Page 59 of Snow in Texas

“Like I said, I stepped in shit.” He was toeing his boots off. “Real, actual human shit.” He undid his jeans and pushed them down his legs, stepped out of them, looking stupid in boxers and his shirt and cut. “And then I threw Fox in it,” he added, expression furious.

“Why would you do that?” she asked, lips feeling numb with panic and shock. She rubbed at her arms, trying to dispel the goosebumps.

If Colin noticed the effect his ill-treatment was having on her, he didn’t let on. “Why?” he asked. “Because he fucked you, that’s why.”

Oh.

Oooohhhhh.

She sucked in a breath. “He told you?”

“When were you gonna clue me in?” he asked, voice a growl. “Or were you gonna keep it a secret? In case you ever got the itch for something British again?”

She felt like she’d been slapped. “Are you kidding me?”

He turned away from her and walked down the hall toward the bathroom, shedding the rest of his clothes as he went.

Jenny followed. She stepped over his shirt and said, “Is that what this is? Some sort of jealous fit ‘cause Fox and I messed around a long time ago?”

He didn’t answer. Naked, he stepped into the bathroom and left the door open, leaned in and started the shower.

Angry, rattled, Jenny looked him over with complete dispassion. Yes, he was a monster. With big, solid bones and heavy muscles. Broad, long-fingered hands capable of crushing things – like, say, for instance, her wrist. She rubbed at the offended joint as her gaze skipped down his back, the way his generous shoulders tapered down to narrow hips, the tan lines at his waist, the shadow between his legs. Nothing about him aroused her in that moment. All she felt was small and fearful, and completely incapable.

“I asked you a question,” she said.

He glanced back at her over his shoulder as he tested the water temperature, gaze dark and harsh. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it happened years ago. It’s ancient history.”

“Did you cheat on your husband with him?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

They glared at one another until Jenny couldn’t stand it any more. She glanced away, choking on her fury. “It was about a year after the divorce. I got very drunk, and Charlie was being very sweet–”

“Oh, so it’s ‘Charlie’ now?”

“Shut up,” she snapped. “You don’t get to resent me for things I did a long time ago. I’ve known you a few months. A tumble I took six years ago isn’t any of your business.”

Scowling to himself, he stepped under the spray and pulled the clear glass door shut. Jenny wished it was frosted, so she couldn’t see him so clearly as the water pattered across his shoulders.

She closed her eyes and the dim, wine-soaked memory of six years ago filled her mind, warm, but impressionless as the steam that filled the bathroom. She’d wanted a little friction, and she’d trusted Fox, and known he wouldn’t mistake what happened between them for anything real.

Unlike Colin, apparently.

“Why does it make a difference?” she asked, opening her eyes.

Colin scrubbed a froth of shampoo bubbles through his short hair, white rivulets trickling down his face. “It makes me look like an idiot.”

“Oh. Well. I’d hate to fuck with your man-pride. That’s super important. Never mind my bones.” She lifted her bruised wrist.Never mind my nerves, she added to herself.

His eyes opened to slits, and his body stilled, suddenly, rigid beneath the spray. “Did I hurt you?”

“Yeah.”

His eyes widened, and she saw the shampoo run into them, knew it had to sting. His voice changed. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.” As she turned to leave, she heard the shower door slide back, and the light splatter of water hitting the floor.

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