The Forgettable Miss French (Shadowvale Book 3)

by Kristen Painter

  He sighed and got up for more coffee.

  The pot was empty. With a grunt, he got to work making a new one. It was going to be a long night. With no time for a swim. While the coffee started brewing, he glanced at the pool. That swim last night had been great. Maybe he could use the pool as a reward if he hit his word count every day.

  He really needed to figure out what that daily goal needed to be. But he was a little afraid of actually seeing that number.

  Maybe what he should do was call John back and tell him there was no way he could get this book in that fast.

  But fifty grand was a lot of money to walk away from. Too much. He had to at least try.

  Too bad he wasn’t a better typist. That would help.

  He stood there, waiting on the coffee, but feeling guilty about the inactivity. There was no point in going back to his desk. By the time he got his head in the story again, the coffee would be done and he’d just be right back in here.

  Five minutes wasn’t going to cost him fifty thousand dollars.

  But he hated that feeling. That weight of knowing he should be writing. Could be writing. He’d gone through it with his first Tomahawk Jones book after his agent had sold the book on the first chapter. Easy had only sent it to Raina to read and comment on, never thinking she’d end up sharing it with a few editors and starting a bidding war.

  Seemed a lot of people in the publishing industry had been looking for his brand of thriller. Which was great. That auction had given him enough seed money to quit his day job at a high-end security firm so he could write full time. Wasn’t like he’d been a desk jockey there. He’d been muscle. Part of an elite team hired out when someone with the funds wanted protection.

  Basically, he’d been a bodyguard, paid to catch bullets if necessary and make sure nothing bad happened to the client.

  He’d been good at it, too. But having a job where the downside was death? That wasn’t so hard to walk away from. Not when becoming a full-time writer was the payoff.

  Living in the city had meant he already understood how to make a dollar go as far as possible. His tiny apartment had been testament to that. He’d walked to work, or taken public transportation when necessary. So living on that first advance had been tough, but doable.

  Now he was three years in and doing really well. Better than he’d thought he’d be doing at this point in his career, that was for sure.

  But fifty grand was still too much money to ignore.

  Which meant he had to gut it out, deal with the stress, and sleep when he was dead. It was like being back in the Rangers.

  The coffeepot sputtered, bringing him back to reality. He turned away from the pool and saw the cake box on the counter.

  Ginny. Man, he’d love to go spend the day with her. Or what was left of it. He had to figure out a way to get to know her better while still meeting his deadline. Maybe he could explain everything to her, see if she would be willing to be patient.

  But a woman like that… He shook his head. She probably had a pack of guys prowling around her. Why should she wait for him? He was a pretty good catch, if he overlooked the shifting issue, but he wasn’t going to be very available for the next couple of months.

  Wooing Ginny would be its own project. A woman like her deserved a man’s undivided attention, and his was about as divided as it got.

  Then again, she was a werewolf, like he was. Which meant there was very little chance she’d be interested in him once she found out about his shifting problem. Females generally wanted two things in a mate: a good provider and someone with a shot at being alpha.

  He had the first one covered. He wasn’t even close to the second. And if she was interested in kids, then she’d run in the other direction from him when she found out about his issues.

  Whoa. Kids? Where had that come from? He wasn’t even looking for a relationship. Or was he? He hadn’t been. Until he’d been captivated by her.

  But he was damaged goods. He couldn’t do that to her. And he needed to stop thinking about her in that way, because it wasn’t fair to either of them.

  Besides, if the pack’s alpha decided Easy was a no-go because of his shifting problem, Ginny would probably stop speaking to him altogether.

  With a soft curse, he refilled his mug and went back to work.

  This time, he managed to dig in and make some headway. Maybe a fresh pot of coffee was the trick. Or maybe his pep talk with himself. Or the reminder of how much money was on the line. Whatever it was, the switch had been thrown.

  He was writing again. Not as fast as he had this morning, but pages were getting done. He was just about to finish chapter two when his doorbell rang.

  He groaned. Not a good time. He’d been so close to a great hooky line to close with, and now it was gone.

  Reluctantly, he got up and went to answer the door. Whoever it was, neighbors, sales people, Girl Scouts with cookies, he wasn’t interested. He had too much work to do. And a chapter that had to be finished.

  Honestly, the next one needed starting, too.

  He opened the door. It was Ginny. He wanted to ignore all of his work intentions, but he couldn’t. He had to get back to the keyboard.

  But first, he was going to make a date with her. So he could tell her the truth. And see if at least they could be friends.

  That would be better than nothing.

  Chapter Eight

  “Hi.” Ginny gave Easy a little wave. She was nervous around him this time. That happened occasionally on a second meeting with a guy she found particularly attractive. Which Easy was. In fact, he was possibly the most attractive man she’d ever met.

  And it wasn’t just that he was handsome and physically fit. There was definitely a little shifter-pheromone thing going on. He was pushing all her buttons. Without even trying. At least, she didn’t think he was trying.

  The nervousness came from her hoping he was going to like her again, but it was compounded by the sense that, having met him already, she didn’t want this time to go badly.

  She took a breath and spoke. “I’m Ginny French, your next-door neighbor, and I know you just moved in, so I thought I’d come over and see if you needed any help unpacking or putting stuff away or whatever.”

  He smiled, the simple act weakening her knees a tiny bit. “Hi, Ginny French.”

  “I brought a cake over earlier.” Not that he’d remember. He was probably wondering where that cake had come from.

  “Right.” He nodded.

  Poor guy. Lots of people pretended to remember her. It was some kind of polite, knee-jerk reaction, like how people always answered “good” when you asked them how they were doing. Even if they were crying. She was so used to those kinds of rote answers that it would be weird if someone acted differently.

  He glanced back at his desk, then at her again. “I’m kind of right in the middle of something. Maybe you could come back in about an hour?”

  “Sure. I can do that.” Her heart sank. He was really good at the gracious brush-off. Of course he didn’t want some strange woman unpacking his boxes and riffling through his things. “You have a good night.”

  She turned and went down the porch steps, not waiting for his response.

  He called after her. “You, too. See you later.”

  “Right, later,” she answered without looking. She felt like crying, honestly, and she didn’t want him to see her face all weirdly screwed up.

  Not that he’d remember.

  She went back to her house.

  After this many years of being forgotten, she shouldn’t be reacting like this. Her skin should be thicker. Her emotions should be immune to the disappointment her curse always caused. But she wasn’t. Not with Easy anyway. Was that a good thing? That her emotions hadn’t grown callous? Maybe. But it sure didn’t feel good in the moment.

  It felt awful. Like she was trapped in an abyss, and no one could hear her cries for help. She let out a shuddering breath. Now she was just being melodramatic. But tryin
g to make light of the situation wasn’t helping all that much either.

  She stood in her kitchen, very much at odds with how to deal with the swirling emotions inside her. She wasn’t in the mood to make herself some boring dinner and watch some boring show. She couldn’t handle another night of that. And that wouldn’t take her mind off what had just happened. Tonight she needed something different. Something outside her usual safe routine.

  Tonight she needed anything that helped her forget the curse she was living under. There was no way to truly do that, of course, but maybe she could pretend enough to find an hour or two of solace.

  She had to get out of the house. Away from the temptation to do exactly as Easy had asked and go back over to his place in an hour. Being forgotten again would only make things worse.

  She might break if that happened.

  Step one for an evening out and an attempt to have fun was an outfit she felt good in. Not just good, but amazing. The kind of outfit that put an extra strut in her step.

  That meant a pair of skintight jeans, her favorite sky-high heels, and a very sexy black off-the-shoulder blouse. After she changed, she took her hair out of the ponytail and gave it a good brushing, then curled it a little.

  Happy with that, she touched up her makeup with a darker eye, a slightly deeper-than-nude lip, and a little highlighting.

  Simple jewelry, a small purse with the essentials, and she was ready to go. But where? She stared at herself in the mirror. She needed a place where she could mingle, but also a place where there would be plenty of men who could appreciate a woman.

  Club 42 was an option, but there weren’t many single guys there. Mostly couples. She thought a little more. Maybe the Five Bells. The pub wasn’t even remotely as upscale as Club 42, but she didn’t need upscale. She needed entertaining.

  The pub was never short on men either.

  Her destination set, she headed for the door.

  * * *

  Easy finished his chapter with a hook that wasn’t quite there yet, but it was good enough for a first draft. It had taken him less time than expected, which surprised him, considering he couldn’t stop thinking about Ginny.

  She’d reacted so differently when she’d come to the door. Almost like she assumed he wouldn’t remember her. How on earth did she think that was possible? They’d been lip-locked only hours before. And that kiss was the most memorable thing that had happened to him in a long time.

  Right in front of the bonus he’d just been promised.

  He’d been thinking, too, about her offer of help. If she was serious, that could make his life a lot easier. He just needed to tell her that, until this book was done, he wasn’t going to be much in the way of company.

  And he had to come clean about his shifting issues. There was no point in leading her on and letting her think he was dating—or mating—material. But maybe she’d be cool with being friends. He’d certainly be able to tell based on how she reacted to his confession.

  He hit save on his Word doc, then got up and stretched. He wasn’t sure he had enough mental energy to have a big discussion this evening, but he also didn’t want any more time to go by without talking to her.

  He was far too intrigued by her not to see her as soon as possible. Then it occurred to him that, based on her reaction earlier, she might not want to see him.

  Had he said something to offend her? He knew he could be a little short when he was in writing mode. What had he said? He wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, he had to apologize.

  Even if they were never anything more than friends, he couldn’t have the woman next door thinking he was a jerk.

  But first, he wanted to make sure he hadn’t fermented while he’d been at his desk. He’d been working nonstop all day, whether on the house or the book, and he didn’t want Ginny to bear the brunt of that.

  He took a quick shower, shaved, brushed his teeth, then dug out a fresh pair of jeans and a clean T-shirt.

  It wasn’t until he was walking out the front door that a weird case of the jitters hit him. The sensation really threw him. He was nervous. All the things he’d been through in his life, and this was what shook him.

  Ginny’s potential reaction.

  He laughed softly and shook his head. He felt like he was back in high school, about to ask Shauna Perez to prom.

  Hopefully, this evening would go better.

  He stood on the porch and took a breath. There was no telling, though. He went down the steps and across his lawn toward Ginny’s.

  Her door opened as he approached, and she came out, dressed to impress. And impress she did. She’d gone from smokeshow to five-alarm fire.

  He stopped in his tracks. “Wow.”

  She turned at the sound of his voice. “What are you doing here?”

  Not the reception he’d expected. “I, uh…” He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, undoing the grooming he’d just finished. “What am I doing here?”

  Her bare shoulders had knocked the thoughts out of his head, replacing them with brand-new, and rather inappropriate, ones.

  She sighed. “Yeah, I have that effect on people.”

  “I bet. Especially looking like that.”

  She smiled. A little. “Listen, Easy, I have to—”

  “I’m sorry about earlier. Whatever I said or did to upset you, I’m sorry.”

  The color drained out of her face, and she stared at him, a mixture of utter shock and disbelief flashing in her eyes. “What did you say?”

  “I don’t know, but that’s part of why I came over here. You looked upset and—”

  “No, what did you just say? About earlier.”

  “When you came over earlier, I think I upset you. I’m sorry about that.”

  She came down one step off the porch, but no farther. “Earlier. You said ‘earlier.’ I distinctly heard that word.”

  “Right. The second time you came over.”

  She looked like she might cry. Crap. He was really bad at this. “The second time? You mean you remember the first time?”

  He couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah. You, uh, kissed me pretty good. Hard to forget a thing like that.”

  Her mouth came open, but no words came out. Then her eyes rolled back in her head.

  She was going to faint.

  With more speed than he’d ever used before, he made it to her just in time to prevent her from cracking her head on the steps, catching her in his arms. She was out cold.

  “Ginny?”

  Nothing.

  He picked her up and tried her front door. Locked. Back to his house, then, because he wasn’t about to leave her on her front porch. Or dig through her purse to find her keys.

  He carried her to his place, got them inside, then gently laid her on his couch. He stood there for a second, trying to figure out what had just happened, but all he could come up with was that he’d once again said something to upset her.

  Enough that she’d passed out. He couldn’t recall ever having that effect on a woman before. It wasn’t nearly the thrill he’d imagined it would be.

  In truth, it was downright terrifying. Whatever had happened to her, he’d been the cause. He’d distressed another werewolf so badly, she’d lost consciousness.

  Was this related to his own worsening issues? If it was, he’d have to call John and tell him the book was on hold. Easy couldn’t let his problems affect other people.

  Especially not Ginny.

  He was pacing now, wondering if he should call someone. The only person he knew in town was Pam.

  He could take Ginny to the emergency room. He knew there was a hospital in town.

  He glanced at her. Still out. He bent and pressed his palm to her forehead. She wasn’t feverish.

  Although he might be.

  He straightened and scrubbed a hand over his face.

  This was not how he’d thought his life in Shadowvale was going to start.

  Chapter Nine

  Ginny blinked, opening he
r eyes. Nothing but a white ceiling in her immediate range of vision.

  And then a handsome, pacing man.

  Easy.

  Was she in his house? Seemed like it. But why was she in his house?

  The reason came rushing back to her at a thousand miles an hour. She sat up, swinging her legs off the couch so that her feet were on the floor, heart racing anew like it had before everything had blanked out. “You remembered me.”

  He was facing away from her, but turned abruptly. “You’re awake.”

  “You remembered me.” She repeated the words, the sentence so rare and spectacular that she wasn’t sure she believed it herself.

  His brow furrowed. “Of course I remembered you.”

  “No, there is no of course. No one remembers me. No one. Except for my aunt. And, well, Seymour, and he’s—how do you remember me? How is that possible?”

  He shook his head. “How is it not possible? What do you mean no one remembers you?”

  “It’s my curse. I’m cursed to be forgotten. Ever since I touched a stupid haunted mirror in an old plantation house. No one, and I mean no one, remembers me. They do while they’re talking to me, but the moment I leave their eyesight, I’m erased from their memory.” She snapped her fingers. “Gone. Just like that.”

  He grimaced. “For real? That’s awful. I can’t imagine living like that.”

  “It’s…” A lump formed in her throat. “Yeah, it hasn’t been great.”

  “All your life or only recently?”

  “Not all my life. But the past ten years. Which feels like all my life sometimes.”

  He let out a low whistle. “You poor woman.”

  “Not anymore.” He remembered her. She wanted to weep and laugh and dance and—holy smokes. She’d kissed him. And said things to him that she’d never said to any other man. Not in such bold terms, at least. She slapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled.

  “What?”

  She took her hand away. “I said I’m sorry.”

  “For?”

  “That kiss. And the things I said to you. I only said them because I thought you wouldn’t remember me. Oh my, I might faint again.”