Page 65 of Forget Me Not
“Alright then, Doll. See ya later.” He winked, and she turned away to hide her look of disgust.
Torrents of rain began to descend from the sky as she jogged through the cemetery’s iron gates.
Bastien
Augusthadbeenunusuallyhot that year. Bas found his runs with Syve ending more and more at the lake so they could dunk their furry bodies into the cool water. In fact, he had been considering asking Syve if she wanted to add a swimsuit into the clothing stash—the only thing stopping him was his own reaction to the thought of her in a bikini.
Something changed in the last few weeks, though he wasn’t sure what exactly it was. They went from running together at lunch nearly every day, to making out on the shitty little sofa in her shop, almost always failing to save enough time for food. He never pushed further than that,afraid even a wayward hand would be too much, and she would pull away. He felt like a teenager again.
This particular day was the first where they had planned toactuallyget out into the woods. Usually when they were meeting up for a midday run, they would walk over to the mausoleum from Sew It Seams. Any other time, like this one, she would drive over to his house.
They both agreed it would be silly to go anywhere else when leaving straight out of his backyard was the best chance to go unnoticed by anyone. Anyone, that was, other than Cyrus who was annoyingly only ever in one of two places—the Yerovi house or The Glass.
“Hey Pup, we going for a run?”
Think of the devil.
“We,” he drew the word out, gesturing between the two of them, “aren’t doing anything. Syve is coming over. Don’t you have a coffee to chug or something?” Bas checked his watch in annoyance, not at Syve—she still was not supposed to come over for another twenty minutes, but at the man in front of him who was almost impossible to bear.
“Sourpuss. I already got kicked out today, for the record.”
“Cy, It’s not even ten,” Bas deadpanned.
Cyrus shrugged, smug as ever and walked back into the house.
Right on time, the back gate opened and Syve skipped through, looking every bit a teenage boy’s Daisy Duke wet dream, just in unlaced hiking boots instead of a pair of Frye’s.Curls fell down around her. He had never seen her hair curled before, and the ringlets changed how the sun made her hair glow.
“Bambi,” he called out to her as she jogged over to the base of the steps to join him, satisfaction flooding his mind when she smiled in response.
Once before, she had asked why he kept calling her Bambi,thatwas the reason.
Openly feasting on her appearance, he grumbled, “We are supposed to be running for real today, and you show up here looking like that?” He licked his teeth with a groan.
“Here, I thought you wouldwantme out of my clothes,” she crooned back, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she slunk past him to head toward the trees.
Bas bit at his lip, contemplating all the ways this woman would be the death of him, as he followed her.
Crossing her arms in front of her to grab the hem of her tank top, Syve slowly lifted the garment off her body, all before she even reached the edge of the yard.
No bra.
Lord have mercy.
His brain short circuiting in surprise, he just stopped and watched.
Anger reignited toward Cyrus as he took in the cherry blossom branches that stretched from under her arm all the way down her left side where they disappeared beneath the waistband of her denim shorts. That had to be the tattoo Cymentioned before, and Bas had every intention of beating the memory out of him.
Syve slid her thumbs into the waistband of those little shorts, looking over her shoulder at him with a wicked grin. Then she shimmied them down over her hips, letting them fall to her ankles. She stepped free of both her boots and the clothing, standing now in nothing but a thin black pair of panties.
He was certain he was about to come in his pants.
She snickered and he begrudgingly removed his eyes from where he was memorizing every inch of her ass. When his eyes met hers, she winked, blew a kiss and then shifted, bounding off into the trees.
“Son of a bitch,” he laughed, tearing off his own clothes as he dashed after her.
After losing sight of her for the third time, he made his way to his little log-shed, sniffing around, only to find himself alone. Twigs snapped behind him, and before he could fully turn his head, a brown blur side-swiped him, sending them both rolling across the ground.
Syve jumped up, prancing in a few proud little circles before dropping her head behind the logs to dig for the pack—which she then carried over in her mouth and dropped on his chest.
