Damaged 2 (9 page)

I
want to be brave for once. I want to say it and see what happens. I've treated
him so badly and he was so mad at me. Fear keeps shoving the words down my
throat, but they rise up again, rebelling like they have a mind of their own. I
feel the sentence on my tongue and then on my lips. "It was different before—I
could drop the towel—because I was thinking about something, something I
shouldn't." My lips part as I stand there trying to find the right words. "I
got lost in the moment."

Someone
sucked all the air out of the room, because I can't breathe. I feel like a fish
on a hook with Peter's hand holding my chin up. He doesn't free me; he doesn't
take the words and throw me back. Instead he leans in kissably close, and
breathes, "Oh? What were you thinking that would make this feel safe enough to
trust me like that?"

There's
a knot in my throat that I can't swallow down. He has me reeling, dangling from
the end of the pretty pink string, and it's all I can do to not back away. This
conversation terrifies me, but it excites me, too. His hand is warm, gentle but
firm. It moves from my chin to my cheek. I lean into his touch and close my
eyes. "For a moment everything felt right, like things never happened. You
seemed to latch on to the girl I was and pull her back. She's not afraid of
you, and she's still in here wanting things I don't normally want."

"Tell
me what you wanted, Sidney." Peter's eyes search mine, looking, hoping beyond
hope.

My
jaw hangs open, but no noise comes out. It sounded so different in my head.
Saying it out loud solidifies the thought and makes it real. Peter brushes his
lips over my cheek and pulls back. His eyes drift to my lips like he's thinking
about kissing me again. I want to be brave, so I say it and tell him, "I wanted
you."

A
shy smile drifts across his lips. "Like wanted me, wanted me?"

A
blush paints my face red. I feel the burn creep across my cheeks and can't
contain my smile. I try to look away, but he won't let me. Peter's finger is
under my chin again, tilting my head back so our gazes meet. "Maybe."

"When
you say maybe, it usually means yes."

I
grin. "Maybe."

CHAPTER
12

The
rest of the night passes slowly. I toss and turn on the mattress, but I can't
get my body to settle down. Having Peter at the foot of the bed makes me crazy.
I want his arms around me, but I'm afraid I'll go nutso and tell him to get
lost if he touches me wrong. I roll onto my back and pull the pillow over my
face. The towel is a lump under my back, all bunched up and horribly
uncomfortable. I'm smothering myself with the pillow when I feel it being
pulled away.

Peter
looks down at me with those gorgeous eyes. "Restless night?"

"Maybe."
We both laugh softly.
Damn it. I had no idea I was doing that.
I make a
mental note to stop saying maybe when I'm thinking yes.

Peter
offers his hand. I take it, and he pulls me from the bed. I try to reach back
for the towel, but Peter closes his eyes. "Leave it. I won't look." He holds
his arms out, open. "Dance with me."

I
tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. "Peter, I—"

"You
said maybe. Maybe means yes. But you'll have to lead since I can't open my
eyes." Watching Peter, I make my decision. He's bare chested and wearing a pair
of gray sweatpants. I can barely see him in the darkness. The streetlight casts
a yellow glow through the slit in the curtains. It illuminates his toned body
and open arms.

I
step into the space and take his hands. I put one on my waist and slip my palm
in the other. Our fingers lace together and we start a slow rockstep. My heart
is pounding even though we've done this a million times. In the past Peter was
my teacher and my boss. Now he's half naked with his eyes closed.
How'd we
get here?
I never would have thought this is where we'd end up when I first
met him that night at the restaurant.

Just
as I calm down, something scrapes the door. It sounds like a nail slowly dragging
across the metal. Peter's eyes burst open as I cling to him. I forget about the
towel and my ratty pajamas. That sound is just wrong, like a switchblade
dragging across metal—or like Dean's knife. I glance up at him just as Peter
looks down at me. Neither of us says anything, and then the sound comes again.

Peter
releases me, leaving me at the foot of the bed. He presses his finger to his
lips and waits for me to nod before moving away to look out the slit in the
curtains. Peter stands there for a moment, careful not to touch the fabric. He
pads back to me and whispers, "I don't see anything. Maybe they've gone." But
just as he says it, the horrible sound comes again. It's louder and longer this
time.

My
mind is messing with me, throwing me into the past. Glints of silver flash
behind my eyes. I press myself to Peter. "That knife, Dean's knife…"

Peter
holds me tight. I can tell he doesn't want to let go, but the sound comes
again. Maybe he's carving something into the door. Maybe he'll finish and go
away. Peter whispers soothing words in my ears but never takes his eyes off the
door. I chant
go away
over and over again in my mind as if it could
actually do something.

Peter's
hands firmly hold me against his chest. We watch the door, waiting for it to
fly open, but silence fills our ears. Swallowing hard, I look up at him, ready
to speak when something bangs into the door and at the same time the knob
rattles like someone is trying to open it. Frantically, I look around the room
for something to defend us with, but I don't have anything. My pulse is roaring
in my ears, so when Peter lets go of me and strides toward the door, I freak
out.

Peter
is livid with testosterone flowing off of him in crushing waves. The scar on
his side flashes pure white as he crosses the strip of light on the floor. It
flashes over his body like a grocery store scanner. Before I can say anything,
Peter hurls the door open. It smacks into the wall so hard that the knob
smashes a gaping hole.

Peter
steps outside. "Come out, you motherfucker, and settle this now!" His fists
tense at his sides as he walks farther into the parking lot, barefoot. The
lights in the room next to us flip on. I see the golden glow on the ground
outside their window, spilling into the parking lot.

I
want Peter to come back. I can't lose him. I can't. I race after him when
something darts out from behind a bush next to the door. It rams straight into
me, running over my bare feet with claws.

I
scream and fall back, trying to get away from it before I realize what's
happening. Peter rushes toward me and stops. A huge smile breaks across his
face, and the worry evaporates. I'm still scooting back like I'm being attacked
when I finally stop and look at the thing sitting on my legs. My turkey vulture
looks back like I'm crazy before walking over me. It scrapes its beak on the
metal door, making a hideous noise, and then slips into the room.

Heart
pounding, I look back at Peter, "What the fuck?"

Peter
has his arms folded across his broad chest. "Well, it appears that the big bird
of prey doesn't want to sleep in the parking lot."

I'm
staring, still not believing it.
Why?
"Why does this shit happen to me?"
I jab my thumb at the people watching us in the next room. "It doesn't happen
to them."

Peter
nods and waves at them with a smile he tries to cover with his hand. The people
disappear back into their room. "Well, for starters, they didn't take a lame
bird off the highway and let it wear a bra all day. If you ran it over like a
normal person, we wouldn't be having this conversation." Peter is so close to laughing
that he can't keep a straight face. "By the way, next time I'm saving you from
a giant chicken, stay inside."

Peter
drapes his arm over my shoulder and walks me back inside, closing the door
behind us. "You were going to fight whatever was out there, weren't you?" He
nods. "What makes a man turn pacifist and then back again?"

"A
knife in the side changes a guy." Peter looks around for the turkey. It's under
the sink, preening. "Uh, Sidney. I'm not sleeping on the floor with that thing
in the room. I'm not even sure if I can sleep with that thing in the room."

"Then
throw him outside."

Peter
looks back at the animal and then at me. He laughs and shakes his head. "No
thanks. Besides, he'll just do it again."

"A
cat probably tried to eat him."

Peter
lets out a loud laugh. "He probably ate the cat and the dog that was chasing
it. Now, he's ready for bed. If you look really close at his beak," Peter is
pointing so I lean forward to see what he sees, "you can see the white tip of a
cat's tail."

I
slap his shoulder and laugh. "You're an idiot."

"You're
going to invite me to bed."

My
face goes blank. "Excuse me?"

"I'm
not spooning with a vulture. God knows what he'd do with my little bits."

A
smile creeps across my face. "They're little? That's not the kind of thing a
girl likes to hear."

Peter
sits down next to me. "You realize the reply to that comment is that you should
come and see for yourself, right? Do you really want me to say that?"

I
try not to smile. I try to look serious but the corners of my mouth twitch.
"Maybe."

Peter
laughs and reaches for me. His fingers tickle my sides lightly and I fall back
onto the bed with Peter leaning over me. "Can I sleep with you, Miss Colleli?"

"That's
rather forward, Dr. Granz."

"I'll
keep my hands to myself. I promise."

"You'll
keep everything to yourself." He looks at me, confused. I explain, "When I was
younger and I first heard about sex I thought it sounded disgusting. I couldn't
imagine why anyone would ever do something like that, ever. But babies are
really cute and come from somewhere, so it must happen on its own."

"On
its own?" Peter gives me a confused look.

"Yeah,
like
it
"—I gesture toward his package—"sneaks over in the middle of the
night while they're both sleeping and does the deed on its own."

Peter
lets out a loud laugh and hugs me hard. "I'll keep it in my pants, Colleli."

CHAPTER
13

In
the morning as Peter loads up the car, I flip open the room bill. I blink at it
a few times as the bird waltzes out of the closet or wherever he slept and
jumps into the car. I think he adopted me, but I'm not really sure.

I
fold the top of the page back and look at Peter. "There's a $250 charge on here
for something. Did you order a bunch of porn after I fell asleep?"

"No,
and for that price I could get a hooker. Let me see that." Peter slams the
trunk closed and holds out his hand.

Placing
the paper in his grip. "Yeah, a hooker with a peg-leg, maybe."

He
doesn't look over at me. "You'd be the one to get a pirate hooker, not me. The
eye patch turns you on."

My
jaw drops open and I gape at him. "How could you say that?"

"Because
it's true. Admit it, you like the idea of a guy wearing a pirate shirt with burly
forearms with the smell of the sea on his skin." I don't say anything. Peter
looks up at me and drops the paper to his side.

"You
just described half the guys in Jersey. Damn, Peter, I have better taste than
that."

"Really?"
I nod. He glances at the car and then taps the bill with his fingers. "You sure
about that? I mean, you have a pet vulture."

"He's
a turkey. He's just misunderstood, that's all."

"He's
going to eat your face off in the middle of the night, and the $250 bucks is a
cleaning fee because this hotel is supposed to be pet-free."

I
pout without thinking about it. "He's not a pet. He's an accident victim. Something
ruined his wings."

"I'll
take care of this and then we can go." Peter starts to walk off toward the
front of the motel. He stops when I call after him.

"You're
right, maybe. I would like you in a pirate shirt."

Peter
turns around with a wry grin on his lips. "Oooh, talk dirty to me, baby."

"Maybe."

Peter
presses his hand to his heart and pretends to lose his footing. "Not here in
the parking lot. How can I control myself when you have a mouth like that?"

"It's
the lips you have to watch out for." I blink after I've said it, not realizing
how dirty that sounded.

"Sidney,
please! You're going to make me blush." Peter winks at me and jogs the rest of
the way to the front.

I
climb in the car and look back at the bird. "You're going to be a pain in the ass,
aren't you?" The bird has his head turned backward with his beak under a wing.
It looks wrong. Heads are supposed to face forward. "You need a name. Let's
see…"

Peter
returns to the car quickly and slips into the driver's seat. It's really cute
with the way he bounces into his chair and beams at me. Dark hair falls forward
into his eyes, making them seem bluer than gemstones. I forget what I'm
thinking and get lost in the moment.

Peter
grins at me. "Ogler."

I
smile hard and look away. "You like it."

"I
didn't say that I don't. In fact, you can fondle me with your eyes whenever you
want."

I
snort laugh and settle back into the seat after pulling up my feet and putting
them on the dashboard. "Wow, what a pick-up line."

"I
don't need a pick-up line. I've already got you, and if memory serves me
correctly, you're the one who came onto me." Peter pulls the car out of the
parking lot and heads for the interstate.