Free Desire (Montana Dreams Book 3) by Cait Jarrod Page A

she left Divine accentuated in the car as she drove to the bar on the outskirts of town. The place no one talks about, the place where the roughest crowds mix. Not her usual type of bar to pick up a man, but desperate times brought on stupid acts. Even knowing this, she opened her car door, smoothed down her jeans, and tucked in her long-sleeved cotton shirt. Changing out of what she wore to the corral seemed fruitless. Why bother when she’d toss her clothes into a pile at first chance?
    Being with Bradley brought back memories of what life had been like before the accident, before she knew her actions didn’t involve just her. The pain, the guilt had to vanish. Bad boys played in bars like these. The acid spiraling through her needed a bad boy, a very bad boy to shove her into a place where what she’d done wasn’t the worse thing she survived.
    When Bradley left her standing in the barn, she succumbed to the storm raging inside. Fell to her knees and cried. It wasn’t until her head pounded, and her nose grew stuffy that she realized this pain had to stop. A new pain to cover up the old . Some people cut themselves to alleviate the pain, not her, though she thought about it once, years ago. She had believed the reason her mother was never home had to do with her: not getting good enough grades, not keeping her room clean enough, and not living up to her parents’ expectations.
    Thankfully, she chickened out, especially glad when she’d learned of her mother’s affair. Still, the pieces chipped out of her soul from that experienced stayed gone. Somehow for reasons she couldn’t explain, her actions that resulted in losing the baby brought out an ache from deep within and intensified her past ten-fold. Maybe she wasn’t the strong person she thought she’d become. Maybe the fear of not living up to the Lovett parents’ approval tore her apart more than she realized. Whatever the reason, she was done fretting over it.
    Outside the bar, heavy-metal music blasted. Cigarette and cigar smoke, even the smell of marijuana, seeped out of the building seams. Yeah, this was the perfect place to forget. The no-smoking laws didn’t exist, which meant the police must not come around. Taking in a deep breath of Montana air, she opened the door at the end of the building and squinted. Scruffy-headed, bearded men narrowed their dark eyes, barely visible in the low lighting as they puffed on whatever stuck between their fingers.
    Oh, boy . Maybe she did get in over her head. She moved over to the bar, her hands shaking, and plopped on the stool. “A draft whenever you get a chance, please.”
    A man, with a bald eagle and American flag tattooed on his arm, nodded his head and sucked on his upper lip. The scar above his right eye became noticeable as he walked toward her, mug in hand.
    “Are you in the right place?” He placed the mug in front of her and braced his meaty palms on the worn bar.
    She didn’t know what he meant, but the weight in his words and the gleam in his dark eyes insinuated she’d best leave. Burying her pain was one thing, getting killed was another. “Um no. I don’t think I am.” Sliding a five on the counter, she swallowed half her drink. “Thank you,” she said, her voice stronger than a moment ago, and edged backwards off the wooden stool. The bartender, the size of a bear, gazed at something behind her and grimaced. Oh shit!
    “Keep it.” He spun and moved to the other end of the bar without a backward glance. Heavy, hot air hit her, and went straight through her shirt. The foul breath wasn’t the kind that gave a girl tingles. It was the kind that scared a person, disgusted them, enough to vomit. A dull pain grabbed her lower stomach and she doubled over. Holding onto her barstool, she bent over, puked, and rushed for the exit.
    A tattooed covered hand hit the wood door and slammed it in her face.
    “No-o-oo!”
    “Come on, sweetheart.” Cigarette smoke and some other type of odor she