Road Rage (32 page)

The straps tickled her cheeks as Derek lifted it carefully off her head. He treated her as if she were made of eggshells. Not far from the truth considering she had a roughly three-by-five-inch piece of her skull soaking in a refrigerator in the hospital. It would remain there until her CAT Scan showed the swelling in her brain had gone down enough to have the piece screwed in, along with a metal plate that would be part of her for the rest of her life.

She winced at her reflection in her bathroom mirror. She still had some yellow bruising around her eye, but the worst part of looking in the mirror was seeing her patchy, black-and-blue, stitched-up scalp. Her thick auburn hair shone with health after numerous shampooings, and looked completely normal from the top of her ears down, but above her ears, she’d been shaved bald except for a half-inch swath of scraggy chin-length hair. One might loosely call the limp patch of hair bangs, but she hadn’t worn bangs. When it had fallen in with the rest of her artfully-layered, seventy-five-dollar haircut, the strip had helped frame her face. Now it just looked like a sad comb-over.

“Last chance,” he warned, moving behind her perch on the stool he’d dragged in from her breakfast bar. He plugged in the electric hair trimmer he’d brought over for the occasion.

“Do it,” she said. “Put me out of my misery. I’d rather look like a chemo patient than a friar who likes to use his head as a battering ram.”

She watched a smile tug at his lips in the mirror, but behind his valiant attempt to appreciate her humor, a haunted solemnity lurked in his eyes. She’d been hoping that look would go away after his court date. No such luck.

“I’m so sorry,” he said for the hundredth time.

She snaked an arm behind her to pat his denim-clad hip. “We’ve been over this,” she reminded him.

“I know. It’s just–” He cleared his throat. “It’s going to take some time to get over the constant urge to kick my own ass.”

She reached behind her with both hands to pull him tight against her back. She’d already told him countless times she knew what he was going through; she didn’t need to say it again. So she just held him, letting her hands smooth down to squeeze his outer thighs. She leaned her head on his chest, showing him how much she trusted and loved him.

Holding her gaze in the mirror, he blew out a long breath. She’d gotten familiar with this expression, the way his eyes went unfocused, as if he’d turned his attention inward. This was his silently-counting-to-ten expression.

She waited patiently while he did what he needed to do.

Finally, he offered a chagrined smile. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

He reached for the scissors on the counter and began snipping through her remaining locks, cutting close to her scalp. As her hair fell in clumps to her bathroom floor, she blew out her breath and did her own counting.

After replacing the scissors on the counter, he flicked on the trimmer. A high-pitched hum filled her cramped apartment bathroom. He steadied her chin with one hand, and the trimmer met her temple with delicate pressure. He did the scrawny patch of bangs first, taking care of it in three swipes. While her lip quivered at the sight of her face with no hair around it, he started on the back of her head. In two minutes, she had nothing but an eighth-inch of auburn peach fuzz and a severe line of black stitches decorating her head.

“You’re beautiful,” he said as he moved in front of her, blocking her view of the mirror.

“I’m hideous.” The moment she’d said it, she wished she could take it back. Mortified, she searched his face for any sign she’d upset him, but his eyes had those little crinkles at the corners. His expression was soft with affection.

“Beautiful,” he repeated, dipping his head until his mouth covered hers.

When Derek kissed her, her world exploded with light and joy. He nipped at her lips with unquestionable devotion. He sent his hands roaming over her back like confident explorers. How could she not feel special when he gave his soul to her in the tender, serious way he touched her? Missing her hair was a mere drop of sadness in the swimming pool full of happiness she’d plunged into with him.

Things weren’t perfect, of course. Cade had returned to LA on the red-eye the night before, but between dinner with him and Derek and his flight, she’d had him over for a private talk. She’d taken Derek’s advice and told him how much he’d hurt her with his words all those years ago.

He’d said, “I was upset, Cams. I don’t even remember saying that.” But she’d noticed him fidgeting in his chair, which suggested he had more going on in his head than he let on. She didn’t want to trust the dream she and Derek had shared. Maybe it had shown them the truth. Maybe it hadn’t. But Derek’s love gave her the confidence to forgive Cade, whatever the extent of his involvement, and to forgive herself. She and Cade hadn’t become bosom buddies after their talk, but Cade had left her with a hug, and she’d be willing to bet she’d get a birthday card from him this year. They had a long way to go, but the journey to reconciliation had begun.

Having a modicum of success being honest with Cade inspired her to confess her doubts about whether her mother had truly forgiven her. They’d gone out for coffee this morning. Cami had attracted some stares with her helmet and the cane she used while rebuilding the strength in her legs, but the awkwardness had nothing on the way she’d felt, challenging her mother’s love the past eight years. She hadn’t thought anything could be said to erase her fear that their relationship was a facade, but her mother had proven her wrong. “Your father would have forgiven you in an instant, sweetheart,” she had said. “How could I not do the same?”

If only she had the courage to tell her mother Derek wasn’t just a serious boyfriend who had materialized out of nowhere when she’d been in the hospital, but also the man who had cut her off two weeks ago. Then again, maybe it could wait. About two seconds after meeting Derek in the hospital, her mother had started dropping hints that she’d been Cami’s age when she and Cami’s father got married. She’d never asked the name of the person who’d cut her off on the road that day. Maybe she never would.

Things could be better–maybe someday they would be–but for the first time in a long time, she had more dreams than doubts, more love in her heart than guilt. And she had Derek to thank.

She locked her arms around his neck as he deepened the kiss. Pushing off from the stool, she tried to stand and lean into her man, but his strong hands pressed her down.

Pulling back from the kiss, he reached toward the counter for her helmet, then lowered it onto her head so carefully she felt like a precious treasure. He had strong broad fingers well suited to working with unforgiving construction materials, but as he fastened the helmet under her chin, his touch was incredibly soft.

Only after he nodded with satisfaction at the perfect fit did he take her hands and help her from the stool. Thick clumps of her hair compressed under her flip-flops as he pressed the cane into her hand and led her from the bathroom. She refused to look down. With the helmet on, she could look in the mirror and almost imagine she had hair like a normal person. Seeing her lush locks on the bathroom tile would ruin the illusion.

When he turned her toward her living room instead of where she really wanted him to take her, where she’d been waiting for him to take her for days now, she dug in her heels.

“Derek.” She made her voice firm, proving how much she’d taken to heart his encouragement to be more confident.

He stopped and raised his eyebrows in question.

“You’re going the wrong way. Bedroom’s this way.” She took one step back, then two, dragging out his arm by their linked fingers. But his feet remained planted.

His face turned to stone, soft affection sheered away by something dark and serious. “I know where I’m going, sweetheart.”

She had no doubt about that. He never made a move without projecting absolute confidence. Derek always knew exactly where he was going and what he wanted. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to want her in a physical sense, not since she’d been DG. He kissed her like he loved her, but never took things any further. The rough-around-the-edges guy pushing her to toughen up mentally had been tiptoeing around her physically. She’d had enough. Her libido demanded some rough treatment.

“And I know where I’m going.” She let his hand go and turned her back on him to face her harvest-gold bedroom with its lace curtains and girlie-girl wicker furniture. It was tidy for a change, thanks to her mother’s obsessive cleaning. Derek had never set foot in it, even though he’d been to her apartment every day this week. She couldn’t wait to see her big, tough man laid out for her on her brass, full-size bed with its frilly skirt and floral-print shams. His naked skin would look deliciously tan against her white down comforter. She would stop at nothing to achieve that sight. Tonight.

Sashaying with a cane wasn’t easy, but she did her best. Tossing what she hoped was a come-hither look over her shoulder, she said, “Join me, if you’re man enough.”

Pretending not to care if he followed or not, she propped her cane against her glass-topped bedside table and sank into her comforter. When she glanced down the short hall connecting her bedroom to the apartment’s living area, she saw Derek standing with hands on hips, his eyes turned up to the ceiling as if praying for strength.

Acting the seductress strained the boundaries of her comfort zone, but seemed to be working. Her discomfort would be worth it once he gave in and gave her what she wanted more than anything: him. All of him.

She’d driven herself crazy, remembering their one time together. It couldn’t have been
that
good. Nothing outside of dreams could be
that
good. She had to satisfy her curiosity, find out if making love with Derek could make her see stars, or if that had been her imagination. Had he really flooded her with more love than her body could hold? Had a few magical nights in his bed really been worth going into a coma for?

She toyed with the flimsy collar of her button-up shirt. “You think it’s warm in here?” she asked, tracing her finger along her collarbone.

His gaze pinned her to the bed. Shaded by the lack of lighting in her hall, he looked dangerous, hungry.

“Oh, hell,” he said, and in three strides, he made it to the bed and crawled over her, stopping on all fours.

Her chest heaved with anticipation. She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought his mouth down to hers. “Miss you,” she breathed before she kissed him.

He didn’t return her kiss with as much enthusiasm as his gaze had promised. His kiss was…uncertain. This Derek was a far cry from the man who had made her blush with his aggressive advances when she’d been DG.

“What’s wrong?” she muttered against his lips.

Hissing a curse, he turned his face away. He framed her face with his hands, but held the rest of his body off her. “I can’t do this.”

Her stomach rolled. He was going to break up with her. Before they’d even had a chance to see where they could go together. “Wh–what do you mean?”
Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry
.

“Look at you,” he said.

She gasped. He’d just finished assuring her she was beautiful to him and now he “couldn’t do this” because of the way she looked? Her fledgling confidence was no match for a hit like that. She pushed on his chest, needing to be anywhere but beneath him.

“Shit, I didn’t mean that like it sounded.” He nuzzled her cheek.

She hid her face. If only she could roll off the bed and vanish from his sight. Of course, she’d have to escape the cage of his arms first, a cage that made her feel ridiculously safe despite her rising embarrassment.

He made a fist and thumped the bed a few times. “I’m fucking this up–shit. I’m sorry.”

She recognized his tone, harsh with anger–at himself. He meant the apology for upsetting her as well as for the cursing. She wished he wouldn’t apologize for cursing. She liked it because it reflected his passion and roughness. Derek was her blue-collar boyfriend, and she loved everything about him.

She forgot her embarrassment. “Don’t apologize for who you are. And you don’t have to apologize for finding me unattractive. I know what I look like right now–”

“Cami.” He cut her off and pressed his forehead to hers. “That’s not what I meant. Not at all.” He blew a breath out his nose. “You’re hurt. That’s what I meant. The things I want to do to you–” He gave his head a shake. “You need rest. You need sleep. You’re still taking meds for migraines, for crying out loud. You don’t need me pawing at you.”

The knot of dread in her chest uncurled, and in her sudden relief, her stomach jumped with the urge to laugh. What the heck. She let out a good, hard laugh. She’d been doing that a lot lately, laughing, enjoying life, having fun with Derek and Haley and even her mother and Cade.