Page 142 of Mourner for Hire
“It feels like I’ve known you forever.”
“Because you have,” he answers.
I nod and pull him to me, kissing him with every emotion coursing through my veins.
“You wreck me, do you know that?” I pull back from the kiss, and he nips at my collarbone.
“Yes,” he whispers, low and deep as his palms encase my ribcage, outlining the curve of my back.
“I hate it,” I moan.
He kisses my sternum. “No, you don’t.”
I let out a small laugh, my defenses down because they quite simply do not exist.
Before we know it, we’re stumbling through the bar, and he’s flipping the neonOpenlight off, and then we’re upstairs, wrapped up in each other and the possibility of us.
FORTY-NINE
DOMINIC
I reachfor Vada as soon as my mind wakes, only to find cold sheets. I sit up and grab my glasses from the bedside table and quickly spot her wrapped in one of my flannel shirts, leaning against the railing on the balcony that overlooks the valley.
I meet her out there, wrap my arms around her, and kiss the top of her head. She relaxes into my arms, and I pull her closer.
“Daylight,” she says softly.
“What?”
“I get why you named the bar Daylight.”
My gaze follows hers out to the skyline. The first golden hues of morning light up the valley, illuminating every tree changing with the season, glowing shades of amber and rust. Every shade of fall, brighter under the flame of the sun.
“It never made sense to me. How is a bar that closes before midnight called Daylight?” She lets out a small laugh, and I smile.
“The view is my favorite part of the bar. But I guess I was the only one that got to truly appreciate it, and now, no one will,” I admit.
She hums in response. “It really would make a cool house.”
“I think so, too.”
“You get the best sunrises here, but do you know where to find the best sunset?”
“Where?”
“The cottage.”
She hums and shifts in my arms so she’s facing me. She reaches up on her tiptoes and kisses me. “I have to go. Meet me at the cottage at sunset.”
I hold her tighter. “Leaving so soon? No bagel? No coffee?”
“Ooh, tempting, but I have a few things to clean up so you can see the cottage and help me get it ready for the party,” she says, throwing on her clothes from last night.
“Oh, I’m helping?” I ask as she floats through the room, grabbing her belongings and slipping on her sandals.
She stops at the door that leads downstairs. “You better.” Then she blows a kiss and leaves.
As the door clicks closed, I look at the letter from on top of the manila envelope.
