Diana Palmer - Wyoming Fierce

New York Times bestselling author Diana Palmer returns to Wyoming with a new romance featuring one of the ruggedly handsome Kirk brothers.

Ranch owner Cane Kirk lost more than his arm in the war. He lost his way, battling his inner demons by challenging any cowboy unfortunate enough to get in his way. No one seems to be able to cool him down, except beautiful Bodie Mays. Bodie doesn’t mind saving Cane from himself, even if he is a little too tempting for her own peace of mind.

But soon Bodie’s the one who finds herself in need of rescuing—only, she’s afraid to tell Cane what’s really going on. How can she trust someone as unpredictable as this fierce cowboy? When her silence only ends up getting her into even deeper hot water, it’s up to Cane to save the day. And if he does it right, he won’t be riding off into the sunset alone.

Praise for the novels of New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author

“Palmer demonstrates, yet again, why she’s the queen of desperado quests for justice and true love.”

—Publishers Weekly on Dangerous

“Nobody does it better.”

—New York Times bestselling author Linda Howard

“The popular Palmer has penned another winning novel, a perfect blend of romance and suspense.”

—Booklist on Lawman

“Palmer knows how to make the sparks fly…heartwarming.”

—Publishers Weekly on Renegade

“Diana Palmer is a mesmerizing storyteller who captures the essence of what a romance should be.”

—Affaire de Coeur

Wyoming Fierce

Diana Palmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dear Reader,

I wanted to do Cane Kirk’s story from the minute I found him lurking in my brain. He was a man with serious issues. But then, a man without a single flaw would be boring.

The story developed on the computer screen in front of my eyes. I had a basic plot, but the characters themselves wrote this book. I have to admit that the part about the rooster isn’t exactly made up. I had one of those problem roosters myself not too long ago.

One day I looked out my front door and saw a red rooster and two white hens grazing on my lawn. I live in town, so this was rather a surprise. I thought they’d go home and that would be the end of it. The next day they were back. I tried putting them out the gate and closing it. They just came back in the minute I opened it. So the hens moved out back and laid me two nice eggs every day, and the rooster went back to wherever he came from. Except that he started reappearing atop my seven-foot-tall solid wood fence every morning at daylight like clockwork.

I chased him out of the yard daily. But he started to fight back. He had spurs and he could fly. I got spurred twice before I figured out how to protect myself. I learned to carry a garbage can lid out with me to keep him at bay. So I was running him all over the yard (I can’t exactly run—I was sort of hobbling him all over the yard), and it was upper eighties in temperature. We hobbled, then we wobbled, then he was walking and panting and I was walking and panting, but I couldn’t get closer than seven feet away from him. I never could outhobble or outwalk him. But there are sites on the web that can teach you the way of the rooster and how to catch one. No, it’s not what you think. I like chicken soup, but I’m not eating such a valiant feathered opponent. He retired with his laurels to a more suitable location.

Anyway, I feel for poor Cort Brannt at the end of this book. When you get to it, you’ll know why.

As always, thank you so much for your kindness and your loyalty over the long years.

Your biggest fan,

Diana Palmer

To Cinzia (no ice cream trucks!) and Vonda and Cath, and all my DP Girls!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

BOLINDA MAYS WAS HAVING a hard time concentrating on her biology textbook. She hadn’t slept well, worrying about her grandfather. He was only in his early sixties, but he was disabled and having difficulties paying his utility bills.

She’d come home for the weekend from her college in Montana. The trip was expensive, considering the gas it took to get her back and forth in her beat-up but serviceable old truck. Thank God she had a part-time job working for a convenience store while college was in session, or she’d never have even been able to afford to come home and see about her grandfather.

It was early December. Not too long before Christmas, and she was having final exams the next week. Really cold weather would come soon. But Bolinda’s stepfather was making threats again, about turning her grandfather out of the house that had once been Bolinda’s mother’s. Her death had left the old man at the mercy of that fortune-hunting fool who had his fingers in every evil pie in Catelow, Wyoming. Bolinda shivered, thinking how impossible it was going to be for her, trying to pay off her used textbooks that she’d charged on her credit card. Now she was going to have to try to pay for her grandfather’s utility bill, as well. Gas was so expensive, she thought miserably. The poor old man already had to choose between groceries and blood pressure meds. She’d thought about asking her neighbors, the Kirks, for help. But the only one of them she knew well was Cane, and he resented her. A lot. It would be dicey asking him for money. If she even dared.

Not that he didn’t owe her something for all the times she’d saved people from him in the little town of Catelow, Wyoming, not too far from Jackson Hole. Cane had lost an arm overseas in the Middle East, after the last big conflict but while he was still in the service. He’d come home embittered and icy cold, hating everyone. He’d started drinking, refused physical therapy, refused counseling and then gone hog wild.

Every couple of weeks, he treed the local bar. The other Kirk brothers, Mallory and Dalton, always paid the bills and they knew the owner of the tavern, who was kind enough not to have Cane arrested. But the only person who could do anything with Cane was Bolinda, or Bodie as her friends called her. Even Morie, Mallory Kirk’s new wife, couldn’t deal with a drunken Cane. He was intimidating.

Not so much to Bolinda. She understood him, as few other people did. Amazing, considering that she was only twenty-two and he was thirty-four. That was one big age difference. It never seemed to matter. Cane talked to her as if she were his age, often about things that she had no business knowing. He seemed to consider her one of the guys.

She didn’t look like a guy. She wasn’t largely endowed in the bra department, of course. Her breasts were small and pert, but nothing like the women in those guy magazines. She knew that, because Cane had dated a centerfold model once and told Bodie all about her. Another embarrassing conversation when he was drunk that he probably didn’t even remember.