Page 61 of Snowed In with Four Firemen
But before I can respond, the bar door swings open, and Ben strides in. My gaze zeroes in on him immediately. He looks a little disheveled, but mostly unscathed—unlike me. There’s an odd look in his eyes, something I can’t quite read, and it sets me on edge.
“Shit, what happened to your face?” Ben blurts out the second he sees me, his gaze dropping to my jaw.
I scoff, tossing the bloodied napkin onto the counter. “Whit happened. That asshole landed one good punch before I put him on his ass.”
Ben’s lips quirk up in a half-smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, well, he’s gone now, right?”
“Not gone enough,” I grumble, flexing my jaw. “But never mind that—where were you?”
“With Emily…we were just talking,” he says, not quite meeting my eyes.
“Okay sure,” I say, though I don’t really believe him.
Ben pulls out a clean cloth and presses it gently against my jaw, his touch cautious, but I can’t seem to care about the sting. My thoughts are all over the place, and every time I look at him, the anger just builds.
“Hold still,” Ben murmurs, wiping away the dried blood. “You’re gonna reopen it if you keep clenching like that.”
I glare at him, my jaw tight. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine, you’re bleeding,” he shoots back, his voice calm but his eyes narrowed with frustration. He dabs at the cut again, his movements precise, careful. Almost too careful.
“Just wrap it up and get it over with,” I snap, shrugging him off. I’m wound too tight, every nerve buzzing.
Ben’s hiding something. I don’t know what, but whatever it is, it’s making my skin crawl.
“You’re in a great mood,” he mutters, “I’m just trying to help.”
I can’t help the sharp laugh that escapes me. “Help, huh? Like you ‘helped’ by running off back there?”
Ben’s hands still for a fraction of a second—so quick I almost miss it—but then he forces a casual shrug, his expression carefully neutral. “I told you that I was checking on Emily.”
“Yeah, I got that part,” I say.
Ben opens his mouth to respond, but a familiar voice cuts through the air before he can say anything.
“Jesus, what happened in here?” Collie’s voice is a mix of shock and disbelief as she strides into the bar, her eyes wide as she takes in the mess—broken glass scattered across the floor, toppled chairs, and the lingering tension in the air.
She stops dead in front of us, hands on her hips. “Looks like a damn tornado hit. Was this your doing?” Her gaze zeroes in on me, and I see the exact moment she notices the cut on my face, her expression shifting from disbelief to concern. “And you’re bleeding, for God’s sake!”
I shrug, trying to keep my irritation in check. “Just a minor disagreement.”
“Minor?” she echoes, her eyebrows shooting up. “You’re sitting there looking like you went ten rounds with a grizzly, and there’s blood all over the floor. I’d hate to see what you’d call serious.”
“I’m fine.”
“Fine,” she repeats, shaking her head in exasperation, “boys and your damn testosterone.” She crosses her arms, surveying the room like she’s assessing the damage. “Well, someone’s cleaning this up, and it’s not going to be me.”
“I’ll handle it,” Ben says quickly, his voice a little too eager.
“I expect this place to be spotless before morning. I’m not explaining this disaster to management.”
With that, she spins on her heel and marches out, muttering something under her breath about men and their idiocy.
Ben turns back to me, pressing the cloth against my jaw again, but I grab his wrist, holding him in place.
“Talk,” I growl, my voice low. “What’s going on? Just spit it out, Ben.”
He hesitates, glancing at Tanner, then back at me, and finally lets out a long sigh. “Fine,” he mutters, jaw clenched. “I had sex with her.”
