What She Forgot (What She 2)

He lifted one side of the hinged counter and motioned for me to walk through. “Come on. You can help me get it.”

“Thank you, but I’ll wait here.” I began to tap my foot on the floor.

“Scared?” he teased.

“No, but you should be.” I leaned toward him. “Go get my fucking dress.”

His eyes lost the teasing glint that had been present. “I was just trying to get to know you,” he said, his eyes darkening. It was almost imperceptible, but I knew dark. And I also knew he hadn’t seen dark yet.

“I’m not interested in getting to know you,” I replied. “I am interested in picking up my dress, so if you’d go and get it, I’d really appreciate it.” I bit back the filthy retort that had momentarily rested on the edge of my tongue. Keeping it to myself was tough, but I did it.

He dropped the edge of the counter and closed the divide. “Be right back.”

I kept an eye on my watch. When five minutes had passed, I slapped the bell on the counter again. When no one appeared, I looked at my watch again. I was going to be late. I lifted the countertop so I could walk through, toward the back of the shop. When I rounded the corner, I saw him sitting on a chair, playing a game with popping bubbles on his phone.

“My dress,” I said loudly. He looked up for just a moment, and then back down at his game.

“Just a minute,” he muttered.

I walked over and plucked his phone from his hand.

He looked up at me, his mouth falling open. He reached for the phone, but I stepped back. “Your phone for the dress,” I said.

He reached to grab me, and I slammed my fist into his throat. He dropped like a stone, gasping for breath. I looked down at him. “You should have just gotten my fucking dress, asshole.”

I stepped over him and started searching the racks. They were labeled by date, so I went to the most recent group. I found my dress, laid it over my arm, and walked back across the room. He was still trying to take a deep breath. He’d be fine. I stepped over him again and walked out. I’d already paid, so I wasn’t worried about that. On a normal day, I would have left a tip for him, but this wasn’t a normal day and he wasn’t a normal man. He

was one of them. One of those people I despised.

He had better be glad I let him live.

I drove as fast as I could to the church, and then I went in the backdoor. I knew there were some rooms back here where brides changed into their wedding gowns, so I ducked into one and hung my dress on a peg. I really had to pee, so I ran across the hall and skidded into the bathroom stall. As soon as I arrived, I realized I really didn’t have time for a bathroom break after all, and I opened the door to leave, but my dress got hung on the sliding bolt on the door.

I froze, and then very gently tried to pry it free, but it was stuck. The dress I needed was in the other room. Maybe if I got out of this one, I could dash across the hall and get it, but first I had to get out of this one. I unbuttoned it and bent so I could slip it over my head. I stood there for a second, doubting the wisdom of my plan, but Lynn and Mason and their child, they were all waiting. My phone buzzed from the pocket of the dress I no longer wore. I pulled it out. It was Lynn wanting to know where I was.

I took a deep breath, opened the bathroom door, and stuck my head out. No one was in the hallway. I was around the corner from the sanctuary, so no one could possibly see me. Could they? I took a deep breath, stepped out, and then I froze, because he was there. Damn it. Couldn’t a girl have a weak moment once in a while without witnesses? The very day I decided not to wear a bra, I had to streak nearly naked through a church, and he had to be the one to bump into me.

I didn’t really bump into him, because that would mean skin-on-skin contact, and all we had right now was eye contact. That is, until his eyes started that slide down my body. My face heated and my pulse hammered. He looked away almost as quickly as he’d looked down, and his eyes looked everywhere but at me, which was good, I guessed. He could have been a letch. He obviously wasn’t.

He was a good guy, I knew that much. I knew because he’d helped my sister last year. And me, too, for that matter. Had I ever thanked him? I probably should do that.

I pressed my fingertips over my nipples and said the only thing I could think to say. “Why are you back here, Clark?”

Chapter 3

Clark

I never expected to find a naked woman in the hallway of a church. At least not at a christening. Well, she wasn’t completely naked. She was nearly naked, which was even worse. She wore nude stockings that stopped at the tops of her thighs. They were held up with delicate little off-white garters with tiny metal hooks on them. I was pretty sure that her panties were barely-there wisps of fabric because I had a pretty good view of the curve of her ass when she turned sideways. She covered her breasts, which I assumed were completely naked, with her fingertips, pressing her nipples down, dimpling her creamy skin.

But what surprised me the most was the fact that she didn’t seem at all disturbed by the fact I’d just intercepted her in the hallway of a church. Naked. Well, again, not completely naked. Just nearly naked. Which was almost worse than completely naked, because my guesses about the tiny little parts of her that were still covered were taking up my entire brain. They took up so much that all I could utter was—

“Umm…” I swiped a hand down my face.

“Why are you back here, Clark?” she asked.

“Lynn sent me to find you.” I jerked a thumb toward the sanctuary, which was two halls over and down about four miles. At least right now it seemed like four miles. Because I was with Shelly Punter and she was naked. Nearly naked. Fuck me.

“Shit,” she muttered. Then she looked up toward the ceiling. “Oh, so sorry, God,” she muttered. “Didn’t mean to do that in your house.”