Page 120 of Mourner for Hire
I breathe a sigh of relief just as I hear a scraping noise coming from beyond the beaded doorway. Slowly, I peek through the wooden beads and find Dominic in Carhartt utility pants, a white shirt, a backward hat, and glasses, fixing the mud on the hole we patched yesterday. His brow is creased, and he has mud on his left cheek.
“Hi,” I venture.
He glances at me, his gaze moving swiftly over my tanned bare legs and T-shirt. His T-shirt.
“Nice shirt.”
I press my lips together. “Everyone loves Billy Joel.”
He doesn’t respond, remaining focused on the task at hand. “I fell asleep with my contacts in and when I realized, I headed over to my apartment to get my glasses.”
“I see. I thought you just left.” A humorless chuckle brushes past my lips.
“Would you have cared?”
I swallow. “Listen. About what I said last night. I’m just not ready to?—”
“It’s fine, Vada.”
“It’s just that I’m going to be gone by Thanksgiving. December at the latest, and you’ve hated me for the last two months so you know, the prospect of us isn’t promising, and we shouldn’t complicate it.”
He gives the patched wall one final scrape and stands.
“We already complicated it, Vada.”
“I’m sorry. I got lost in the moment?—”
He cuts off my apology, shaking his head and stepping closer to me. He cups my face with caked mud on his fingertips.
“Your hands are dirty.”
He hushes me, and I restrain a smile. “You may have gotten lost in the moment, but I got lost in you.”
“You’re laying it on thick now, aren’t you?”
He kisses my forehead. “Just finally deciding to be honest and give in to you. I hate it.”
A helpless devotion squeezes my chest. “You don’t hate it.”
He stares deeply into my eyes, and I’m uncontrollably mesmerized by him. A thought traces the outlines of my mind until it hits me square in the chest: I am beginning toadorethis man.
“I don’t hate it. Not one bit.”
He sinks his lips on mine, and I relax in his embrace. Whilethe kiss is passionate, it’s also gentle and sweet—a tender discovery of his lips on mine. He pulls back, kisses me again, and then pulls back once more.
“I want to take you on a real date.”
I grin. “I would like to be taken on a real date.”
“Do you want your own horse?”
I groan. “I’d rather not with the horses. I’m already sore from last night.”
His eyes brighten and then darken like a candle almost going out. “Give me a bit, and I’ll come up with something else.”
I agree only with the slow smile spreading on my lips.
“Pick you up at six.”
