Page 47 of Mourner for Hire
I cock an eyebrow.
“Now, before you say no, it’s not a date. I know you have a job to do, but you might as well have some fun while you’re here.”
I stare at him, waiting for the big reveal of what he had in mind and preparing to say no.
“Friday night is the annual Shellport Apple Festival. It’s a big deal. There will be a live band, beer garden, and food trucks. Everyone goes, and it’s always a good time.”
“I don’t know…”
“No pressure. But if you do decide to go, I’ll be at the Veterinary Hospital tent until seven and then I’ll be free to wander the festival with you. Maybe have a drink or bob for apples,” he suggests, his smile tugging at his lips.
This man is not at all my type, but there is something charming about him. And by the way Dominic has been treating me, I could probably use an ally.
“Maybe I’ll be there after work,” I relent, knowing I probably will.
“Work?” he asks.
I sigh, exhaustedly. “Believe it or not, I have an actual job that is a contractual obligation, and Annabelle isn’t the only person who ever dies.”
I cringe internally at my insensitivity, but understanding washes over his face. His brain connecting the dots. His realization that my weird job this town is learning about is, indeed, a real thing.
“Who died this time?” he asks.
I lick my lips and hesitate.
“His name is Benjamin Bright.”
“Nice name.”
“Yes, and a very nice man. Horrible wife, though.”
He cocks an eyebrow, and I grin. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
FIFTEEN
DOMINIC
Connor returnsto the restaurant with a shit-eating grin.
“Wipe that smile off your face,” I demand with a pointed finger.
“Nope. I got myself a date,” he says, flopping down in a chair at the table next to my booth. “Well, kind of. She might come to the festival tomorrow night. She said she has to work, though, and I’m sure her day will be unpredictable.”
“Work?” I cock an eyebrow. My brain simply cannot wrap around the notion of her job being legit. This thing where she has to show up to celebrate and mourn people she does not know for the sake of money.
The greedy little witch—makes my neck itch.
“Some guy named Benjamin Bright died.” Connor shrugs.
“I wonder what that’s like,” Eli muses aloud.
“What what’s like?”
“Her job. It’d be crazy to see her in action,” he adds.
My jaw tightens, and I lean forward, the weight of my upper half tipping this old booth toward me. His iced tea sloshes over the rim. “You did see her in action. At my mother’s funeral, if I recall. Then she ran off with her tail between herpretty legs.”
Eli glides his tongue on his teeth and grins. “So you admit that you’re still attracted to her?”
