Page 87 of Mourner for Hire
“Well, I have to work out of town tomorrow so how aboutthis afternoon?” I could use a break from all the renovations, and the dumpster won’t be here until later this week anyway.
His blue eyes go wide with excitement, a slow smile spreading over his face, reaching the sun-kissed crinkles of his eyes. For a flash, I can picture exactly how he looks when his favorite team wins the Super Bowl or how he must have looked when he was young, opening exactly what he wanted from Santa on Christmas morning. Or even better, how he’ll look when he sees his bride walking down the aisle.
Star-kissed eyes with a love-drunk smile.
Connor is adorable—and I hate to admit it, but he’s really growing on me.
“We can do that,” he said. “Meet me at Stanwood Stables? It’s just past Beach Street, near the water. We can ride along the beach while the tide is out.”
“That’ll be great. I’ll meet you there.” I take a long swig from my chai latte. Too long. Too thirsty. I glance down, realizing I drank eight of my sixteen ounces.
“Thirsty?” Connor asks.
“Removed all the wallpaper last night and then sanded the floors this morning,” I explain.
“Oof, you might be sore tomorrow,” he ventures.
“Not to worry, I’m in better shape than I look. And if I’m sore, all my wincing will be mistaken for mourning at work tomorrow.” I breathe out a laugh.
Connor does not laugh. His eyes go wide, and concern etches his tanned forehead.
Oops, I forgot not everyone uses humor as a coping mechanism. I don’t know what to say, so I just stand there like a statue made of lime and deceit.
“Well, all right then. It’s a date.”
“Sure.” I agree with his label so I can escape the quaint bakery with the door chime and bite into my donut.
It’s delicious. Fresh. Sweet. With hints of apple cider and spice.
But Annabelle was right. They are not as good as hers.
My step bounces a bit too much for my liking, and a surge of panic rushes over me. I pause my steps and pull out my phone to text Morgan.
Me
When was the last time I had sex?
Morgan
I don’t know. I wasn’t there.
I giggle at her response.
Me
I’m going on a date… sort of… with a guy that is so not my type. But I’m… excited?
Morgan
That doesn’t sound like you.
Me
I know.
Morgan
You’re probably just ovulating.
