17. Montana

17

Montana

I sit on the bed of our hotel while Gunner talks on the phone across the room. Dallas called to check in on us, and now they’re talking about the horses and how much they miss my cowboy. I miss the horses too.

It’s my second full day with Gunner, but it feels like a month. After Charlotte and my father, he knows more about me than anyone else. And I know more about him than I ever expected him to share.

He’s so mean and angry. He’s got the mouth of a sailor and the rage of a bull. But he’s charming, very good-looking, and the thought of saying goodbye to him tomorrow makes me sad almost. I’m sad that my kidnapper is letting me go.

I look down at the leather dress he bought me, still in shock that he’s got such great taste and that I let a man dress me. If I could write down my ideal man on paper, he is the antithesis of what I’d come up with, but the thought of being with someone not like him feels boring. I can’t believe I want to date him.

And I asked him to fuck me. And touch my body. I’d almost be embarrassed if it weren’t for the fact that I’ve been through very intense trauma recently. That’s what I’m blaming my behavior on. Trauma. Because a man who spanks me and chokes me out is not someone I should be asking to enter my body.

But the ache for him is still present today.

Though I hate to admit it, he’s right. My plan does suck, but what else am I supposed to do? I have no one else to rely on. Nowhere else to go. My only other option is to ask Gunner to take me in like some lost little mare. And there’s no way in hell I’d do that.

The thought of living with him is impossible to imagine. And what would we be anyway? Not a couple, that’s for sure. Friends? No, we fight too much for that. Lovers? There’s not an ounce of love between us. How could I ever love that crazy man? And he could never love me. All of his love is with Margaret in the ground. God rest her soul. I hate that he lost her. Losing her was the end of his life.

He gets off his call and looks over at me like he wants to climb on top of me. But as soon as his leering gaze appears, it’s gone, and he puts back on his angry mask and tucks his hands in his worn jean pockets. “Put your shoes back on. We’re going back out.”

I get up slowly when I’d really rather get back in bed and go to sleep. My period’s almost over, but I’m still fatigued from it. And I haven’t had the luxury of a hot bath since day one. “Where are we going?”

He puts on his black cowboy hat that matches his black tee. “Bar.”

I slide into my leather pumps that are far more comfortable than they look. “Don’t you like to eat anywhere else but bars?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Nope.”

I grab my purse that we bought on the way here. With each day that goes by, Gunner treats me a little bit better. Not much, but I’m hoping we’re out of the worst of our situationship. “Is that how you are when you’re dating? You just take women to bars to eat?”

He scowls and grabs my arm, yanking me to his side. “I don’t date.”

I drag my feet on the ground while he hauls me out to his truck. “Oh, I get it. You just fuck then.”

He slaps my ass to reprimand me when I hop into my seat. “No smart-ass. Since you’re so fucking nosy, I haven’t fucked in twelve years.”

Twelve years. The last woman he’s been with is Margaret? My heart breaks, feeling the magnitude of his love for her grow larger than I originally thought. I cross my legs when he hops in beside me. “I’m sorry.”

“The hell are you sorry for? I can get laid whenever I want. I choose not to.”

I pull my chapstick out of my bag that I got at a gas station earlier. “I’m sorry I threw myself at you last night. I just thought you’d want to. I didn’t realize you weren’t interested.”

He lets out a breath when he starts to drive. “Oh, believe me. I’m interested. It’s just been so long that I might just kill you during it. Won’t be able to hold myself back.”

I don’t know if his words are supposed to give me pause, but all they do is make me want him more. Maybe dying during sex wouldn’t be so bad. I mean, it might be shitty for my first time, but it’s better than getting shot or hung by my father.

I elbow him. “I like when you’re out of control.”

He laughs loudly and runs a red light. “Montana Elizabeth Barnes, you have never seen me out of control.”

Gunner holds my hand when we step into the bar right outside an old church. He says it’s so I don’t run off with some stranger who’ll murder me, but I know it’s because he just feels like doing so. I let him because I like it too. Thank goodness neither one of us makes the other admit it.

A live band plays music, and all I want to do is dance again. I ask Gunner to take me on the floor, but he declines, saying he’d rather drink piss than sway with me right now. I smile, knowing that he’s full of shit.

I convince myself I can have a good time in my seat when I spot something in the back of the room that catches my eye.

Gunner’s gaze follows mine, and he pinches my leg under the table. “Absolutely not.”

I ease away from him slowly, getting ready to stand up from the booth. “I’ve never been on one before.”

He grips my wrist. “You’re in a fucking dress. If you get on that bull, I swear to God—”

I stand up with his tight grip still on me. “If you don’t let me go right this instant, I’m going to scream for help, Blackheart. You’re either going to follow me over there and catch me when I swing off or sit here and pout like an asshole. But I’m riding that thing whether you want me to or not. ”

He lets go of me, giving me a subtle nudge. “Fine. But when you bust your damn head open, I’m letting your ass bleed out.”

I pull my dress down even though it‘s about to be riding up in a second and head over to the enclosure. With no wait, I get in and on the machine quickly, gripping it tightly with my thighs so everyone doesn’t see my panties.

I look over at my acquaintance who shakes his head at me with a frown on his face. I wink at him and wave and then hold on tight when the thing starts moving below me.

When I remember I still have my hair clip in, I take it off and toss it on the ground letting my hair free. The attendant starts it off slow at first, so I lift my arms off it and wave them in the air, getting lost in the music.

My angry associate only gets more frustrated with me when his ears turn red. He tries to get someone to turn it off, but they ignore him like he’s a nobody which causes him to start swearing.

I start to laugh looking back at him when the intensity of the machine is picked up, and I squeeze my thighs tighter while I rub my hands up and down my body. Patrons start to crowd around and whistle at me, and when someone shouts that they’re taking me home tonight, he whispers something to the attendant who shakes his head and makes the machine go faster.

Unable to use my lower body strength on its own, I grip onto the bull, trying not to fling off into the wind. Gunner’s scowl melts away and is replaced with a smile while I struggle to hang on, and I start spinning so fast that my head starts to hurt. I lose one of my shoes and then out of nowhere, the thing bucks below me, flinging me forward on my stomach.

I hear booing, and when I crane my neck, I see people throwing beer cans and trash at my guardian. He flips them off and steps into the gate, hauling me over his shoulder while he grabs my lost shoe.

If he thinks he’s carrying me out of here, he has another thing coming. I squirm in his arms, and someone behind me helps me get loose, but I lose my other shoe. The music is still going and so is my adrenaline, and I’m helped onto the nearest table.

Gunner grips my ankle, looking up at me. “Get your ass down here right now!”

I kick out of his grasp and start to dance, pretending like he doesn’t exist.

Everyone hoots and hollers and cheers me on, and when someone passes me a drink, I throw caution to the wind and toss it back .

Gunner growls at my feet, and I feel his impatience grow. When the song’s over, two guys help me down, and then he shoves my shoes back on and pulls me back to our table. “You’re gonna pay for that little stunt.”

I feel my drink hit my empty stomach quickly. “Don’t you know how to have fun?”

He shoves me down into my seat. “Having fun isn’t shaking your ass for a bunch of strangers and drinking spiked backwash from some sicko who wants to tie you up in his basement.”

“Oh. Like some sicko like you?”

“Girls like you end up dead, Montana.”

I turn away from him, wishing I were anywhere else. “And guys like you end up alone, Gunner.”

He orders some food for us, and we eat quietly and quickly. What was supposed to be a good night just went to shit, and the reality of my situation is starting to bring me down. Once I’m done eating, I try to get another drink, but my warden doesn’t allow that. Instead, he pays and hauls me out of my seat like a bag of trash. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

Too tired and buzzed to protest, I let him lead me back to my portable prison.