Read Online Unforgettable by Shanna Vollentine - Free Book Online
Authors: Shanna Vollentine
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lost in sensation until I dropped the metal bowl I still had clutched in my hand, and it clattered into the sink making me jump and break the kiss.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. That felt good. It felt like a first kiss, with my stomach tingling, but it also felt comfortable. I realized I was holding my breath, so I dragged in some air. Wow, he’s a good kisser. I needed to step back and look at this situation. For all intents and purposes, we hadn’t even gone on a date yet. It was like if someone you kind of know and are talking with starts kissing you out of the blue. You’re surprised, even taken aback, but in the back of your mind you’re thinking “Hmm. I wondered what kissing him would be like.” If it’s someone good looking you might even take the thought further and imagine sex. Or maybe that’s just me.
Anyway, I did the only sensible thing I could do in this situation--turned tail and dashed out of the kitchen. I know it was cowardly, but I couldn’t care. I just had to get out of there. I got to my bedroom and shut the door. I flopped down on the bed and tried to bring my breathing back to normal. It wasn’t working. Even in here I was confronted with Ethan.
There was a picture of the two of us on the night stand, next to the old fashioned alarm clock. A button down shirt was tossed over the chair in the corner. The comforter on the bed was also not as I remembered. It was brown like my old one, but it was a lot darker and puffier. I closed my eyes and tried to get my bearings. Okay, so kissing Ethan wasn’t such a bad thing. What was I freaking out about? Sure, it was all new, but it wasn’t bad . I could, in some alternate reality, see myself possibly becoming involved with him. Unfortunately, I was in this reality. The reality where I was a thirty two year old blogger with amnesia and Ethan was my best friend’s little brother. Well, younger anyway, he was definitely larger than Carrie.
So I sat there for a while, feeling sorry for myself. I felt sorry about not working at the restaurant, I felt sorry about hurting Ethan’s feelings, but mostly I felt sorry about having no memory of the past two years. I couldn’t remember the good times or the bad. I looked over at the clock. Shit, the enchiladas would be ruined. I jumped up and hurried into the kitchen only to be met with a pan of perfectly cooked enchiladas sitting on the stovetop. I skidded to a stop and stood there. The kitchen was spotless. Ethan had scrubbed the pans, done the dishes, and put everything away. So, apparently he was some perfect guy, he cooks, he cleans, he’s helpful, and most importantly, he’s hot. Well, maybe not most importantly, but it’s pretty darn important to me. So yeah, he looks good on paper, but if everything’s so awesome, why can’t I remember living with him? It all came back to that.
I went to the pantry; I was craving some Mexican rice to eat with the enchiladas. I grabbed a jar of my favorite salsa to pour in and pulled down a pot. I hadn’t even opened the bag of rice before Ethan was back in the kitchen. I looked up from the stove and met his eyes.
“Thanks for cleaning up and for saving lunch.”
He nodded. “No problem. I’m sorry about earlier. I promised myself that I would give you time, but you leaned into me and I … well, I’m sorry.” He remained standing where he was so I went back to measuring out my rice. I wanted to pretend everything was normal, but inside I was in turmoil. When were things going to be right?
I put the lid on the pot and turned on the burner. He was still standing there. I guess he was waiting for me to say something else, but I had nothing. I looked at the clock on the stove, twelve thirty. Carrie would be here soon. That would take some of the pressure off, I hoped.
“I hope Carrie is hungry.”
“She is. She called me while you were resting.” I appreciated the fact that he said resting as opposed to hiding.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. That felt good. It felt like a first kiss, with my stomach tingling, but it also felt comfortable. I realized I was holding my breath, so I dragged in some air. Wow, he’s a good kisser. I needed to step back and look at this situation. For all intents and purposes, we hadn’t even gone on a date yet. It was like if someone you kind of know and are talking with starts kissing you out of the blue. You’re surprised, even taken aback, but in the back of your mind you’re thinking “Hmm. I wondered what kissing him would be like.” If it’s someone good looking you might even take the thought further and imagine sex. Or maybe that’s just me.
Anyway, I did the only sensible thing I could do in this situation--turned tail and dashed out of the kitchen. I know it was cowardly, but I couldn’t care. I just had to get out of there. I got to my bedroom and shut the door. I flopped down on the bed and tried to bring my breathing back to normal. It wasn’t working. Even in here I was confronted with Ethan.
There was a picture of the two of us on the night stand, next to the old fashioned alarm clock. A button down shirt was tossed over the chair in the corner. The comforter on the bed was also not as I remembered. It was brown like my old one, but it was a lot darker and puffier. I closed my eyes and tried to get my bearings. Okay, so kissing Ethan wasn’t such a bad thing. What was I freaking out about? Sure, it was all new, but it wasn’t bad . I could, in some alternate reality, see myself possibly becoming involved with him. Unfortunately, I was in this reality. The reality where I was a thirty two year old blogger with amnesia and Ethan was my best friend’s little brother. Well, younger anyway, he was definitely larger than Carrie.
So I sat there for a while, feeling sorry for myself. I felt sorry about not working at the restaurant, I felt sorry about hurting Ethan’s feelings, but mostly I felt sorry about having no memory of the past two years. I couldn’t remember the good times or the bad. I looked over at the clock. Shit, the enchiladas would be ruined. I jumped up and hurried into the kitchen only to be met with a pan of perfectly cooked enchiladas sitting on the stovetop. I skidded to a stop and stood there. The kitchen was spotless. Ethan had scrubbed the pans, done the dishes, and put everything away. So, apparently he was some perfect guy, he cooks, he cleans, he’s helpful, and most importantly, he’s hot. Well, maybe not most importantly, but it’s pretty darn important to me. So yeah, he looks good on paper, but if everything’s so awesome, why can’t I remember living with him? It all came back to that.
I went to the pantry; I was craving some Mexican rice to eat with the enchiladas. I grabbed a jar of my favorite salsa to pour in and pulled down a pot. I hadn’t even opened the bag of rice before Ethan was back in the kitchen. I looked up from the stove and met his eyes.
“Thanks for cleaning up and for saving lunch.”
He nodded. “No problem. I’m sorry about earlier. I promised myself that I would give you time, but you leaned into me and I … well, I’m sorry.” He remained standing where he was so I went back to measuring out my rice. I wanted to pretend everything was normal, but inside I was in turmoil. When were things going to be right?
I put the lid on the pot and turned on the burner. He was still standing there. I guess he was waiting for me to say something else, but I had nothing. I looked at the clock on the stove, twelve thirty. Carrie would be here soon. That would take some of the pressure off, I hoped.
“I hope Carrie is hungry.”
“She is. She called me while you were resting.” I appreciated the fact that he said resting as opposed to hiding.
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