Page 21 of Deep Feelings & Shallow Graves

“How does this work? Do I need to make an appointment to rent the oven or what?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual while the rest of me fixates on what he might be hiding under that neatly pressed suit. Piercings? Oh, I bet his nipple is pierced. Just the one, though, symmetry’s for cowards.

“How many man-sized dogs are we talking about? What state of decomposition?” He tilts his head like a raven listening for death rattles. He knows what I’m asking for. He knows what I’m asking. He has to.

“Several. I’m very unlucky with dogs. Especially the kind with ex-wives and pickup trucks.” I slice another bite of éclair and chew slowly. Trying to sound normal. Boring. Not aroused by cremation logistics. “I imagine some would be just bones. Others might be...” I take a sip of coffee. “Fresh. As in… this week.”

He hums, low and thoughtful. That sound would feel so good against my thighs. Or anywhere, honestly. And where are his red flags? He should have at least one. Maybe the part where he’s casually willing to burn a pile of unverified corpses for me, but considering all things it’s a green light.

“I’m free tonight. Or do you need time to gather them?” he asks. “We can space it out over a few nights if needed.”

He doesn’t offer to excavate and that’s probably smart. He’ll need plausible deniability if Carson asks questions.

“I can make a start. Depends how many I can fit in my SUV.” I swirl the last of my éclair in the melted chocolate and pop it into my mouth. “Some might be foldable.”

He wipes his fingers on a cloth napkin like we’re discussing lawn care. “Would you like a bone saw?” he offers. “I have a spare. A nice one. It’ll make the work easier for the fresh ones. And should you suffer another dog.”

Okay. He’s arming me now. This is either a dream, a felony, or the best date of my life.

“That’s... sweet,” I say, because what else does one say when a man offers you his backup bone saw?

He stands smoothly, his fingers trailing across the table as he picks up his empty plate.

“You brought me raspberry crumble,” he says, like that explains everything. “Icing still warm. On the side. That’s girlfriend behavior.”

Well. Shit. “Should I bring dinner tonight?” I ask before I can stop myself.

He smirks like he already knows how this ends. “I’ll sort that. Any allergies? Dietary restrictions?”

“No. I mean, I’m not a fan of mushrooms. It’s a texture thing,” I say, standing.

“Noted.” He clears our mess with precision that makes me think he absolutely alphabetizes his lube.

I wait while he brings me the saw, in a container that’s part concealment part murder chic and then he walks me to the door with quiet finality, like we haven’t just discussed dismemberment and dinner in the same breath.

“Tonight, bring your dogs to the back entrance. After seven,” he says.

Dogs. Sure. Right. The dogs.

I nod like a woman who isn’t vibrating out of her skin with a crush on the local undertaker and turn to leave, already fantasizing about the sound of a bone saw and that goddamn hum against my throat. If I don’t get railed against a coffin by the end of this week, I might start biting people out of sheer spite

Chapter Nine

Jennifer

I swear, as I drive toward the hardware store, I half expect animated woodland creatures to appear, birds, raccoons, a helpful possum, all dragging triple-lined, leak-proof trash bags and something industrial to line my SUV with. Maybe a tarp woven from the broken dreams of men who thought calling me “feisty” was a compliment. This really should be a nighttime chore, but hell, who’s going to think twice about me doing some good old-fashioned daylight gardening?

I text Derik from the parking lot.

Date two?

He replies in less than a minute.

My place?

Of course he didn’t hear a single word when I told him I don’t go home with strange men. They never do. Not until they’re screaming “why are you doing this” mid-chloroform.

Sure, tomorrow I reply, because I do love an optimist. I pocket my phone, grab my purse, and head inside.

Aside from trash bags and a better shovel, what else do I need?

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