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    Long, Tall Texans: Guy
    Long, Tall Texans: Guy
    Long, Tall Texans: Guy
    Ebook85 pages1 hour

    Long, Tall Texans: Guy

    By Diana Palmer

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    About this ebook

    New York Times bestselling author Diana Palmer heads back to Jacobsville with another fan-favorite Long, Tall Texan tale.

    Guy Fenton is long, lean, and impossible to resist. All the ladies in town swoon over him, but this rugged Texan refuses to be tamed by any woman. But beautiful brunette Candy Marshall isn’t your average Jane. The prickly publicist gets on Guy's last nerve—but she’s able to look past Guy’s bad boy reputation and her refusal to fall for Guy's charms intrigues him. Can Guy move past his previous heartbreak and find love with this unlikely woman?

    Originally published in the anthology In Love With a Long, Tall Texan.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarlequin Special Releases
    Release dateMay 27, 2024
    ISBN9780369760753
    Author

    Diana Palmer

    The prolific author of more than one hundred books, Diana Palmer got her start as a newspaper reporter. A New York Times bestselling author and voted one of the top ten romance writers in America, she has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and humor. Diana lives with her family in Cornelia, Georgia.

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      Book preview

      Long, Tall Texans - Diana Palmer

      CHAPTER ONE

      It was a cool autumn day, and the feedlot was full. A good many of these steers were already under contract to restaurants and fast-food establishments, but in these last weeks before they were shipped north, the cowboys who worked for the Ballenger Brothers in Jacobsville, Texas, were pushed to the limit. Guy Fenton hated his job when things were this hectic. He almost hated it enough to go back to flying; but not quite.

      He pushed his hat back from his sweaty dark hair and cursed the cattle, the feedlot, people who ate beef and people who bought it in eloquent succession. He wasn’t a handsome man, but he still had a way with women. He was lean and lanky, thirty years old, with gray eyes and a tragic past that an occasional date numbed just a little. Lately, though, women had been right off his list of pastimes. There had been too much work here at the feedlot, and he was responsible for mixing the various grains and nutrients to put just enough, but not too much, weight on these beef cattle. He enjoyed the job from time to time, but just lately everything was rubbing him the wrong way. A chance meeting with an old acquaintance several months ago from the days of his engagement had brought back all the bad memories and set him on a weekend binge. That was followed by another, when the man settled nearby and came to visit him occasionally, not realizing the damage he was doing to Guy’s peace of mind.

      For two bits, he said out loud, I’d chuck it all and become a beachcomber!

      Keep your mind on that conveyor belt and thank God you don’t have to climb down in there to inoculate those horned devils, came a drawling voice from behind him.

      He glanced over his shoulder at Justin Ballenger and grinned. You don’t mean things could get worse around here?

      Justin stuck his hands into his pockets and chuckled. It seems that way, from time to time, when we get this much extra business. Come over here. I want to talk to you.

      The big boss rarely came out to talk to the hands, so it was an occasion for curiosity. Guy finished the settings on the conveyer belt that delivered feed to the dozens of stalls before he jumped down lithely to stand before one of the two owners of the feedlot.

      What can I do for you, boss? he asked pleasantly.

      You can stop getting drunk every weekend and treeing Thompson’s place, he replied solemnly, his dark eyes glittering.

      Guy’s high cheekbones went a little ruddy. He averted his gaze to the milling, mooing cattle. I didn’t realize the gossip got this far.

      You can’t trim your toenails in Jacobsville without somebody knowing about it, Justin returned. You’ve been going downhill for a while, but just lately you’re on a bad path, son, he added, his deep voice quiet and concerned. I hate to see you go down it any farther.

      Guy didn’t look at the older man. His jaw tautened. It’s my road. I have to walk it.

      No, you don’t, Justin said curtly. It’s been three years since you signed on here. I never asked any questions about your past, and I’m not doing it now. But I hate to see a good man go right down the drain. You have to let go of the past.

      Guy’s eyes met the other man’s almost on a level. Both were tall, but Justin was older and pretty tough, too. He wasn’t a man Guy would ever like to have to fight. I can’t let go, he replied shortly. You don’t understand.

      No, I don’t, not in the way you mean, Justin conceded, his dark eyes narrowing. But all this carousing and grieving isn’t going to change whatever happened to you.

      Guy drew in a short breath and stared at the flat horizon. He didn’t speak, because if he let the anger out, Justin would fire him. He might hate his job, but he couldn’t afford to lose it, either. Rob Hartford settled up in Victoria and he comes down to see me. He does it too often, he said finally. He was there—when it happened. He doesn’t know it, but he brought all the memories back.

      Tell him. People can’t read minds.

      He sighed. His gray eyes met Justin’s dark ones. He’d take it hard.

      He’ll take it harder if you end up in jail. The one good thing about it is that you’ve got sense enough not to drive when you’re in that condition.

      The only good thing, Guy said wearily. Okay, boss, I’ll do what I can.

      Justin followed his gaze. Winter’s coming fast, he murmured. We’ll just get this batch of steers out before we have to buy more feed. It’ll be close, at that.

      Only crazy people get into feeding out cattle, Guy pointed out, lightening the atmosphere.

      Justin smiled faintly. So they say.

      He shrugged. I’ll try to stay away from Thompson’s.

      It doesn’t make a hell of a lot of sense to drink up your salary every weekend, the older man said flatly. Regardless of the reason. But that isn’t what I came out here to talk to you about.

      Guy frowned. Then why did you?

      We’ve got a beef industry publicist coming tomorrow from Denver. She wants to visit a few area ranches, as well as our feedlot here, to get some idea of what sort of methods we’re using.

      Why? Guy asked curtly.

      The local cattlemen’s association—of which Evan Tremayne was just elected president—wants to help punch up the image of the industry locally. The industry as a whole has had some bad press lately over bacterial contamination. There’s been even more bad press about some renegade cattlemen and their practices. We don’t follow their lead around here, and we’re anxious to get the fact across to the beef-eating public. Evan also has an idea about customizing lean beef for a specialized market of buyers.

      I thought Evan was too busy with his wife to worry about business, Guy murmured dryly.

      Oh, Anna’s doing his paperwork for him, he mused. "They’re inseparable, business or not. Anyway, this publicist is expected in the morning. The Tremaynes are out of town,

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