When I walked in, Roman sat in one of the client chairs in casual clothing. I paused and stared–I’d never seen him in anything but a suit.
He looked up when we walked in. “I couldn’t get you on the phone this morning, so I stopped by.”
“Look, it’s Thanksgiving–”
“I’m calling on a client and thought you might like to come along.”
Temptation and curiosity got the better of me. “Which client? And why do they want to meet on Thanksgiving morning?”
Ezra chuckled, but Sylvie shook her head and pointed to me. “One question at a time, then you wait for an answer. We’ve discussed this. I’m going to grab a shower and start on the brownies.”
Ezra studied Roman, then sighed. “We’re eating at one this afternoon at my house. You’re welcome to join us.”
Sylvie cut in before I could protest. “You have to refrain from being your usual asshole self, and fair warning, the cousins are going to be there.”
My lips tightened, and I glared at Ezra and Sylvie. “What are you doing?” I whisper-hissed out of the corner of my mouth.
Sylvie quirked an eyebrow. “What? It’s just a meal.”
Roman smirked, then stood and inclined his head to Ezra. “I’d love to join you, mainly because Luna is so keen on the idea.” He turned to me. “I’m meeting the owner of the Wild West Wedding Chapel.”
My eyes went wide and I clapped my hands together, Thanksgiving dinner forgotten. The famous barn wedding chapel was one of those few remaining iconic places in Las Vegas that never seemed to change, and I’d always wanted to go inside.
“Yes. I want to go,” I answered quickly before he could change his mind. “Let me take a shower, and I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”
He leaned forward and sniffed me. “That might be a good idea. You smell like formaldehyde.”
I shrugged. “It’s embalming fluid.”
His nose wrinkled. “It reminds me of my college biology class. And my great aunt’s house.”
I patted his arms a few times, purposefully rubbing my hands on his nice shirt, even though I’d just thoroughly washed them.
He grabbed my forearms and stepped away. “Enough. Go shower.”
I grinned and quit teasing him. “You can wait in the apartment.”
Ezra stood. “I just invited him to the break room for coffee. He’ll be here in the office when you’re ready.” I got the impression Ezra didn’t like Roman in our apartment. At first, I didn’t like it either, but I’d gotten used to him coming inside when he picked me up and dropped me off. He hadn’t given me a choice.
A half-hour later, we were headed to the Wild West Wedding Chapel. My hair was still damp, but I’d gotten ready in record time. Roman turned to me and raised his eyebrow. “Did you just help Sylvie embalm a body?”
“Yes. I told you I’m a registered apprentice embalmer. I got my license a few years ago.”
He studied me. “Why?”
“They needed reliable help, and I was curious about what went on in the embalming room, but you have to be properly licensed. I’m happy to assist, but I don’t have Sylvie’s skill or finesse.”
“What’s your relationship with them?”
I shifted in my seat. “I already told you this too. Ezra was my guardian, Sylvie is my foster sister, and they’re my family now.”
He glanced at me. “What about Ezra’s nephews?”
By the tone of his voice, I thought I knew what he was asking. “The cousins? They’re family too. It’s like having four annoying, overbearing, obnoxious brothers.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, both of us lost in our thoughts. “You’re not what I expected,” he murmured, almost to himself.
“Thank you? You’re worse than I expected, but you’re growing on me–like foot fungus.”