Page 41 of Stables

And I’m under a comforter.

“Damn it,” he mutters as his dark gaze flicks over my face.

“That good?” I say ruefully. At least I can see out of both of my eyes.

All I can focus on is him.

The slant of his brows as he examines me, the warmth of his thumb as he brushes it over my cheek, the heat of his breath until he holds it and shifts away.

“It doesn’t look like he made it worse.” Dixon rolls back on his heels and turns his body. “Is she okay?” He glances down at my huddled daughter who’s watching him with wide eyes.

“She was on the other side. I don’t think he touched her.” I doubt Matt would willingly have any interaction with Paisley.

Dixon’s mustache twitches as he clenches his square jaw.

Without a word, he stands and walks into the bathroom, only to reappear a moment later with a washcloth.

He doesn’t pause before he’s squatting in front of me and reaching out to gently wipe my chin with the hot rag.

Tenderly, he brushes over my chin. The steamy fabric feels good on the fresh bruises that Matt left.

“He shouldn’t have done this,” Dixon whispers as his palm cups my cheek.

With a lingering stroke, the rough pad of his thumb wipes a lingering tear.

But he stills with his fingers feathered across my jaw and stares at my mouth.

When he pulls away, the air moves over my damp skin, chiling me.

Or, maybe it’s because I want his touch back.

Why did it feel so comforting?

And safe?

Dixon clears his throat and sits back on his heels. “I should call Wade to tell him what that ass—” The tiny crow’s feet deepen as his eyes narrow. “—I mean, tell Wade what Matt did.”

“You can say it. He’s an asshole. But I’m grateful you were here.” I can’t look at him anymore. His body is distracting. I’d like to memorize every cord of muscle on his muscular frame, yet I’m sure he’s seeing me with only pity.

Fidgeting with the corner of the blanket, I suddenly feel very vulnerable.

Weak.

Terrified.

Matt snuck in here so easily. What will he do next time?

“I’m glad I was, too.” Dixon spreads his hand on the edge of the bed and pushes himself up.

The bulge in his boxer-briefs…is it…bigger?

He turns too quickly to get a second glance.

“Matt broke one of the sides of the sliding glass door. I’ll get it boarded as soon as the hardware store opens.” Dixon stops before stepping into the hall. “In fact, I’d avoid the kitchen until I get all of the shards cleaned up.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Char.” He interrupts me. “Hug that little girl. I’ll take care of it.” His fingers tighten on the frame until his knuckles turn white.

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