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)
Something close to a smile tugged at one corner of my lips.
The spot on my wrist where the frat boy got feral last night and sank his teeth into my skin.
I met Mr. Marsden’s gaze. “Do you know where the Hard Spot Saloon is?”
“Hard Spot’s at the center of town. Laurel Ave. Across from the diner. If you head on down there, tell Kane he owes me a bag of mulch, though.”
“Right. I can meet up with you tomorrow. I’ll have the cash in my account.”
“Cash,” he said. “Well, hell. I hope to hear from you then, Mr. Lyons.”
I hopped into my truck and headed down toward the center of town.
I’d been keeping an eye on Max’s little barn house last night and this morning. When he mentioned having a stalker, I’d also found his online videos. He called himself The Cocktail Bro, and was catching quite a lot of attention lately due to some shirtless videos.
I scanned the comments all morning. People wanted to fuck him, of course, for the same reason I did. He was 22, blue-eyed, and an unbelievably hot piece of gym-bunny ass.
At the end of each of his videos, he said in his slight southern accent: “That’s how we do it in Tennessee, baby.” Always with a gorgeous golden-boy smile on his face.
It made my cock hard each time I rewatched it this morning.
But there were a few more alarming commenters. Guys I added to a list, to keep watch of their profiles. Rex67, blowbad, stunner_3, and HenryGia were the first ones.
He’d put his full name, Max Burnett, in his biography.
He also regularly filmed in the bar where he worked.
No sense of security. Too innocent for that.
But If anyone threatened Max, I was going to know. Anyone other than me, of course.
I looked out over the small house one more time, knowing the work I had ahead of me.
Good.
If I had to be out of Montana, far from every crime I’d committed, away from the wealth and bloodline that had been my palace and my prison for my entire life?
I was going to need a project.
I was going to need an obsession.
Chapter 3
Max
“Someone from Iceland commented on my video,” I said, scrolling through the increasingly populated list of comments on my phone.
I’d started up The Cocktail Bro page just for fun, and now it was quickly becoming something real. It was thrilling.
I’d never expected more than a dozen mixology nerds to give a damn about my posts, but now I actually had… fans.
“Why’s that surprising?” Andrew asked. “People in Iceland like cocktails. And hot guys.”
I was behind the bar. I set my phone down on the top of it, sliding it over toward my friends.
Andrew played football at TNU, the local university I’d graduated from last year. He was here sharing a pitcher of beer with Robbie and Jesse, who were seniors on TNU’s hockey team, along with Jesse’s boyfriend Mason.
All four of them crowded around, looking down at my phone.
Then, as they were scrolling around through my video comments, a different message popped up at the top of the screen.
“Whoa. What is this? Does one of your fans have your phone number?”
I reached out for the phone, reading the message.
It was a text, not a video comment.
Unknown Number
So, what was it you liked better, the arm on your neck, or when you were pinned down onto the ground?
My face flashed hot.
I clutched the phone in my hand, rereading it over and over again.
“Who was that?” Andrew asked.
“Oh. Uh, I’m not sure,” I lied.
I knew exactly who it was.
I tapped out a reply.
Max
How did you get my number?
Draven
Calm down. Lily gave it to me. So what part did you like best?
When you knocked me onto the ground on my front porch? I’d say the best part was fantasizing about getting you thrown in jail.
Really? You didn’t have fun?
My idea of fun is playing pool or chatting with friends. Not everyone’s a violence whore like you.
Well, you clearly liked some part of it. Your grey sweatpants seemed to think so.
Die, please.
Most people don’t act like that. Or react like that.
Like…?
Down to fight. You came at me, but you also bit me. Spit in my face. Seemed to enjoy an arm against your neck. All of that, and then the precum…
The phone suddenly felt like a live grenade in my hands.
There were two things at war inside me: my compulsive need to be honest all the time, and my own good common sense.
If I was being honest?
Yes. There were some things I liked about it.
I wasn’t a fighter, and it was true that I would never seek out violence. But the incident with Draven was the first thrilling thing that had happened to me in…
In a very long time.
Forever, maybe.
My life had been simple, easy, and routine since the day I was born.