Submitting to the Doctor (Cowboy Doms 7)

Frowning, Lillian picked up the fork and knife and cut into the chicken, ignoring him as he scooped corn onto her plate before seeing to his own servings. The fire crackled as the wind rattled the window and door, picking up speed while they ate in silence. Mitchell liked she didn’t feel the need to chit chat, but the longer he surveyed her black eye, bruised cheek and cut lip, the more his curiosity and ire increased until he couldn’t hold back from getting answers.

“Tell me why you didn’t seek medical attention instead of driving into a forecasted snowstorm.”

Lillian swallowed, looking up at him with a smooth expression. “Because I’m an idiot?”

He shrugged. The girl had grit, he’d give her that. “I don’t know enough to answer that. Enlighten me.” Instead, she shoveled in a forkful of corn, her slim brows dipping in a frown he found as cute as the freckles sprinkled across her slim, straight nose.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” she asked, tilting her head so her hair swept over her shoulder and upper arm.

“I find you attractive even if your intrusion on my privacy doesn’t sit well with me. The least you can do for your imposition is tell me why you ended up stranded in the middle of the state.” He could tell she didn’t know how to take his blunt honesty.

Her gaze flickered out the window as the wind howled and the snow changed to ice pellets pinging against the glass. “Aren’t you worried about the weather?” Lillian swung her eyes back to him. “For that matter, why are you out in the middle of nowhere in this kind of weather?”

“No, to your first question. The cabin may look rustic, but it’s sound, the generator will hold up, I have enough firewood and food to last a week and friends who know where I am and a way to contact them if I need help. I grew up in Denver and spent a lot of time at my cabin in the mountains, so I’m used to making do during rougher weather. Why do you keep answering my questions with a question?” Mitchell grabbed another piece of chicken and held it up, offering it to her first. She shook her head and he didn’t push it since she’d polished off a whole breast and was finishing the corn.

Reaching for the glass of water he’d poured for her, she took a long drink before saying, “I just spent a month unable to go anywhere, answer a call or get on the computer without a guy interrogating me. Excuse me if I’m not inclined to go down that path again.”

Mitchell drilled her with a pointed look. “The same guy who took his fist to you?”

A rueful grin lifted her mouth. “Try a hefty, backhanded swing, and yes, same asshole.”

He already knew the answer but asked anyway. “It wasn’t the first time, was it?”

Lillian blew out a breath, her hand tightening on her napkin as she picked it up. “No, but it’s not what you’re thinking. I didn’t stay out of some misplaced denial or because I believed he didn’t mean to hurt me. And it’s none of your business so that’s all I’m saying about it.”

There was more, the reason she put up with the man until recently was portrayed in her bleak expression and sorrow-filled eyes. But she was right, he didn’t need to know the specifics to offer her a safe place to stay until the weather let up. He didn’t have to like it, but there was no sense in bemoaning what couldn’t be changed.

Noticing her long blinks, he stood and picked up their empty plates. “Good enough. If you’re done, I’ll give you a shirt to sleep in and an ice pack for your ribs.” When she didn’t argue he realized her fatigue went bone-deep. More answers would have to wait until morning.

“How can I sleep with a cold icepack? I’m already chilled.” Lillian pushed back from the table and rose, reaching for the shirt Mitchell handed her.

“I’ll time it for ten minutes. That will have to do until morning. The cold would have been more effective within hours of your injury, so you’ll only get minimal relief using it now.” He nodded toward the only other room in the cabin. “The bathroom is over there but there’s not a lo

t of hot water stored, so go easy please. And don’t linger while I get the icepack wrapped in a towel or it will melt and won’t be any good to you.”

“I’m too tired to do anything except wash my face and change. If we’re sharing the bed, fair warning – I’m used to sleeping alone and having the covers to myself.”

Mitchell watched her flounce into the bathroom and shut the door, admiring her gumption and easy acceptance of the limited sleeping space. When confronted with sharing a bed with a stranger, most women would balk and at least try to argue for an alternative. He might find her physically attractive and her tart personality cute for now, but he had the control both age and being an experienced Dom afforded him. That control, along with his morose mood meant she was perfectly safe from fending off any sexual passes. In another time, maybe another place, he might not be averse to stripping her out of those jeans and demonstrating where her attitude could land her or the difference between harmful abusive pain and erotic torment.

Lillian wouldn’t admit it to Doctor Mitchell Hoffstetter, but she felt better after eating. Staring at her pathetic reflection in the bathroom mirror, she could tolerate how awful she looked now the dizziness had cleared. If she weren’t still so tired, she might give in to the temptation to continue sparring with her host. There was something about his deep, commanding voice that helped keep her mind off the worrisome building snowstorm and her sorrow over Liana’s passing. For the first time in her life, she was truly alone and that both scared her and made her sad. As annoying as she found him, Mitchell’s bossiness was still preferable to silence and her depressing thoughts.

But even after that quick nap, fatigue weighed her down and she longed to escape her sorrow and aches through sleep. After stripping off her jeans and sweater, she pulled on the blue flannel shirt he loaned her, the hem falling to mid-thigh, the sleeves needing rolled up several times. It was wide enough to wrap around her twice, but warm and comfortable, and that’s all she cared about. The slight woodsy odor reminded her of him as she left the bathroom, his direct, observant gaze as she padded over to the bed warming her insides. Yes, she mused, slipping under the turned down covers, she was definitely exhausted if a stranger she didn’t particularly care for could stir her up with a look.

“Are you sure I need that?” She eyed the wrapped ice with a shiver as he approached the bed.

“Yes.” Instead of giving it to her, Mitchell delved under the blanket, and the shirt and placed the cold compress against her ribcage where she was the sorest. “How’s that?” he asked, stepping back and flipping the covers back up.

“Freakin’ cold, how do you think it is?” She sounded bitchy but damn, it was cold.

“Be careful, pet, or you won’t like the way I warm you up.”

She gritted her teeth at the nickname. “Is that a threat? I thought I could trust you?”

“I don’t threaten, just warn. Remember that and we’ll get along fine. I also don’t hit, but I do have ways to punish a woman you wouldn’t care for.”

He turned from her but she wasn’t about to let that go. Burying deeper into the comfortable bed, she whispered on a tired sigh, “What do you mean, women like me?”

Mitchell settled in the recliner and pulled a book out of the side pocket, flicking her a look of exasperation. “Never mind. Go to sleep, Lillian.”