Free The Heart Knows What the Heart Wants by Lori L. Clark Page A

did she look like?" Neona asked.
    "Big eyes, long dark hair, whiney voice," she said, hoping she didn't sound too snarky with her description.
    Neona rolled her eyes and shook her head slowly back and forth. "That sounds like Kelsey. They're not together anymore. Though I have a feeling Kelsey would like to believe otherwise."
    Star hoped she had misread the situation. She felt like a jealous teenager and mentally chastised herself for overreacting and making the assumption. Hopefully, he hadn't noticed her odd behavior. "Pretty girl," Star commented offhandedly.
    "Pfft. The girl's a tramp," Neona said.
    Star snorted, and quickly covered her mouth, pretending she had something stuck in her throat. She smiled at Neona and told her she was going to take a shower and read for a while.

Chapter Eighteen

    It was early, and Star felt too antsy to sit still and read, so she walked over to the closet. She scowled as she rifled through her meager wardrobe. She didn't own a lot of nice things, and she'd left a lot of her belongings behind in West Memphis. The last thing she'd been thinking about when she packed was dressing to impress someone.
    Most of her wardrobe was comprised of ill-fitting, dark-colored clothes that were about as stylish as a gunny sack.
    Derek had given her certain guidelines about what she could -- and could not -- wear outside their house. One time when she was on her way out the door headed for work, he stepped in front of her, blocking the way. "Where the fuck you think you're going?"
    She flinched at the angry tone of his voice and wondered what had set him off this time. "I'm going to work," she told him. She tried to stay calm. He liked to intimidate her, and the more fear she showed, the more he toyed with her. He got some sort of sick satisfaction out of playing a game of cat and mouse with her.
    "Not looking like some three dollar hooker you're not. Go wash that shit off your face and find something else to wear," he ordered through clenched teeth. His eyes were dark and filled with menace.
    Star knew better than to argue with him, so she hurriedly scrubbed off the makeup and changed into something completely unflattering. He glanced up as she walked into the kitchen, and she turned in a circle for his approval. His jaw muscle twitched, and he nodded. "That's better."
    When she got home from the bar that night, he'd gotten rid of most of the clothes she'd considered nice or attractive. He informed her that he'd thrown all of her "whore clothes" in the dumpster. That was when she stopped caring about her appearance. It was easier to keep her mouth shut and comply than argue and risk getting backhanded.
    She laid out a clean pair of jeans and a cream color sweater. It wasn't much, but it was the best she could come up with for now. She combed her fingers through her wavy locks and decided to see if Ami could fit her in for a haircut sometime before Thanksgiving.
    She opened the top dresser drawer and pulled out her cell phone. She turned it on and smiled softly when she noticed a text message from Taylor: Glad u made it to Iowa. Miss u! xoxo
    The message, no matter how simple, put a sentimental lump inside her throat. She swallowed hard and thought about the fun they used to have working together. He was the only part of that life she still thought about -- in a good way, and she missed him.
    She tossed the phone on to the bed next to the clothes she planned to wear the next day and pulled on her ratty old nightgown. She crawled into the large bed and propped her Kindle up on the extra pillow beside hers.
    ***
    Shane was anything but tired at the end of his shift. The run-in with Kelsey had left him pissed off and too keyed up to think about sleep. Even though it was cold, he decided to go for a ride on his motorcycle. He ran up to his apartment and grabbed his leather jacket and gloves. He kicked off his Nikes, pulled on his boots, and wrapped a long, bright blue scarf around his neck, tucking the ends