Find Me in Manhattan (Finding #3) (10 page)

He stared at me for a moment before explaining. “I want you safe.”
Maybe not.

“I’ll be safe. Don’t worry about me. I’m a card-carrying member of the NRA. I shoot skeet better than my daddy, have killed a nine-point buck with a bow, and keep two guns tucked safely in the apartment, which my roommate finds unnecessary and absurd. While I may not have ever had to use a weapon on a human, I have no doubt that I could keep myself safe.”

A sweet one-sided grin touched his lips. “Sarah, you’re not as tough as you think. You need someone to look after you.”

“No, buddy, I don’t.” I patted his chest patronizingly and quickly regretted it, just as I had the first time. I could feel the planes of his muscles through his t-shirt, and all I could think about was what he’d look like without his t-shirt or pants for that matter.

“Come on. You’re coming with me tonight.” He didn’t give me a choice when he plopped the helmet on my head and climbed on his bike. With his hand held out to me, I had no option but to take it and climb onto the seat behind him.

The ride was quicker without the afternoon traffic. Riding in the open air was still exhilarating even though it was a bit cold despite my jacket and my own personal heater in the form of a sexy soldier. Shortly after, we arrived at his building in the Lower East Side.

He pulled his bike into the garage and quickly climbed off.

After Michael had helped me with the helmet on my head, he took my hand and led me to the elevator. His apartment was like something you’d see in Atlanta, dark wood floors and an upgraded kitchen. The difference? He could have ten of these apartments in the South for what he was probably paying. Real estate in New York wasn’t cheap.

“This is nice,” I told him as I checked everything out.

“Thanks. Amy, Phil, and I bought it when Phil and I came home. It’s close to the VA, and he was going in all the time. Amy couldn’t handle it all by herself. Once he was settled, they moved to their house and left me with the apartment.”

“They gave it to you?”

“Nah. They own half but consider it an investment. All real estate in New York is a good investment.”

“I’m sure.”

“Guest room is that way if you’re tired.” He nodded toward a small hallway with his head.

I wasn’t ready to go to sleep. I was still on a bit of an adrenaline rush from the night and the ride on the motorcycle, not to mention the proximity of the muscular man on whom I was developing quite a crush.
Let’s be honest. Who in their right mind would turn down couch time with Sergeant Michael Pearson?
No straight woman in the world.

“I could watch a little television if you don’t mind. I won’t be falling asleep anytime soon.”

“Yeah, me neither. How about a movie then?”

“Sounds great.”

He handed me a bottle of water as we settled on his plush black leather sofa. He turned on a movie, but we didn’t watch it. We spent the entire time talking about the similarities of our friends.

Then I asked the mother of inappropriate questions. “Is this how you land your ladies? You invite them over for a movie?”

Thankfully, he didn’t seem offended by my prying. “No. Not at all. I don’t invite them over for one thing. Some of them would never leave.”

“And you don’t exactly date them either, do you?”

He examined my face for a moment probably deciding how much to tell me. Then he shrugged. “Sometimes we hang out, but usually we take care of each other and go about our business.”

“How very honest and discreet of you. ‘Take care of each other.’ Is that how you describe it to the guys?”

“No, but you aren’t one of the guys.”

“Ha. Not usually.”

The conversation became a “get to know Sarah” session. He asked me question after question, like it was my turn to be interviewed. How long I had been in New York? What did I plan to do with my degree? What was my research about? Why did I pick this field? The more I talked, the more he asked. I had a hard time refraining from saying “highly dissatisfied,” or “moderately satisfied,” when he asked me opinion questions, while waiting the entire time for him to dig into the whole Jameson fiasco. When he finally did, it was simple. “So, you and that guy are over, right? You’re not going back to him are you?”

“Definitely not. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, and I’m a moron. I don’t know what comes with fool me three times, and unfortunately, I’m already the moron.” I hated admitting that aloud, but I needed to say it. The first step in closure is acceptance, right? I was accepting the fact that my prince charming might actually be the devil reincarnated.

We were silent for a moment while we avoided looking at each other. He took a sip of his water, and I watched him move out of the corner of my eye. This was the first awkward moment that wasn’t actually awkward at all. I broke the silence when I asked, “Do you have to work tomorrow?”

“Maybe. Joe, the head mechanic, will call me if he needs me or I’ll just go up there. We have a race this weekend so, at this point, it’s mostly just promotional crap that I don’t care about. That’s Randy’s business.”

“Who’s Randy?”

“The driver of the car I have been working on. Mostly we work on high-end sports cars, but Joe and I built Randy’s car from the ground up. The frame was rusted and falling apart when we picked up the car. We rebuilt the entire engine and replaced a few panels, tweaking it in order to turn it into a racecar. It’s pretty amazing now.”

“You seem to love what you do.”

He thinks for a moment. “I do,” he admitted. “It’s the thing that gets me up in the morning, you know?”

“I understand that.” I wanted to ask him more about his passion for cars, but I was already in too deep with him. In the light of day tomorrow, when he could no longer be a part of my life, I would regret knowing too much about him. It would make it that much harder to forget him.

“What about you?”

“Oh, I don’t know anything about cars.”

He silently chuckled. “No. I mean, do you have to work tomorrow?”

“No and yes. I don’t have anything scheduled, but I planned a weekend of transcribing interviews and data entry. I meet with Dr. Wright on Monday about the status of the project. I’m hoping to impress him with how much I have completed so far.”

“I have no doubt Dr. Wright is impressed with you.”

“Thank you for saying that, but you have no idea what I’m up against.”

“Maybe not, but I know firsthand how professional you are, and I can guess what a hard worker you are.”

I felt my cheeks heat with his reference to my slip-up earlier that day. “I really am sorry about that. I didn’t know how to handle you,” I told him honestly. “Normally, I would flirt back, and we’d have some sexually driven repartee before going our separate ways, but the recording and all this with Jameson threw me off today.”

He waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it. I was teasing you. I’m sorry for being a dick. It’s easier to be a total asshole than talk about the stuff you were asking.” He grimaced when he realized he had practically admitted to being fragile.

“Hey.” I reached out for his hand. “I get it.”

He took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. “If you wanted to know anything else, you can ask. I owe you that.”

This was my chance. I could ask him anything I wanted right here, right now. I glanced up into his eyes, and he almost seemed frightened of what I might want to know. I didn’t want to end our night at a low point, so instead of asking personal and invasive questions, I smiled and squeezed his hand. “Nah. I think we’ve had enough for today. If you don’t mind, I’d like to try to get some sleep.”

“Sure.” He looked relieved, and I knew I made the right choice. “It’s late.”

We said our goodnights and went our separate ways. In his guest room, I stripped down to my cami and panties and climbed into bed. I really was tired, so my brain thankfully didn’t replay the events of the day before I fell asleep. Just before everything went still, I told myself I couldn’t allow myself to even consider getting involved with Michael, and not just because I needed to remain professional with him. Most of me believed he would end up being another disappointment, just like every other toad I had kissed.

Michael

She was in the next room…sleeping. This was the first time I’d ever had a girl stay in the guest room. I hadn’t been lying when I told her I didn’t bring women here. I learned my lesson more than once about the crazy ones who thought they could make themselves at home then reappear whenever they wanted. I hated having to hurt a woman’s feelings because she misunderstood my intentions after I had plainly laid them out for her.

Now, I found myself in a completely new situation. I wanted the girl to stay. I wanted to stay up all night talking, which was beyond ridiculous considering how I felt about talking. Given the right circumstances, I would prefer to spend our time doing other things, but I knew it was unwise to even consider treating her like I treated other girls. For one, I didn’t see Sarah letting me get away with that. She knew she was worth more than that.

The other reason that came to mind was a little more complicated. In the few hours I had spent with Sarah, I already felt more for her than any other girl I had ever met, and that was incredibly frightening for a guy like me. I didn’t think I could laugh like that anymore. If someone had asked me this morning if I could forget what happened for even a few minutes, I would have said no, especially not while sitting across from Phil and Moretti. But I would have been mistaken. Sarah made me forget everything but her. I was no longer empty in her company, and I would have done almost anything to continue feeling what I’ve felt the past few hours with her. I even thoughtlessly offered to talk about what happened if she wanted. I shudder to think what would have happened if she’d pried. It bothered me that I was willing to open up just to keep her blue eyes on me. Fortunately, she saved me from the impending doom by heading to bed. Although, now I sat alone in my living room with the image of her head resting against the back of the couch and her legs tucked under her while she actually slept fifty feet away.

I should have gone to bed when she did, but I couldn’t take a sleeping pill while she was there. I also couldn’t risk having the dreams, either. It was one thing for her to know about them. It was another for her to hear them. As willing as I was to open up, I would rather keep the hell inside of me hidden from her light.

As if my thoughts conjured the noise, I heard what sounded like whimpering come from the other room. I froze and listened carefully. The sound continued, and I had no doubt something was wrong.

I gently knocked on the door. “Sarah?”

No answer, only what sounded like weeping.

I knocked again slightly louder. “Sarah, you okay?”

No answer.

I cracked the door open, and I saw her writhing on the bed as if she was trying to escape. I knew all too well what was happening, but I had never been on this side. I didn’t know what to do. When I was in the thick of a nightmare, I wished someone would wake me, so I stepped into the room and gently rested my hand on her shoulder. “Sarah, wake up. It’s a dream.” I didn’t know if she could hear me, but I hoped she could. I hoped she wouldn’t be afraid when she woke up. I gently shook her this time. “Sarah,” I said again.

Suddenly, she gasped for a deep breath and sat up straight in the bed. She looked around and found me sitting on the bed next to her. Her big blue eyes were wide and terrified when they met mine right before she registered who was in the room and burst into tears. She brought her hands to her face to hide the crying. This was certainly unfamiliar territory for me. I had a sister, but she was older than I was. I never really saw her cry much growing up, and I never saw her at all anymore. Amy wasn’t a crier, and none of the girls I had spent time with had a chance to get emotional. I was out of my league.

I realized I was holding my hands up in surrender, so I dropped them to my lap in an effort to appear calmer than I felt. Right as I was considering calling Amy for help, Sarah attempted to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what…” She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

“It was just a bad dream.”

I should have kept my mouth shut because that caused a fresh round of body-wracking sobs from her. She fell forward against my chest, and I had nothing else to do but hold her while she cried. “It’ll be okay,” I promised. And it would be, even if I had to make sure the son of a bitch never hurt her again myself. I stroked her long blond hair and rubbed her back like my mom did when I was sick as a kid. It seemed natural to hold her this way, and I wished this were what it could be like for me.

When she cried herself to sleep, I laid down with her in my arms. Surprisingly, she snuggled closer to me. Her hands tucked between us, and her head rested on me. It was then I realized how little we were dressed in. I only had on a pair of lounge pants. With her leg thrown over the covers, I saw she was in a little tank top with thin straps and panties; light pink panties like the sweet angel she was. I had my very own Victoria’s Secret model snuggled against me with a tear-stained face and the sexiest body I had ever touched. My armor cracked a little more, and at that moment, I knew Sarah would be the one to break me.

Sarah

Michael brought me home after I texted Lana the next morning and she let me know the coast was clear. After a long discussion about how to keep me safe in the future, he made me promise to file a restraining order against Jameson. I made a point to call Maggie and Parker that day to find out more about the process. It paid to have friends who were also lawyers.

Michael offered to go with me to the police, but I brushed him off. Not only had I humiliated myself by crying like a baby on him, but I also woke up looking like a troll with smeared mascara and wild frizzy hair. To make matters that much worse, I had one leg thrown over his sleeping body and my arms wrapped around him. The sheets were no longer tightly tucked military style. They were bunched up between our legs. At least he was asleep, and I knew that was a feat for him based on what he shared during his interview.

I tried to climb out of the bed without disturbing him, but I wasn’t that smooth. We were forced to have the awkward morning after moment with none of the sexual exploits of the night before.

He sat up and scrubbed his face then turned to me. “You okay?”

“I’m great.” I smiled brightly as I tried to pull my hair into a ponytail and hide my splotchy face from him.

“Wow. That couldn’t have been less believable if you tried.”

I laughed at his honesty. We had tried to avoid it, but somehow we understood each other. “I could use coffee.”

“Me, too,” he agreed and climbed out of bed to head to the kitchen. The rest of the morning went by smoothly except the “what to do now” talk. He wanted to go to the police, and I wanted to forget Jameson ever existed. After I had promised to call the officer who took my original statement, I headed into my building with the heat of his gaze warming me and making me feel a little fluttery. I scolded my stupid heart. Had she already forgotten what happened the last time she liked a guy? He turned out to be a psycho. But my heart fluttered a little more, reminding me that Michael was the dream guy. I was torn between feeling something for the big, strong soldier who let me cry on his shoulder and knowing my history proved I had terrible taste in men. Why did men have to be my Achilles’ heel? I was pathetic.

It didn’t help that Lana bombarded me when I arrived home either. She made me call Dr. Wright without delay.
Let’s be clear about something. Nobody makes me do anything.
Mama and Daddy always said I was stubborn, and I knew I was, but the way Lana verbally manhandled me made me do whatever she told me. And I hated every second of it.

Speaking to Dr. Wright wasn’t encouraging, either. He said, “I’m sorry, Sarah, but there’s nothing I can do. You’re going to have to file an official report with the police if he’s bothering you outside of school.”

“I understand, Dr. Wright, and I have filed a report. The police offered to ‘look into it,’ which they obviously haven’t done if he is still calling me and following me. I’m only asking that you not ask me to work with him or be near him. He’s dangerous and, frankly, unstable.”

“Yes, it seems that way. I’m appalled at his behavior; he knows that, but other than removing him from my study, which I’ve done, my hands are tied. As it is, he’s going to have to catch up from his missing class time and find a new supervising professor. That should keep him too busy to bother you.” I had a feeling my professor wasn’t taking me seriously, but honestly, it wasn’t his job to help me with anything other than getting my Ph.D.

Maggie started crying again when I told her everything that had happened. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you, Sarah. You really do need to go to the judge to file that order of protection now. Your safety is the most important thing.”

“I know,” I groaned loudly while pulling at the roots of my hair. “I just don’t want to have to deal with all of this.”

“I understand. I wouldn’t either, but he can’t be allowed to hurt you,” she sniffled.

“Thanks for being supportive. I’ve never cried this much in my life.”

“Tell me about it. It isn’t even happening to me, and I’m a mess. Hormones.”

I froze. “Are you-”

“Pregnant? Yes.”

“What?! When?”

“Vegas,” she said dryly. “Effing Vegas.”

“What happens there doesn’t stay there, I guess.”

“Guess not.”

“What were you doing in Vegas?”

“Don’t shoot me, but Alexis and Billy got married. She’s pregnant, so they had a shotgun wedding.”

“Billy’s marrying the bitch troll? Seriously?” I land all the crazies, and the girl who tried to destroy Maggie’s life is marrying my ex.
Great. Just great.

“Yes. I didn’t want to tell you with everything else going on, but they got married in a tacky Vegas wedding.”

“Of course, they did.”

I didn’t know what else to say to Maggie, so I told her I had work to do. I knew she wanted to say more, but I didn’t give her the chance. I needed…I didn’t know what I needed, but to be reminded of my inability to find a good guy wasn’t it. I could feel the frustration building inside of me. I wanted to scream, and I feared I might if one more thing pushed me over the edge. I took several deep breaths trying to relax. Once I felt like I had some semblance of control over my emotions, I lifted my chin then flipped my hair over my shoulder. I didn’t have time to be emotional.

Focus.
I needed to focus on work. With my laptop on a pillow in front of me and my iPad propped next to me, I started transcribing the interviews for the week. I lost myself in my work and didn’t even notice when the sun went down. It wasn’t until Lana came in later that night that I realized how much time had passed.

“Did you even stop to eat?” she greeted.

“Huh?”

She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Eat. Food. Substance. I prefer Cheetos and Mountain Dew, but some people like vegetables and other crap.”

“Oh. No. Oops.”

“Oops? You’re such a freak. We’re doing something fun tomorrow. Danny’s covering my shifts at the lab for me. Get some sleep.” She was oddly happy for her, and as I fell asleep that night, I wondered what Lana considered fun.