8. Draven
Draven
“ T here you go, son,” the hardware store owner said as he loaded the final batch of wood planks into the bed of my truck.
His nametag said Amos, he was probably in his fifties, and his skin was so tan and weathered it almost matched the shade of the wood.
“That should keep you busy for at least a couple of days.”
“I hope so.”
I’d already told Amos that I didn’t need help bringing the wood to the truck.
Told him I didn’t need help putting it in the truck.
Told him I didn’t need a ten percent off coupon to the Red Fox diner or the bottle of water he’d offered me in the store, either.
But he hadn’t taken no for an answer, helping me load all the wood onto a rolling steel cart and then putting half of it into my vehicle while I took on the rest.
We were outside Bestens Supply, the hardware store on Laurel Ave, a block down from the Hard Spot Saloon.
It was early evening, and the sun had just set behind the mountains, the sky cast in a dusky orange glow.
People were buzzing around like bees outside a hive, setting up food stalls and tents for the Bestens Beer Fest.
It was a nighttime street fair, sure to promise plenty of crowds.
And crowds set off alarm bells in my head.
Stalker alarm bells.
Max, as far as I could tell, still had no sense of self-preservation.
I thought he might start to listen to my advice about personal security, too. But instead, he’d kept saying that his online followers were harmless, and he certainly hadn’t been following my requests to install a security system.
He kept posting shirtless videos online, even after Rex67 —Reggie Sandlefield—had amped up his frequent inappropriate messages.
Max also wouldn’t listen when I told him to stop posting locations on his pictures and videos. Earlier tonight, he’d posted about the Bestens Beer Fest with a caption and location tag:
Come see us tonight at the BBF!
That’s Bestens Beer Fest.
I’ll be slinging cocktails, and if the music is right, maybe I’ll be ditching my shirt as the night goes on.
See you there, Cocktail Bros.
-Max “The Mixer” Burnett
Last night I’d gone to the Hard Spot. Max hadn’t been bartending, and I’d gathered that info, too, finally piecing together what his work schedule was like.
Last night I sat and talked with Kane, the owner of the Hard Spot, for over two hours, and the most shocking thing was that I liked him and he liked me, too. He’d been preparing for tonight’s beer fest.
So far, I couldn’t exactly say I was the biggest fan of Bestens, Tennessee, but…
People were being nice to me.
Not Max, of course.
Max was a different story.
But everyone else in town seemed to treat me with a kindness that kept catching me off guard.
Something that I hadn’t experienced in a long time. Maybe ever.
It made me uncomfortable, like I was getting gifts I’d never asked for, unsure how to respond in turn.
I’d only become a true villain in my hometown over the past year, the incident with Devvy Franklin, as well as another…
unfortunate event that happened at my property and made half the town want to burn me at the stake.
But in my own family?
I’d been a black sheep for my whole life, as far as I could remember. To Dad, especially, who’d never wanted me.
A darker thought crossed my mind.
Maybe I have been a villain to everyone at home, for longer than I ever knew.
I’d always been known as that Lyons kid. The bad seed, the bad apple. In school I’d been the boy everyone’s parents wanted them to avoid, and later on, I’d been worse.
Not that it stopped certain people from coming to my parties, time after time .
There were men who couldn’t look at me in public but would beg for my cock at my house later that night. There were women who would strut around town with their boyfriends in the day but end up naked in the middle of my living room, railed on each end by strangers a week later.
And there were guys who wanted to fight me, and did, when I welcomed it with closed fists.
Sometimes it felt like the only respect I got from them was when we exchanged scars and bruises rather than words.
But nice?
It had been a long time since I’d experienced nice .
“Hey, Dave, if you need any help repairing the old house, my son and I are handy enough,” Amos said now.
“Draven,” I corrected him.
“Right, right,” Amos said, waving a hand through the air. “Draven. Never heard a name like that before.”
“I’ll be fine on my own for the repairs. I like working with my hands.”
He nodded at me. “Hah. Max said you were a good egg. Glad to meet you.”
I paused, glancing back at him. “I’m sorry? Who said that about me?”
“Max Burnett. You were sweet with Lily Burnett, weren’t you? Was sorry to hear things went south with her.”
“Max said I was a good egg, huh?”
“Oh, he came by here a couple of days ago. Needed some replacement bulbs for the bar.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And he said…”
Amos scratched his head. “Said you were new in town. Said you were a good man. Not much else.”
I couldn’t help but let out a quick laugh.
A good man .
I was certain that I wasn’t good, and certain that Max didn’t think so either.
Was that how small-town Bestens worked? Max didn’t trust me but he put in good words for me, anyway?
“Interesting.”
“I’m sure he’ll be at the beer fest,” Amos said. “He runs a sort of beer-cocktail stand. Think he’s been filming it, too. To me, a beer is just a beer, but Max mixes them with… I don’t know. Cherries or lemon or whatever the concoctions are.”
“He does enjoy mixing drinks.”
“Glad you’re making friends in town already, Drave.”
Apparently Amos wasn’t much for names, even if he was the friendliest person I’d met in years.
He gave me a little salute, heading back into his hardware store to help a young couple who had just walked inside.
I was left there out in the narrow parking lot outside the store, my gaze landing on the tents and stalls down the way, past the trees lined with twinkly lights. A gentle breeze blew through the air, carrying the scent of beer through the air.
I pulled out my phone, dialing Dominic back in Montana.
“Evening,” he answered. “Bored in Tennessee yet?”
“Bored isn’t the right word,” I said. “It’s keeping my interest. Anything new with the family?”
“Zero. Your father seems like he’s holding out for the long haul, and your mother… well, she’s your mother.”
I grunted in response.
My mother being my mother meant only two things: she was cold, and she was hollow.
There was more warmth in an icicle than in my mother’s blood.
She’d gotten what she wanted, marrying into wealth.
Once she had that, and four kids—me, the youngest—she was checked out mentally, with no energy left for things that weren’t purchasing jewelry or choosing which champagne to serve at a party.
She wasn’t going to run after me.
I wasn’t a priority.
“If Dad’s going to long-haul me, then I can long-haul it, too,” I said. “Ice him out. I have a house here now, and no reason to leave.”
“Stella and Kate are busy with the merger, but I’m going to talk with them soon.”
Dominic didn’t even mention my brother Xander, because he was basically my father’s mini-me golden boy, more than ready to fill his shoes the moment Dad kicked the bucket.
“I’ll be okay here.”
“Oh. Bonnie came by the other day. Somehow she heard you broke things off with Lily, and she… well, she wants your jock.”
I puffed out a laugh. “Bonnie, huh? She was particularly cock-hungry last time we hooked up.”
“I told her you’re gone for a while,” Dominic said. “Surprised she didn’t text you anyway.”
“I’ll let her down easy.”
“Any hookups on your radar?” Dominic asked.
I spotted Max far down the street, setting up the Hard Spot beer fest tent. He was wearing a loose blue tank top, with the arm holes cut deep and low to expose the muscles of his torso on the sides.
There were already a few men circling near his tent, and my senses perked up, eyeing them like a hawk.
No one touches him but me.
Reining in my thoughts felt like controlling a feral dog.
“No,” I answered. “No hookups in my future. Honestly, I’m just happy that Lily is here. Her brother’s around, too, and he’s like her, but… sweeter.”
“Sweeter than Lily? He must be a fucking Pop Tart.”
I snorted. “Max is like a human Pop Tart. Yes.”
“Sounds like you like him.”
“I’m watching over him.”
“Tell Lily I said hello. She hasn’t spoken to me much since being there.”
Even when Lily and I were dating, she’d always been close with Dom, too. It made sense especially now that Dom would worry about her. He missed her, far more than he missed me.
“I’ll let her know. You’d like her brother, too. He makes all those foo-foo cocktails you suck down every night.”
“He’s a mixologist?” Dominic asked.
“Bingo.”
“I like him already,” he said. “Keep that one close, Draven.”
Max was never truly going to be mine .
His sister was my ex, for one, and while that would never stop me from fucking Max until he was a heap on the floor… I was pretty sure it eliminated me from his prospects, even if he was on a fun little experimentation journey with male attention.
But my desires didn’t listen to logic.
They never did.
And one desire was stronger than all the others, ravenous inside me, one wolf that was gnawing at its leash.
I will protect Max Burnett like he’s my own personal possession.
Maybe it was fueled by guilt.
I couldn’t fix anything in Montana, but…
I could fix something for Max.
Or maybe I really was just thinking with my dick.
Max’s body was like catnip to me. And his attitude was like a drug. Even when he was obviously intimidated by me, or when he told me I was a monster…
He still treated me like I was his equal.
And I liked watching him tear down the restrictions he’d had on his life forever. The things he thought he knew, crumbling, as his sexuality opened up and his world quickly bloomed, spilling open like a rose.
He said he didn’t like change.
But he couldn’t avoid it, and it looked good on him.
“Call me if you hear anything, Dom,” I said before I hung up the phone. “Talk to you later.”
“Any ghost cat sightings lately?” a young, athletic guy was saying to Max.
I was two beers deep. It had been an hour since the festival had started, and I’d been going around to each of the stalls, trying samples and specifically avoiding Max’s tent, even as I kept a close watch on it.
Every time I caught Max smiling, I felt pulled toward his tent by an invisible string.
I was completely fucking addicted to him.
That smile was so charmingly sexy that I really couldn’t believe Max didn’t know his online videos would perform so well.
He was radiant and welcoming, every time he smiled. I liked him so much, already, and I didn’t tend to like anyone.
No wonder a burly, gruff bar owner like Kane wanted Max around.
The Hard Spot tent had string lights hung along the top, with blue and pink backlights coming up from the ground. It looked like a miniature club.
I knew Max had seen me, I knew my presence was driving him crazy, and I liked the idea of making him feel that way for as long as possible.
“Hey, Andrew. No. Ghost cat’s been weirdly missing in action,” Max said to the other guy.
“Haunting somebody else’s bar?”
“I guess so. Hey, want to make a cameo in this video?”
“Fuck yes, I do.”
I took a sip of my beer, looking down for a moment and pretending to be interested in some of the craft IPAs on the table in front of me.
Max still didn’t know I was at the stall next to his.
He was facing mostly in the opposite direction, and when I turned toward him again, he was holding up his phone and filming a video of himself and Andrew.
“Hello, all my cocktail bros, babes, and homies,” Max said, turning on his best social media charm.
“Hello, all of the people who like alcohol and love looking at Max,” Andrew said.
“Oh my God,” Max mumbled, giving Andrew a shove from the side. “Don’t say that. I’m going to restart the video.”
They redid the intro, Andrew introduced himself again, and Max continued on with his video.
“We’re out here at the Bestens Beer Fest, with combos that aren’t your daddy’s beer,” Max was saying. “Ever had a Radler with a candied citron twist or a shandy with a habanero kick? You could find it here. Because, as always: that’s how we do it in Tennessee, baby.”
Fuck, there was something so pure about him. Seemingly innocent, but after my interactions with him, I knew better.
Muscled but soft and curved, masculine but approachable. Nothing like me.
But he enjoyed catching me with my hand around my cock, so…
Maybe a little bit like me.
I downed the rest of my beer, tossed the cup into a recycling bin, and slowly started making my way toward the Hard Spot tent.