Snow Blind-J Collins 4 (13 page)

123

“Brittney told me about the tattooed freak who’s at your place all the time. You embarrassed to introduce me to the spic who’s warmin’ your bed?”

“Yep. You’ve caused me enough embarrassment to last a lifetime.” I drained the brandy in one long, delicious swallow.

“That ain’t what I meant.”

“I know. But I’m long past needing Daddy’s approval for what or who I do.”

“You think your mama would be proud of that smart mouth?”

I whirled around to face him. “Gee, this has been great. I’m guilted into coming here in the middle of a fucking blizzard, against my better judgment. Personally? I could care less if you froze to death with your beloved cows, but because Brittney gives a damn about you, by default, I had to, too. Never mind the fact I got the shit kicked out of me by your goddamn heifers. I feed you, I patch you up, I haul in wood in the middle of the fucking night to keep the fire going so we don’t freeze to death, and this is what I get? Your fucking holier-than-thou attitude? You throwing my dead mother in my face when
you
are the one who should be ashamed of how you’ve acted toward me for the last twenty years? You think
she
would be proud of you?”

His jaw went rigid.

“I tried to make the best of this shitty situation, but know what? I’m done. My life would be so much easier if you were dead.”

124

Childish? Yeah. I stomped outside. Smoked my last two cigarettes and only returned inside when I couldn’t feel my feet. I dragged the sleeping bag up to Brittney’s frigid room. I’d rather be a human Popsicle than spend another minute with him.

The next morning I woke to stillness. No wind.

In the absolute stillness I heard the faint
beep beep
of the snowplow as it cleared off the gravel road. I didn’t say anything at all as I fled the house. I put my truck in the lowest gear, busted through the snowdrifts blocking the driveway, and was on the road back to sanity.

125

The roads were still dicey. But I was so sick of being around Doug Collins I would’ve walked home.

Uphill. Stark naked.

Bear Butte County snowplows cleared the main thoroughfare in my housing development, leaving a three-foot ridge blocking my driveway. I busted through it like an off-road pro. Eyeing the snowdrifts covering my porch and steps with distaste, I decided I’d deal with shoveling later. Like in the spring. All I could think about was a hot shower; dry, clean, warm pajamas; and my own soft bed.

I stripped off my filthy clothes before I stepped out of the foyer. The clock on the DVD player flashed 12:00, indicating the power had gone off here, too.

Still wearing only my bra and panties, I plucked up the receiver and dialed.

126

Martinez’s greeting was: “Jesus Christ, Julie, where the fuck have you been for the last two days?”

In hell
. “Aw. I missed you, too, sweetie pie.”

“Not funny.”

“Yeah, well, the past two days haven’t been a fucking yuk-fest for me either, pal. I got snowed in at the ranch with Daddy-O. So before you continue to bellow, let me say that the reason you didn’t hear from me was because my cell phone died. Oh, and lucky for me, the electricity was off in the whole damn county so the phones at the house didn’t work either. And I was fresh out of carrier pigeons to get a message to you.”

“Still not laughing, blondie.”

“Guess what? I’ve used up all my ‘meanwhile, back at the ranch’ jokes anyway.”

I think I heard him snarl.

“I’m exhausted, and I can’t stomach the thought of fighting with you, Martinez, so back off.”

“You done?”

“Yes.”

I waited, expecting he’d say something profane, but the pause lingered longer than usual.

“Look. I’m sorry you were worried.”

His anger pulsed over the phone line; I swear the receiver throbbed in my hand even after I’d apologized, which was a rare occurrence for me.

“Fine. Be an ass. I just wanted to let you know I wasn’t dead and lying in a goddamn river bottom someplace.” I hung up and stumbled to the shower.

127

I lingered under the spray until not a drop of hot water remained. I couldn’t get warm even snuggled in my super-duper thick terry-cloth robe. Wearing a towel wrapped turban-style around my head, I exited the bathroom and cranked the heater to the highest setting. When I rounded the corner to the kitchen, the front door opened.

Martinez stomped inside. He wore sunglasses and a heavy scowl. “Where’s the shovel?”

“In the back of my truck.” I started to tell him not to bother, but he’d do it anyway. The man had a weird obsession with shoveling, which made zero sense since he employed minions to do that sort of menial shit for him everywhere else he hung his leather coat. Why would he want do it here?

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 forty-130

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 wood-chips.” 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 his hand shook. “Julie. Let me do this.”

Why was he fussing over me? From guilt because we’d had a fight the last time we’d been together?

No. He’s doing it because he cares about you.

“Do it quickly, because I’m cold.”

131

Martinez stood. “Hang tight.” He disappeared for a minute and returned with a bottle of peppermint schnapps. “This’ll warm you up.”

I swallowed two mouthfuls. The minty sweetness heated me from the inside out. Three more big gulps and I was completely relaxed, my limbs pliant, my head pleasantly muzzy.

His initial examination was very clinical. Testing my ribs for fractures, making sure the scratches weren’t infected, checking bruises for abnormal swelling.

His second inspection was personal. Intensely personal. Every bruise, every cut, even the smallest mark received a tender caress and the healing touch of his warm mouth, until no part of my body had been left untended.

Those soft kisses and gentle strokes drugged me more thoroughly than the schnapps, soothing me with the lover’s care and concern that no other man in my life ever bothered with. Tony’s attention was so much sweeter because it was so unexpected.

I made a sleepy protest when he tucked me between my flannel sheets. Alone.

“That’s it?”

“For now.”

“You’ll stay?”

“Yeah. I’ll stay.”

“All night?”

“If that’s what you want, blondie.”

“That’s what I always want. Thank you for . . .”

132

Everything
seemed too broad, too telling, and I was too wiped out to come up with something raunchy that’d make him crawl in bed with me and forego all thoughts of sleep. “Thank you for being nice.”

“You’re welcome.”

The next morning I woke to the tempting smells of bacon and eggs and coffee. Martinez had prepared a feast and he watched me to make sure I ate every bite.

Finally, he said, “I called Wells yesterday afternoon to let him know where you’d been.”

“Why?”

“He knew I’d been trying to track you down.”

I reheated my coffee and his. “Wow. You must’ve been desperate to contact him.”

“Smart-ass.”

“Bet he didn’t even know I was MIA, did he?”

“No. That first night of the blizzard some chick answered the phone. Thought I’d dialed the wrong number. So I called again. Evidently she’d gotten snowed in with him.” He dumped five sugar cubes in his mug. “Is she the new client?”

“I imagine. What’d Kev say when you talked to him yesterday?”

“Not much. He was on his way back from the airport.

133

Said to tell you not to come in today if you don’t feel up to it.”

I smiled at Martinez over the rim of my cup. “I feel up to a lot of things this morning.”

His I’d-like-to-have-you-for-breakfast bad-boy grin made my skin sizzle. “Oh, yeah? You admitting you missed me?”

“Mmm hmm. You wanna feel me up?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

His cell phone rang. It never occurred to him not to answer it. He said about two words and then, “On my way.” After draining his coffee, he stood to rinse his cup. He kissed the top of my head. “Hold that thought, blondie.”

I didn’t feel that great—then again, I lived on cigarettes, tequila, and coffee and was used to feeling lousy every damn day. Better to go to work than sit at home.

On the drive into Rapid City I was stunned by the variances in the amount of snowfall. In some spots the fields were barely covered. The frigid temperatures lingered, the only snowmelt was courtesy of salt on the roads, and it hadn’t done much good. Piles of plowed snow lined the interstate, but it was nothing like the drifts at the ranch. Bear Butte County had been hit the worst, which wasn’t unusual.

Kevin’s Jeep was in the leased parking lot. I climbed the stairs. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee teased my senses when I opened the office door.