Wyoming Fierce. Diana Palmer
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the door.
Bodie went into her own room and sank down on the side of her bed, speechless from what had happened in Cane’s bedroom. He’d never once touched her. He’d told her things, shocking things, like the intimate details of his dates. But this was different. This was the first time he’d treated her as an adult woman.
She didn’t know whether to be outraged, angry or flattered. He was much older than she was. He was rich and handsome. He had a disability that made him forget how dishy he really was to women. But she couldn’t forget the look on his face just before he sank back into the pillows unconscious. That had been shame. Real shame.
She sighed. Her whole life had changed in the course of one night. She’d had her mind on education, on getting degrees, getting a job in her field, making some worthy and famous discovery that would set the world of anthropology on its ear. Now, all she could think about was the feel of Cane’s mouth on her body.
She couldn’t afford to let those thoughts continue. She was poor. Her grandfather was even poorer, and it sounded as if her stepfather had been making threats to him about raising the rent. She grimaced. Will Jones was horrible. He kept all sorts of explicit magazines around the house, and her mother had been furious at the cable and satellite bills because he watched pornography almost around the clock. She’d kept a close eye on Bodie, made sure that she was never alone with the man. Bodie had wondered about that, but never really questioned it, until her mother’s death.
The day after the funeral, which her stepfather had actually attended, dry-eyed, he made an intimate remark to her about her body. He said he knew about college girls and he had a new way to make money, now that her mother wasn’t around to disapprove. If she’d cooperate, he’d share the proceeds with her. He was starting an internet business. He could make her a star. All she had to do was pose for a few photographs....
Shocked and still grieving for her mother, she’d left his house immediately and gone to her grandfather’s rented home with only a small suitcase containing her greatest little treasures and a few clothes. Her grandfather, grim-faced, had never asked why she’d moved in with him. But from then on, they were a team. Her stepfather had tried to coax her back, but she’d refused and hung up on him. He had a friend who liked her. The friend, Larry, wanted to go out with her. She didn’t like the look of him, or the way he spent time with her stepfather. She imagined that he had the same taste in reading matter and film viewing as the older man. It gave her the creeps. She opened her biology textbook and sprawled on the bed. She wasn’t going to think of these things right now. She’d face them when she had to. At the moment her priority was passing biology, a subject she loved but was never really good at. She recalled her first biology exam. She could understand the material; her professor was an excellent teacher. But she ground her teeth together during the oral biology lab. Her professor, a kind but terrifying man in a white lab coat during orals, had grinned when she rattled off the information about circulation through the lymphatic system. It had been harrowing. But that was only a test. She was certain that the final would be much worse.
She sighed, closing her eyes and smiling. Her physical anthropology class was her favorite. She was actually looking forward to that final. Her roommate, Beth Gaines, a nice girl with whom she lived in a small apartment off campus, was in the same anthropology class. They’d spent days before Bodie came home for the weekend, grilling each other on the material.
“Bones, bones, bones,” Beth groaned as she went over the dentition yet another time. “These teeth were in this primate, these teeth were in a more refined primate, this was in homo sapiens…aaaahhhhhh!” she screamed, pulling at her red hair. “I’ll never remember all this!” She glared at Bodie, who was grinning. “And I’ll never forgive you for talking me into taking this class with you! I’m a history major! Why do I need a minor in anthropology?”
“Because when I become famous and get a job at some super university as a professor, you can come and teach there with me.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I’ll have connections! Wait and see!”
Beth sighed. Her expression was doubtful.
“Only a few more years to go,” Bodie teased.
Beth’s green eyes narrowed. “I’m not taking any more anthropology classes, period.”
Bodie had only grinned, as well. Her best friend was like herself, out of step with the world, old-fashioned and deeply religious. It was hard to be that way on a modern college campus without getting hassled by more progressive students. But Beth and Bodie stuck together and coped.
Bodie opened her eyes. She was never going to get this biology committed to memory by thinking about other things.
She frowned as music started playing. She got up to answer her cell phone, which was playing one of the Star Trek themes.
Bodie opened it. “Hello?”
There was a pause. “Bodie?”
Her heart skipped. “Yes.”
She moved to the door and pushed it shut, so she wouldn’t disturb her grandfather.
“About earlier tonight,” Cane began slowly.
“Yes?” She was beginning to sound like a broken record.
He cleared his throat. “If I said anything out of the way, I’m sorry.”
She hesitated. “You don’t remember?” she asked.
He laughed softly. “I was pretty much drunk out of my mind,” he said with a long sigh. “Honest to God, I remember getting into the truck with you. The next thing I remember is waking up with a pounding headache and so sick that I had to run to the bathroom.” He hesitated again, while Bodie’s heart fell like lead. All that, and he didn’t remember anything?
“You should stop treeing bars,” she said quietly.
“If I’m going to have memory loss like this, yes, I guess you’re right.”
“And more specifically, you should stop trying to pick up women in bars,” she said with a bite in her soft voice.
He sighed. “Right again.”
“You need to get back into therapy. Both kinds.”
There was a long hesitation.
“You’re not doing yourself or your brothers any favors by behaving like that, Cane,” she told him. “One day, paying off the damage won’t be enough and you’ll have a police record. Think how that would look in the newspaper.”
There was a sound, like a man sitting down in a leather chair. The sound leather made was no stranger to Bodie, who’d wished all her young life for a chair so fancy for her grandfather. His easy chair was cloth, faded and with torn spots that Bodie kept sewing up.
“You’re not the only person who came home from the military with problems of one sort or another,” she continued, but in a less hostile tone. “People cope. They have to.”
“I’m not coping…very well,” he confessed.
“You have to have a psychologist that you like and trust,” she said, recalling her friend Beth’s entry into therapy over a childhood incident. “I don’t think you liked your last one at all.”
“I didn’t,” he said curtly. “Smart guy, never had a pain or injury in his life, said you just had to pull yourself together like a man and face the fact that you’re crippled....”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she exclaimed. “You should have walked right out the door!”
“I did,” he muttered. “Then everybody said I wasn’t trying because I quit therapy.”
“You should have told why you quit, and nobody would have said anything,” she shot back.
He sighed. “Yes. I guess I should have.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be on the road in the morning with Big Red for that cattle show?”