Page 38 of Forgettable in Every Way

“If you don’t want to, I understand.”

“No. No. Of course I’ll do it. I just want to make sure you’re okay with me touching your arse.” He grinned.

I wouldn’t exactly say that, but he was my only option. “Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope,” I teased. It was better than crying or thinking about the fact that I was in the most vulnerable situation I had ever been in. You know, besides the time I gave him a photo album confessing my undying devotion to him.

Simon chuckled. “You are adorable, Jules.”

I hadn’t heard that one before. I guess it was better than You’re ridiculous, because that’s how I felt.

He maneuvered himself toward the bottom half of my body.

I took off my helmet and adjusted myself to give him the best vantage point of my backside. The ache in my body when I moved told me I was going to have some nice bumps and bruises. They would go along well with the wounded pride and swollen butt.

“All right, love, I’m going in.” He sounded excited about the prospect.

I squeezed my eyes shut, like that would help me pretend he wasn’t tugging down my shorts. The only thing I could be grateful for was that I hadn’t tattooed his name on my butt. Had I thought about it? The answer was embarrassingly, yes. “I’m sorry you have to do this,” I mumbled. He was used to Penelope’s perfect butt. While mine was nice, it wasn’t rock hard like hers used to be, and probably still was.

“Don’t be. I’m enjoying the view.”

“Ha ha.”

“I’m in earnest.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Jules, you are lovely,” he said sincerely.

My insides liked that way too much for how they danced around. The dance party needed to stop. He was just being friendly. I tried to conjure up my Joan Jett side, but Cinderella was tougher than I thought. “So This Is Love” won out.

“There’s the little bugger,” Simon exclaimed before yanking out the stinger.

While it didn’t bring any relief, at least the venom wasn’t being pumped into the site any longer. “Thank you. The wipes are in the top pocket of my backpack.”

Simon gently pulled up my shorts before he went looking for the wipes. Thankfully, no one else had passed by. I could only imagine what this looked like to a bystander.

“Do you come up here a lot when you come home?” Simon made small talk while he rummaged.

“I used to.”

“What else do you like to do around here?”

“I love to canoe and kayak. There’s a great golf course too. Oh, and the Flower and Strawberry Festivals are coming up soon. You should take Jack. They always have face painting and carnival-type games and street performers.”

“Jack would love that. Do you know what he would love even more?”

“What?”

“If the princess came with us.”

I stopped breathing for what was probably not a healthy length of time. At least it made me forget my butt was on fire. But now my soul was, so I wasn’t sure that was much better. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Jules, I know I cocked up.”

I knew that term in the UK wasn’t a lewd reference like it was in the US. I also knew it meant he thought he’d epically screwed up.

“I should have never lost touch with you. You deserved better than that. Much better. My behavior in no way reflected how much you meant to me. How much you do mean to me,” he corrected.

Do not fall for this. Do not fall for this. I repeat, do not fall for this. And dang you, Cinderella, keep your love songs to yourself. Where are you, Joan Jett, when I need you most? “You don’t even know me anymore” was all I could think to say.

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