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  “You’re a sight.” Matt’s face brightened, his grin infectious.

  Trina wanted to rush into his arms but refrained, afraid any moment Cal would show.

  “Man, you’re beautiful,” he said, his tone leaving no room to doubt his sincerity.

  Her mouth watered and her head whirred. Matt was hot. He’d always been, but he’d filled out even more. His youthful features hardened into a man, a warrior, one that could protect and would do so at any moment. She drooled.

  He sent her the kind of appreciative glance a guy gave a woman he held in admiration, not necessarily by her beauty but for what he felt. Tingles raced over her body and forced her feet to move. He engulfed her into a bear hug. A hug so tight she didn’t think he’d let go. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his whispered voice tight.

  Ohmygod! Her pebbled nipples relished against his hardened chest. He didn’t just have a body that would do any poster justice. No, it was Matt, her Matt. She slid her hands around him further, squeezed tighter. “I’ve missed you so much!”

  His chuckle vibrated her breasts, her hands. The smart move would be to step back before they became any more of a spectacle. She brushed a kiss to his jaw, ready to accept it may have to be enough, when his lips captured hers. His taste and scent filled her senses. She leaned into the kiss, her body ready to shatter. His tongue slid into her mouth. Like the night by the river, the time she didn’t act on what her body craved. Her panties moistened.

  “Are you wearing panties?” he whispered next to her ear, his hands sliding down over her backside.

  The last time she saw him, he’d asked her not to wear any. That had been four years ago. “If I’d known I would see you, I wouldn’t have.” What am I doing? She pulled her lips inward, tried to keep the panic from registering on her face, and eased away.

  Matt tugged her chair out, and she returned to her seat. She cradled her phone in her left hand, hiding the band of the engagement ring.

  The server placed Trina’s drink on the table and turned to Matt. Alarm etched in the woman’s face, and she shot her a judgmental squint before asking, “May I get you something?

  “I’m good. Thanks. I don’t expect we’ll be staying long,” he said to her, and the server stepped away.

  What to say? He needed to leave five minutes ago. “Um, I’m not sure what Bradley said, but I have—”

  “He mentioned an appointment. Can you cancel? I don’t have much leave.”

  “I can’t.”

  He lifted her right hand from the table and placed it in his. With feather-like strokes, he brushed his fingers across her skin. “I want to get naked with you.”

  She squeaked out a noise, sounding like a whimpering puppy. “I want the same, but I have to—”

  “What’s this?” a deep voice boomed.

  She covered her mouth to stop the rising bile from escaping.

  “Why do you have your hands on my fiancé?” Cal, wearing dress pants and a designer shirt, glared at Matt.

  Her stomach lurched. The contents from her belly splattered on Cal’s handcrafted, Italian dress shoes.

  What Others Are Saying…

  “This is an amazing thrill ride. You will be on the edge of your seat.”

  ~Books n Pearl on Breaking All Barriers

  “Cait consistently brings just the right mix of suspense, romance and happy endings!”

  ~Books n Bloggin

  “I really can’t say enough about Kidnapped Hearts and the master story teller that is Cait Jarrod. Her tales will entrance you and before you know it several hours will probably have passed while you were lost in Pamela & Jack’s lives. Pick this one up if you are looking for a story with a little bit of everything, mystery, thriller, passion, and romance!”

  ~Star, Illustrious Illusions on Kidnapped Hearts

  “I enjoyed watching two people who were not looking for a relationship, circle, and gravitate toward each other while fighting their attraction before finally giving into their feelings.”

  ~Wild About Bones on Mystic Hearts

  “I had to read this book fast because I had to know how it turned out for everyone!!! The butler was hilarious!”

  ~Books n Bloggin on Entangled Love

  “I will say this, Grab it up and check out these stories I LOVED them all, so much that I hope these ladies will do another one with these same gals and give us an update on their lives. I want more from each one!!!!!

  This is different than other anthology as these stories are all entwined together to give us a little bit of all 4 woman (sisters) friends. I loved every single woman and their stories.”

  ~Chris’ Book Blog Emporium on Girl Code

  Dear Reader:

  Thank you for purchasing Divine, the first book in a three-book series about living your dreams. Every book in the Montana Dream series stands alone, but if you want to live the love stories in order…

  Montana Dreams Series

  DIVINE

  November 2015

  DESTINY

  December 2015

  DESIRE

  January 2016

  Thank you for visiting Bluebird Valley, Montana!

  Happy Reading!

  ~Cait

  Also by Cait Jarrod

  ~Band of Friends Series~

  Kidnapped Hearts, Book 1

  Mystic Hearts, Book 2

  ~Misc~

  Rekindled

  Entangled Love

  Breaking All Barriers

  Girl Code Anthology

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  DIVINE

  Montana Dreams Series

  Book 1

  By

  Cait Jarrod

  DIVINE

  A Montana Dreams novel, book 1

  COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Cait Jarrod

  COVER ART © 2015 by Jays Covers by Design http://www.jayscoversbydesign.com/

  EDITOR Editing Hall http://aubreywynneauthor.com/the-editing-hall/

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, please contact the author via email at [email protected]

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1517598389

  ISBN-10: 1517598389

  Dedication

  To my beautiful niece Brittney O’Bryan

  for allowing me to pick her medical brain and for her endless support and encouragement.

  As always: to my hubby and gorgeous daughters.

  Acknowledgements

  The gals that helped polish Divine either by critiquing, plotting, and proofing. Thank you!

  Brittney O’Bryan, Patricia Smart, Norma Redfern, Neva Brown, Julie Fowler

  Lea Bronsen, Janis Frisch

  Chris Hall, editor

  Jay Aheer, cover artist

  Table of Contents

  Dear Reader

  Other titles by Cait Jarrod

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  A sneak peek into book 2, Destiny

  Connect with Cait Jarrod


  Chapter One

  Twelve years ago…

  Matthew Carson demanded his legs to move faster, ordered his arms to pump back and forth as quickly as they could go. No matter how hard he pushed, how much effort he put into digging his dress shoes into the pavement, he couldn’t get enough traction. He couldn’t outrun the trapped feeling that threatened to suffocate him.

  His mom died. Dead! A frightening emptiness overcame him. His body smarted in a way he couldn’t begin to describe. Concerns and worries he never considered jumped into his mind.

  How would he eat? Where would he and his brother live? Who would make sure he went to school? His brother, five years his senior, said he had it covered. Had a plan all worked out. But at eighteen, how would Travis manage?

  He dug deep, pushed harder. The tightness in his chest increased. He had to outrun the hellacious feeling. Had to. He couldn’t live like this.

  Trees went by in a blur. A car honked. Honked! The nerve! Didn’t they know he lost his mom? The horn sounded again. He wheezed and shifted further to the road’s shoulder. The car sped past, leaving him in an exhaust fog.

  “Asshole!” He wheezed. This sucks! He wanted to escape the pain gnawing at his stomach, his chest.

  The run didn’t do what he wanted. On any other day, it would have given him peace and cleared his head. Not today. Today, his muscles bunched in tight knots. His mind flashed on pictures of his Mom’s accident.

  He swiped at the moisture on his cheek and focused on the path ahead: his oasis from the world, his spot along the Potomac River. The hot summer sun heated his skin through his funeral suit. The road’s pavement burned the soles of his feet. Stupid dress shoes.

  The acidic taste that had resided in his mouth since he learned of Mom’s accident intensified. His legs grew tired. At this rate, he’d drop from the heat. Collapsing would rid him of his troubles. The pain.

  A red bandana, tied on a branch to mark the entrance to the path, danced from the draft of a passing car. He hurried through the field grass and slowed at the entrance to lift a small branch. A musty, decaying scent swamped him as he headed toward the river. It tasted nasty, like dirt, but it replaced the sourness in his mouth.

  He ran the short, muddy path and ignored the sloshing sound his shoes made. Travis would kill him for ruining his good clothes.

  Crickets chirping and frogs ribbitting redirected his attention to the river. Water flowed over the rocks. Whitecaps rolled, powerful and threatening. Yet it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, his hideaway. When life grew tough, he came here to this spot. Alone.

  Passing by a “no swimming” sign, he slumped onto a patch of running cedar. The bittersweet memory of his mother calling the vine crow’s foot, echoed in his mind. The yearly event when she insisted they created real Christmas wreaths and dragged him and Travis into the woods to gather the vine pinched his heart. Doing that, instead of collecting bugs with his friend, had been a nuisance.

  The ache escalated to unbearable. A hot tear slapped his cheek. He’d give up his entire bug collection to help her collect crow’s foot.

  Heat flushed his body. It wasn’t right. Wasn’t fair. Not one parent taken from him, but both! His father had died of a heart attack when he’d turned ten. Back then he didn’t think he’d survive with one parent. One! Hell! He had none. All because someone texted while driving! I’m an orphan!

  “An orphan at thirteen!”

  He snatched a pebble from beside him, tossed it into the air, and caught it. With rage powering him, he slung it sidearm at a floating stick. The rock skipped two times before dropping out of sight in front of an abandoned footbridge.

  Hell, he couldn’t even skip a damn rock.

  The necktie Travis insisted he wear tightened. It had to be its fault. It obstructed his range of motion. Clawing at the tie, he slipped the knot and tossed it to a nearby rock. The suit jacket came next. Travis would have his hide for leaving the funeral reception. Not only did he leave without telling anyone, he hadn’t changed his clothes.

  He shrugged. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Not anymore. He unbuttoned the shirt cuffs, shoved the sleeves up his arm, and threw another stone. Four skips. “Not bad.” He pitched another. Six.

  Skipping rocks didn’t lessen the bone-crushing heaviness inside him. His mind too crowded with memories to think, he rested his forearms on his bent knees and hung his head. “Jeez, I miss her. Fuck!”

  A branch snapped behind him.

  He flinched. Who found me? No one knew this spot. No one, except for Travis. One afternoon Mom and Dad left his big brother in charge. As soon as his parents left, they got into a fight, and he escaped out the basement door to the river. Travis followed. After he checked the area and told him to be careful, he left. It had to be him. The way he fled the funeral service without a word, Travis was probably going ballistic.

  Since their father died, Travis had tried to take on the role of the man of the house. He strived to be the perfect brother and a good role model. It drove Matt nuts, but he understood and appreciated him.

  Without parents, how would Travis act? “I probably can’t even take a crap without permission.” He tensed. He didn’t want a lecture for swearing. Not today, not on any day, but darn if Travis didn’t give him one whenever he had half a chance. It didn’t make sense. Travis used cuss words like a freaking companion, like drinking a glass of milk with cookies. The two went together.

  Forget that. Matt wouldn’t deal with a tongue lashing today. He stiffened his upper lip so Travis didn’t see his chin quivering. Again, why did it matter? He’d cried right along with Matt.

  Inside the tree line, a skinny, pale leg emerged. Not Travis. An even skinnier arm and hand moved a branch out of their way. The tree limbs parted. Red hair flashed. White, pale skin contrasted against the layers of blue covering her torso and orange shorts. A girl?

  His neck stiffened. Who was she to come to his hiding spot? The girl about his age didn’t walk out of the woods but ran. He jumped to his feet and eyed the trees.

  Branches didn’t shake. The leaves didn’t sway. Only the noise of rushing water and the girl’s feet crunching sticks. Even the crickets and frogs quieted.

  She jolted to a stop a foot away, and her hands smacked her cheeks. Eyes, the shade of the forest, widened as they fixed on his. If it weren’t for their bright coloring, she’d have the deer-in-the-headlight resemblance pegged. Her hair stuck out in all directions.

  He stretched out a hand to tuck the wayward strands behind her ear when she shot him a don’t-touch-me-glare. What am I doing? Scratches marred her arms and legs. Black lines streaked her face, and dirt smeared her clothes.

  Matt didn’t know anything about girl’s clothing. Judging by the material, he would say expensive. He’d guessed her shorts and shirt cost more than anything his parents had bought him, times two.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, stepping back.

  While the scared expression stayed, her pupils contracted. “Why are you here?”

  Her indignant tone lit a fire into him. “It’s my spot,” he snapped, without regard to the fact that he didn’t own the area. Folding his arms over his chest, he dug his fingers into his ribs to deflect his emotions and not lash out again.

  She studied his face far too long before taking in his shirt, mud-splotched pants, and muddy shoes. Her attention drifted to his discarded jacket and tie and then darted to him.

  Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, his shirt collar grew tight. Goose bumps broke out across his skin. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, he slid a hand under his shirt collar and tugged. The button flew.

  She cocked her head and observed him like he was a specimen and she the scientist. Then he saw it. The skin on her forehead crinkled as if in recognition. She’d heard about his mom. Everyone asked about the accident. The more people asked, the worse he felt. He didn’t want questions, didn’t want sympathy. He wanted to be left alone.

  “Don’t pity me,” he gruffed out.


  She dismissed his comment. “Why would I? What happened?”

  Her soft tone brought feelings of doom; the type of awareness that if he didn’t watch it, he’d tell her everything. Not something he did with his buddies, and definitely not something he wanted to do with some girl.

  He dropped his arms to his sides, rubbed his fingertips over the imaginary itch on the outside of his thighs. Knowing what to do with his hands had never been a problem. He shoved them into his pockets so the restrictive lining would keep them still.

  Putting himself on guard, he muffled a groan and went for a joke to bring life to his pity party. “I dressed to play my violin.”

  She scrubbed her cheeks. “You play?”

  So self-involved, he hadn’t noticed her splotchy face and the eye-to-chin black streaks on her cheeks from her makeup. Mentally, he kicked his butt. In the face of what he experienced, he paid attention to others. Living by this philosophy kept him grounded, so said Dad. He had enforced it on him and Travis. Don’t ever be so self-absorbed, you don’t see another’s pain.