Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [38]
Who knew? He probably wouldn’t be straight with me if I asked him, so I didn’t bother.
I popped four Excedrin and returned to the bathroom to comb my wet hair. Still shivering in my robe, I was digging in the bottom dresser drawer for my fleece pajamas when I sensed him behind me. Mostly, I sensed him ogling my ass.
“I already told you, I don’t want to fight with you.”
“You think that’s why I’m here?”
“Maybe.”
“Why would you think I’d want that?”
I slowly straightened, glad he couldn’t see how much the simple movement hurt me. “Because after we yell and scream, clothes start flying and we’re 128
rolling around naked. Then I forget what the hell we were fighting about.”
“You dangle hot makeup sex in front of me and I might just pick a fight.” He gently turned me around. His eyes searched my face and I winced when his palm pressed too hard into my hip.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just a sore spot.”
“Sore from what?”
“Forget it, okay?”
“No. Let me see.”
I sidestepped him and he stopped my retreat by latching onto my ribs. “Ow. Shit. Fuck. That hurts. Let go.”
“Then stand still.”
“Just—”
Martinez untied my robe, pushing it off my shoulders. His hands froze midair as he caught a glimpse of my various body traumas. Then his eyes narrowed and he assessed my injuries, starting with my swollen and chapped lips, and then the scratch trailing from my chin down my neck. His attention slowly drifted down my body to the bruises scattered around my rib cage like purple polka dots. He followed the pinkish scuff marks on my belly, which were parallel to the huge, angry red welt on my hip bone. And finally, his hard gaze gauged every cut and bruise on my thighs and shins.
He lowered his hands by his sides, clenching them 129
into tight fists. He didn’t speak. He didn’t look me in the eye. His breath came hard and fast–angry, like a bull fighting in the bucking chute.
“What did he do to you?”
Martinez’s menacing tone still had the power to scare the crap out of me. Chills broke out across my exposed skin. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“Answer the fucking question. What did he do to you?”
“Nothing. It’s not his fault—”
Lightning fast, Tony’s thumb pressed against my lips as his hand snaked around my neck to keep my jaw from moving. His black eyes burned inches from mine. “Did you think you could hide this from me?”
“No. Let go. You’re hurting my mouth.”
Immediately, he dropped his hand but continued to stare at my distended lip. “That son of a bitch hit you in the face?”
“My dad didn’t do this. You know I’d never let him smack me around. Ever. Things got hectic when we were at the cattle shelter during the blizzard and a couple of cows stomped the shit out of me. That’s all, okay?”
“Cows? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No.” I sighed. “Will you let me explain?”
“Start. Now.”
I shrugged back into my robe and perched on the end of the bed while Martinez paced. The details tumbled out in a jumbled mess, as if the past forty130
eight hours happened to someone else.
“Now you know why I’m beat and beat up.”
“I cannot believe the shit you get into.”
“Literally. You should’ve seen me when I got home. No. Scratch that. I’m glad you didn’t see me. I was covered in cow shit and birth gunk and woodchips.” And hate. I tugged the robe more tightly, grateful it at least covered the physical scars—old and new. Nothing I could do about the emotional scars, but they weren’t readily visible. I glanced down at my chapped hands and ragged nails. Why was I always such a mess around him? Why didn’t he care?
My stomach trembled when Martinez knelt on
the floor in front of me. “You still mad?”
“No. I never was mad.” He set the side of his face on my thigh and lightly stroked the backs of my calves with his rough fingertips. “I was worried something else had happened.”
“What?”
“I’ll tell you later.” He sat up. “First I need to take a closer look at you to make sure you’re all right.”
“Tony, I’m fine.”
“I’m not.” He smoothed his palm down the side of my head and twined my wet hair in his fingers. I was surprised