15. Cassidy #2
Again, I squinted at him through one eye. “Me? What’s wrong with you? Can’t a girl suffer in silence? Why do you have to be such a damn brute and charge in here, ruining my night?”
“Get your ass up and lock the damn door!”
“Go fuck yourself!” I snapped. “This is my house. My fucking life. And last I checked, you didn’t want to be part of it!”
He huffed out a laugh, running his hand over his jaw. “So, that’s what this is? You’re punishing me for not wanting a relationship?”
Groaning, I tossed myself back on the couch and buried my face against the cushions. “God, men are such babies. Not everything is about you!”
“You just said—”
Jumping to my feet, I narrowed my one good eye at the man, my anger spiking to unnatural levels.
“Look, I’ve got a migraine, and I’m about five seconds from grabbing this lamp and bashing it over your head to get you to shut the fuck up.
Right now, I have the chance to make this spike in my eyeball disappear, but that’s only if you leave me the fuck alone.
If you stay, you’ll only piss me off, and then this will most likely turn into one of the worst migraines I’ve ever had. So do me a favor and piss off!”
My chest was heaving by the time I was finished, and the stunned expression on his face would have made me laugh if I wasn’t in such a pissy mood. No, I didn’t normally lose my temper. I was usually very mild-mannered, but when I had a migraine, I couldn’t tolerate anything.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he had the decency to look sheepish. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Yeah, leave me the hell alone.” I was about to lay down when a pang of guilt struck. “And I’m sorry for swearing at you. That was rude. Now, would you kindly get the fudge out of my house?”
I thought I saw an amused smile touch his lips, but he did as I asked, retreating to the door and quickly locking it before shutting it quietly. Since I was already up, I stalked to the freezer and grabbed an ice pack, then trudged through the house to my room.
When I flopped down on the bed, I placed the cold pack over my eye and snuggled under the blankets, hoping the worst of it would pass by morning.
Unfortunately, my hopes were squashed when I rolled over an hour later, the pack falling to my sheets as I groaned, holding my head. The worst was definitely not over, and the spike driving through my eyeball had now started pulsing.
I desperately needed pills, but on an empty stomach, that would only make me sick. Stumbling out of bed, I gripped the walls as I made my way to the kitchen. With the lights still on in the living room, I could clearly see where I was going, but it did nothing to help the pounding in my head.
I was nearly to the cabinet when I slammed my toe into the corner of the lower cabinets, sending a sharp pain through my pinkie.
Biting my lip, I bent over the counter, breathing deeply as I tried to force the pain from my body. “Son of a bitch,” I muttered, lifting my foot and cupping my toes. “I am so going to call off work tomorrow.”
Not that I really had to call off. I basically just didn’t open the store.
Taking a final deep breath, I dropped my foot and stood tall, taking several breaths before walking to the corner cabinet for my pills.
And that’s when I felt the sharp sting in the bottom of my foot.
Gasping, I instantly lifted my foot, hopping out of the way, only to land on whatever the hell I stepped on in the first place with my other foot.
“Mother fucking son of a bitch!” I shouted as tears poured down my face. “Why? Why the fuck does this have to happen today?” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
Tears spilled down my cheeks as pain radiated through my right foot. That one had taken the brunt of the pain since I’d jumped and landed on whatever sliced my foot, and was currently still embedded in it.
The door banged open at the front of the house, and I grabbed the frying pan just as an intruder stormed around the counter, charging me. I swung hard, hitting him over the head with one harsh blow that vibrated up my arm and through my body.
“Son of a bitch! What the fuck?”
I was just about to swing again when I cracked open the one eye that wasn’t throbbing and stared at Sam, crouched over and holding his head.
“Sam?” I asked, my shoulders sagging.
“What the fuck did you hit me for?”
“Why the hell did you barge into my house?” I shouted, wincing as the intensity ramped up behind my eye.
“I heard screaming.” Slowly, he raised his hands and stood to his full height, never taking his eyes off the pan in my hands.
“Yes, because I stepped on something.” I glanced down at the blood staining the floor, then held up two fingers. “Twice.”
My chin wobbled as my terrible night unfolded before me.
“And I stubbed my toe!”
For just a moment, I thought for sure he was going to laugh at me, but then he stepped forward, taking the pan gently from my grasp before hauling me up onto the counter.
“What the hell am I going to do with you?”
“Me?” I cried. “You’re the one who started this!”
“In what way?” he asked incredulously.
“You came here when I had everything covered!” I wiped the snot and tears from my face, my anger not subsiding in the least. “I was dealing with it, and then you started cleaning up and seducing me. I stubbed my toe because of you!”
“I wasn’t even here,” he argued.
“That doesn’t matter, you jerk! You set in motion a chain of events that led to my utter destruction!”
Sighing, Sam shoved his fingers through his hair as he backed up. “I don’t get it. I’m being blamed for something that happened when I wasn’t here.”
“Just leave! I know you want to, anyway!”
His eyes darkened as he crowded me once again. “If I wanted to leave, why am I still here an hour after you kicked me out?”
His low voice throbbed at the very center of my core, pulsing with a need that I couldn’t handle right now. My eyeball was about to explode, and if he gave me the pleasure I craved, I highly doubted an orgasm would cure my migraine.
Then again, it wouldn’t be a horrible way to go.
“You’re a fucking mess,” he muttered as he got on his knees, lifting both of my feet to examine them. When he pulled a shard of glass from my right foot, I hissed, trying to tug my foot away, but he held on tight, refusing to let me go.
“I’m cleaning this up, and then we’re putting you to bed. You’re cranky when you have a migraine.”
“You would be, too, if you felt like a spike was driving through your head.”
He snatched a banana off the counter and handed it to me, then pointed at the cabinets. “Medicine?”
“Corner cabinet,” I muttered, peeling the banana and taking my first bite.
My stomach roiled at the thought of eating anything right now, but it was a necessary evil if I wanted that medicine.
Shaking out two tablets, he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and waited for me to finish eating before he shoved it at me. “Drink.”
I rolled my eyes, but did as he said. While I sipped the water, he cleaned up my foot, slapping a bandage on to keep it covered.
“Arms around me,” he ordered, scooping me up into his arms.
I let out a small yelp as he hauled me against his chest and carried me down the hall to my bedroom. Once I was nestled in the bed, he kicked off his shoes and got in bed beside me.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to sleep,” he muttered.
“I thought you didn’t want to sleep over,” I said mockingly.
“Would you shut up and go to sleep?”
Sighing, I closed my eyes, but it was no use. My eye was still throbbing.
“Sam?”
“What?” he groaned.
“I need an ice pack.”