskey.
Why, why, why am I cursed and blessed with a sensitive nose and tongue?
It was why I had a way with unique cocktail recipes, but… taste and scent could also do wild things to me. And as I smelled Draven’s, first I felt a hot flare of anger.
Selfish fucking asshole.
Terrifying me and then reveling in my fear.
My powerlessness.
And then I took another breath, and the image of his tongue ring flashed back into my mind.
I started to get hard again.
Not a half-chub. Not a coincidental mistake.
I had gotten hard, taking in Draven’s scent, and there was no chance it was just from adrenaline this time. I’d always thought tongue rings on girls were pretty hot, but Draven certainly wasn’t a girl.
For fuck’s sake.
A deep, confused guilt rolled in. His scent was distinctly masculine, too, sharp and imposing at first, but with something soft in the background. Something way too inviting.
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 was early 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 one knew me 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.”