What She Forgot (What She 2)

“You couldn’t tell?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“My questions didn’t seem too intimate?”

“Not at all.” Suddenly, the gears aligned in my head. “Was my question about shaving your head an intimate question?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not like I asked if you shaved your balls this morning.”

He choked, lifting his hand so he could cough into his fist. “Shelly,” he said on a groan.

“What?”

He chuckled. “Don’t ask me about my balls.”

“You just asked me about my armpits.”

“Armpits and balls are miles apart.”

I sat quietly, thinking about what he was trying to explain. “Yes,” I suddenly said.

He swiveled his head to look at me quickly. “Yes, what?”

“Yes,” I said. I winced. “Well, I don’t have balls, but I shave that same area. Does that make things seem more even? Now I don’t have to feel bad about asking about your head, right?”

He shut his mouth, the grin that had been lurking around the corners of his lips suddenly gone. He settled into his seat a little more firmly. He said nothing. Not a word.

“I just messed up, right?”

“Yes,” he bit out.

“Okay.”

For the next ten minutes, we rode in silence. He said nothing, and I was afraid to say anything at all. I wanted to impress him, not offend him. But I seemed to be much more adept at the latter.

Suddenly, he flipped on his turn signal and slipped into a parking spot on the side of a busy street. He reached into the back seat and retrieved a ball cap, which he tugged down over his bald head.

I pointed toward the brim of his cap. “Do I get one of those?”

He reached back and pulled out another. It was slightly rumpled. I took it from him and pulled it on, gathering my ponytail so my hair would stream out the back.

“Now what?”

He opened his car door about an inch. “Be right back,” he said.

“Where are you going?” I asked, but he was already out the door and striding quickly down the street. Damn, I hated it when I had to chase a man.

Chapter 11

Clark

I got out of the car, mainly because when I sat that close to Shelly, I had an insatiable desire to kiss the shit out of her. She smelled like cherry lip balm and cookies today, and I apparently had a thing for cherry lip balm and cookies, not to mention shaved pussy. I should have just said yes when she asked if I shave my head every day. I could have avoided all that talk about legs, armpits, and other places. But I’m an idiot, and I strode right into the conversation without even giving myself an escape plan.

Shelly was like no one I’d ever met. I’d dare say she was at genius level when it came to intelligence, but the bitch was unpredictable as fuck. I knew that. And I was still interested.

I turned left to go into the pawn shop I knew was on the corner of the street. The infrared alarm chimed loudly, announcing my arrival. Two men stood behind the counter, and one of them was scared shitless when he saw me. That was George. He was my guy, and I’d been looking for him for days.