Page 50 of The List
“Yes?” My voice sounds dreamy and far away, and I close my eyes as Simon leans down to plant a kiss on my temple.
“Just one more question,” Henrietta says. “I couldn’t help noticing you have a fair amount of hair on your legs.”
I glance down. Sure enough, Simon’s bare legs are visible beneath the hem of his robe, and beneath the eighteen inches of space at the bottom of the stall door. Wonderful.
“This isn’t a problem, of course,” Henrietta prattles on. “Certainly, I perform massage on all manner of body parts with hair or without hair. I just wanted to see how you would prefer me to?—”
“I’ll shave.”
There’s a beat of silence outside, followed by Henrietta’s voice again. “Ma’am?”
“No worries, I’ll just shave my legs. How about you give me just a few minutes to jump in the shower and get ready for the appointment?”
“Oh. Yes, well. If you like.”
“I like,” I say, stifling my laughter as Simon slides out of me and brushes a kiss over my shoulder. “I like very much.”
Chapter 15
Simon
The rest of our getaway is amazing. Candlelit dinners. Midnight strolls under the stars. Mind-blowing sex on linen sheets so soft they feel like daffodil petals.
It’s like something out of a fucking fairy tale.
Which is the reason I’m trying to tamp down the romance now that we’re back. We’re at Cassie’s house a week later eating greasy pizza straight from the box. We’re almost to the end of the list, and saying good-bye is going to be hard enough.
De-romanticizing things might make it easier.
I watch Cassie take a bite of pepperoni pizza, reminding myself that this is just a game. She’s just a woman. Nothing magical. Nothing I should consider risking Junie’s happiness to pursue like some kind of selfish?—
“I know I should change clothes first, but I’m starving!”
Cassie grabs another piece of pizza out of the box on her coffee table and shoves half of it in her mouth at once. Holding a napkin under her mouth, she closes her eyes in bliss.
I’m glad. It gives me a chance to study her. To commit every detail to memory. She wears tall leather boots and a pair of black skinny jeans that hug every delicious curve. Her sweater is a soft pink cashmere that she explained was a gift from the sisters when they all went shopping today.
“We need to freshen up your wardrobe,” Cassie mimicked when she told me about it over the phone, her voice high in an imitation of Lisa.
I don’t know that I’d like her sisters much, but I have to admit I like their taste in clothes. Pink is a great color on Cassie, and the sweater looks soft and touchable and?—
“You’re staring.” Cassie finishes chewing her pizza and swallows, then dabs at her mouth with a paper napkin.
“You’re beautiful.”
She grins. “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls with a mouthful of pepperoni.”
“It is kind of a turn-on.”
I’m sure she thinks I’m kidding, but I’m not. I love seeing her like this. I love being cozied up beside her on the couch with a fire in the fireplace and a pizza in front of us. I could get used to this.
No, goddammit. See? This is what I’m talking about. How can I say good-bye if I can’t stop ogling her like a love-struck dumbass?
I pick up my own slice of pizza and take a bite. Cassie sets down her slice and boots up her laptop, then grabs the pizza again and takes another huge bite.
I pull the computer closer and open a browser window. “Okay, then. Our mission, should we choose to accept it, is to determine whether there is, in fact, a sex position called the Post Hole Digger.”
Cassie giggles. “And if there’s not, to make up our own.”
