Wyoming Fierce

“Oh, all right!”

She pushed his hand aside and dug into his pocket for the keys, hating the deep, sensual sound that came out of his throat as her fingers closed around them. She was flushing and hoped he couldn’t see. The contact was almost intimate, especially when he suddenly stepped closer so that her small, pert breasts flattened against his broad chest.

“Nice,” he whispered, his lips brushing the thick waves of her short hair. “Smells pretty. Feels good, too,” he added, his one good hand pushing her chest against his so that he could feel the sudden hardening of her nipples.

She gasped.

“Yes, you like that, don’t you?” he whispered. “I wish my shirt was off, and I could feel your bare breasts against my chest....”

She grasped the keys and jerked away from him, her face blazing. “You shut up!” she said under her breath.

He made a face. “’How dare you!’” he mimicked in a high-pitched tone. “How Victorian you sound.” He laughed shortly. “I know all about you college girls. You all sleep around and you want taxpayers to make sure you get birth control so you can do it.”

She didn’t reply. Lots of people thought the same thing. She wasn’t getting into another fight with him, which was what he wanted. He was goading her. Odd, he’d never done it in such a sensual way before. It was affecting her, and she didn’t like it.

“Go on, get in,” she muttered, almost forcing him into the truck beside Darby.

“And fasten your seat belt!” she added.

He gave her another woozy smile. “No. You do it.”

She let out a cuss word and then flushed and apologized.

“No need to say sorry for that,” Darby muttered, glaring at Cane. “I feel the same way.”

Cane glared at him. “Not riding with you!”

He got out of the truck in spite of Bodie’s protests, and when Darby got out to try to force him in, he raised a fist and got into a fighting stance. It reminded both of them that he had a black belt in an Asian martial art discipline.

“Oh, all right, you can ride in your own truck and I’ll drive!” Bodie raged.

He grinned, having gotten his way. He went like a lamb to his own truck, waited for Bodie to flick the remote and let him in. He even fastened his seat belt.

She started the truck, waving Darby to go ahead.

“You’re more trouble than cattle!” she told Cane.

He smiled at her. “You think so? Why don’t you slide over here next to me?” he added with a raised eyebrow. “We can discuss cattle.”

“I’m driving.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “Okay, I’ll slide over next to you…” He started to unfasten his seat belt.

“You do that and I’m calling Cody Banks!” she told him, digging out her prepaid cell phone and showing it to him. “You wear a seat belt when the truck is in motion. It’s the law!”

“The law.” He scoffed.

“Yes, well, you unfasten that belt and I’m calling him, just the same.”

He made a face but he stopped fiddling with the belt. He stared at her, his face hard, his black eyes snapping. Actually she only had about five minutes of phone time left on the device, and she didn’t want to waste it calling the sheriff when she might need it for emergencies. Cane could afford a high-tech cell phone and a plan to go with it. Bodie was lucky to have even a cheap one.

“What happened this time?” she asked, not sure she really wanted an answer. But at least it would keep him talking.

His jaw tautened.

“Come on,” she coaxed. “You can tell me. You know I won’t repeat it.”

“Most of what I tell you, you wouldn’t dare repeat,” he muttered, averting his eyes.

“Yes.”

She waited, not pushing, not prodding, not even coaxing.

He seemed to sober a little. “I had on the damned prosthesis. Looks real, right? At least, until you get close up.” He looked out the window at the passing dark silhouettes of bare trees and pasture. “I took her up to my room. It’s been a long time. I was hungry.” Fortunately for Bodie, he couldn’t see the brief anguish that skirted across her face. “I started to take off my shirt and when she saw the straps that held the prosthesis in place, she stopped me dead. She said it was nothing personal, she just couldn’t do it with a man who was crippled like that. She had to have a whole man.”

“Oh, Cane,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry. Yes. She was sorry, too. I took off the damned prosthesis and threw it at the wall. Then I flew home.” He laid his head back against the headrest. “I couldn’t think about anything else. The look on her face, when she saw that thing…haunted me all day. By sundown, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to get that memory out of my mind. Had to!”

She bit her lower lip. What could she say? Of all the things to happen. She hated knowing that he had women. That wasn’t even her business. But for a woman to treat him that way, after all he’d been through, as if he was less than a man because he lost part of his arm fighting in a conflict sanctioned by his country. It was unthinkable.

“I can’t live like this!” he burst out. “I can’t go through the rest of my life being half a man, being pitied…!”

She stopped the truck. “You stop that!” she said harshly. “You’re not half a man! You’re a hero! You ran right over the damned IED, knowing it would blow up, to save the medics in the jeep behind you! You knew your vehicle had better armor, you knew the bomb would explode when the column went past. You made a sacrifice, saved God knows how many lives by saving those medics. And some stupid woman makes a remark out of ignorance, and you throw away that heroism, that act of gutsy courage, like a used tissue. Well, I won’t let you do it! I won’t!”

He gaped at her through a drunken haze. He shook his head.

She started the truck going forward again. Her face felt hot.

“How do you know that, about me?”

“Tank told me,” she said gently. “The last time I had to go get you from a bar. He said it was tragic, not only what happened to you, but that you wanted to forget something that won you a silver star.”

“Oh.”

She drew in a long breath. “Why do you date women like that in the first place?”

“Most of the women around here are married or ugly.”

She glared at him. “Thanks, from the ugly brigade, I mean.”

“I didn’t mean you,” he said easily. He pursed his lips and studied her. “You’re not ugly, but your breasts are too small.”

The truck almost ran off the road. “Cane!” she exclaimed.

“Don’t worry about it, a lot of men like small breasts. I just like nice big ones. And a soft, sweet belly to sink against when I get inside all that delicate, wet…”

“Cane!” she exclaimed again, flushing.