Until Next Time

by Dell, Justine

  “You’re taking me on a date…in a graveyard?” Was her voice amused? Or angry? Quinn couldn’t quite tell. It was high-pitched and stunned, that was for sure. Her arms curled around her chest. “This is just…weird.”

  He chuckled, swinging the car around a tight bend deep in the cemetery.

  She scowled at him. “Why is this funny? This is not funny, Quinn.”

  After a few silent beats trying to control the rumble of his own laughter, Quinn put the car in park near forest at the edge of the grounds. He pulled the hand that was clutched to her chest and rubbed it gently. He was surprised she let him even do that.

  “Trust me?” he asked.

  Her beautiful tendrils of hair bounced with a shaky nod. “I’m sorry…I haven’t been to a cemetery since…” Her breath came out in a rush. “Since my father died five years ago.”

  Quinn mentally cursed himself for not considering she might have painful memories from a cemetery. He’d wanted to show her something different. Something that was beyond death. Something that could be learned from it.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “We can go if you like.”

  “No. No, you went to all this trouble to get me here.” She gave him a meek smile, glancing out the window at the preparations Quinn had made. “And it looks like you went all-out. I’ll be fine in a minute. This isn’t the same graveyard, so that helps.”

  Well, that was a relief. Quinn sighed. “Thank you.” He slid out of the car and rushed around to open her door before she stepped out by herself. “After you,” he said as he took her hand and helped her to her feet.

  Piper paused after Quinn shut the car door, continuing to eye the blocks of timeworn headstones, the perfectly manicured grass, and the trees which seemed to be locking hands around the edge of the cemetery.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Piper nodded again, her eyes still skittering across everything. Her gaze halted at the gazebo tucked beneath a climbing rose bush, a little uphill from where they stood. She squinted, probably noticing the table, pillar candles, chairs, and food. Finally, she smiled. A real smile. A weight lifted from Quinn’s chest.

  She gave him a sideways glance. “That the spot?”

  He grinned. “That’s the spot.”

  <<<<>>>>>

  Okay, Piper was pretty sure this was the strangest date she’d ever been on. And this was the beginning, for crying out loud. But as Quinn held out his hand, she took it without hesitation. He steered her carefully through the graves, constantly brushing his thumb along her palm. It sent unwanted sizzles to all the right places.

  A graveyard. She still couldn’t believe she hadn’t gotten out of the car and bolted for the nearest exit. She hated graveyards. She only went when she was driving the hearse. Then she got out of there as fast as she could. People were buried there. They were decaying, along with their headstones and memories. Graveyards were not romantic. Not that she needed romantic with Quinn. Or even wanted it, for that matter. She guessed it was better that he’d chosen such an outrageous place because that would make it far easier to resist any advances. Not that a person could actually pull off romantic in a graveyard. Sheesh.

  Once stopped on the single step to the rickety gazebo, Piper took in the scene. It looked better up close. Bursts of red and white roses scaled the side rails, creating a beautifully scented atmosphere. Candles were perched on pillars around the entire space. Dead center, there was a bistro table, the lace tablecloth looking brand-new. Two sparkling glass plates, one bottle of chilled wine…and no food. Piper chuckled.

  Quinn’s grip on her hand tightened slightly. “What’s so funny?”

  “No food.”

  “Oh.” He gave sheepish grin. “Be right back.”

  While waiting for him to return, Piper helped herself to a seat at the table, running her fingers over the intricate design of lace. The scene Quinn had set was indeed stunning; Piper had to admit that much. Even though they were at the edge of a graveyard, the atmosphere was homely, comfortable and, dare she say…a little romantic.

  “Back. Sorry.” He jumped up the step, holding a picnic basket. “Dinner is served.”

  She smiled at the childlike expression on his face. He shrugged, folding his tall frame into the tiny chair next to her. Together they filled their plates with expertly made finger sandwiches, wedges of gourmet cheese and fruit, and these amazing little crackers shaped to look like…she picked one up and studied it. There were names and dates on the tiny specimen.

  “Is this what I think it is?” she asked, baffled.

  His grin split wide. “You like it? I thought it was fitting.”

  Piper snapped the cracker in two and tossed a piece in her mouth. Her taste buds fired with wonderful Italian herbs.

  “I’ve never eaten a cracker that doubled as a headstone.” She cocked her head and regarded him carefully. “Did the same person who made these make that wonderful hearse cookie?”

  “Yes.”

  She licked the crumbs from her lips. Quinn dropped the cracker spread, and it clanged on the table.

  “They were both excellent,” she said. “My compliments to the chef.”

  “I have to admit it wasn’t me. I’m not that great in the kitchen. But Ma is.”

  Piper snatched another delicious cracker. “Right. She’s the one who fed the mass of people at your grandpa’s house, right?”

  “Right.”

  “I didn’t get to meet her.”

  Quinn took a bite of food, chewing and swallowing before answering. “You will.”

  Piper gulped down the lump that formed in her throat from the way Quinn had said those words so certainly. “You didn’t have to go through all that trouble, you know. Store-bought cookies would’ve done the trick.”

  A rumbling laugh rolled out him, his eyes glittering with mischief in the mix of low sun and candle light.

  “You’re special, I guess,” he said on a sigh.

  Her face went hot. She busied herself stuffing her mouth full of food so she wouldn’t have to say anything. After she finally thought she could control the ping-pong of sizzle, she spoke again. “Why the graveyard, Quinn? I think your tactic of asking me out alone was clever, but this…this has to be the strangest place I’ve ever had dinner with a man.”

  His gaze caught hers. “Romantic?”

  “Surprisingly, yes.”

  “Unforgettable?”

  “Positively.”

  He leaned back in his seat, studying her. “Then I’ve done well.”

  She looked down at her empty plate, unable to stare at the strong features of his face. The twitch of his dimple when he smiled. The soft observation of his eyes. This really wasn’t turning out to be a total bust. And her resolve to not like him was quickly slipping through her fingers.

  A hand appeared before her face. “Walk with me?” His voice caressed her senses. No other’s man voice had ever done that.

  She looked up, feeling out of place with her inner electricity acting like he was the cure for the fire beneath her skin. That thought terrified her, but she wouldn’t tell him no. He’d gone to all this trouble. There was this churning feeling in her stomach, making her wonder if Quinn’s trouble was going to end up being her trouble, too.

  Instead of following her instincts to put distance between them to quell the inferno she was feeling, Piper took his hand, reveling in the feel of his thumb caressing her wrist. Together they walked out of the gazebo, the grass squishing beneath their feet. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting shadows across the mossy headstones, and thankfully giving way to cooler temperatures.

  They stopped at a row of headstones all marked with the same last name: Smith. Each headstone, while faded and worn, was etched perfectly with names and old dates. Each also had a scripture of sorts. The first Smith had a bible quote, John 3:16. The second had line about the eternal fires burning and going home. The third had a children’s bedtime prayer. And the forth…Piper chuckled under her breath.
r />   “What’s so funny?” Quinn asked.

  “Look at the fourth headstone.”

  Quinn’s eyes slid in that direction.

  Piper read it out loud. “Here lies a man without his treasures. Had he’d known about death, he’d taken better measures.” At Quinn’s serious face, Piper retreated. “I’m sorry, it’s not really funny. I’ve never really read headstones before and that one sounded pretty silly.”

  “Silly, maybe.” His face softened and gave way to a smile. “But the survivor was also giving the rest of us a message.”

  “A message?” Piper’s forehead creased with her frown. “Aren’t headstones supposed to be like…a standard of saying goodbye? You know…here-lies-a-loving-husband-who-his-family-will-miss kind of thing?”

  A soft laughed rolled from his lips. “Yes, a standard of saying goodbye works for most. Other people prefer to make as a statement, like this one. It’s clear that the man buried here was greedy with his possessions and didn’t think death would touch him. The family was sending a message to those like him.”

  Piper nearly rolled her eyes. People learning life lessons from headstones? That seemed like such a silly notion.

  At her silence, Quinn continued. “Don’t you know about this kind of thing? I mean, you’re an undertaker, right?”

  “I hate that word. Makes us sound like Hell’s Gatekeepers or something.”

  “Sorry. Mortician?”

  “That’ll do. And no, we don’t know about this kind of thing. I don’t anyway. My funeral home isn’t in the business of selling headstones. Some mortuaries have branched off that way, but not me. I prefer to stick with the business of preparing the dead and caring for the survivors. Headstones are too cold, too stark for me to sell.”

  Quinn’s face went somber again, the humor draining from his eyes. Eyes that had lightened even more in the orange glow of the setting sun.

  At his continuing stare, Piper felt a sliver of nerves. “What?” she asked.

  His head cocked to the side. “It really is just a business for you, isn’t it?”

  “What else would it be?” Her voice was unintentionally sharp.

  He rocked back on his heels, giving her another once-over. She felt exposed.

  “One would think that a mortician had feelings about her customers…and those who passed away. You deal with death every day, Piper, you have to care. Not only about the business, but about the people.”

  She shook her head, casting her eyes away. “No. My position requires the perfect balance between compassion and detachment.” She sucked in an unsteady breath. “Give the family what they need and allow them to express their feelings. In order to do that, I must remain detached and objective.” She spun around, her words suddenly choking her. “In order to do that, I can’t become attached to clients. Otherwise, emotions would get in the way. End of story.”

  Hands gripped her shoulders. She tensed.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, Piper.”

  His words soothed her shaken nerves. Her muscles went lax. “It’s okay. I’ve never had to explain this to anyone.”

  “I imagine not many people try to get to know morticians on a personal level.”

  The humor in his voice made her relax even more.

  “True.” Spinning back around, she gave him a soft smile. “When I talk about what I do—how I feel—out loud—it makes me sound cold.”

  He stepped closer, his heat warming her skin faster than the cooling night air could chill her. “Not cold. Fascinating.”

  Her cheeks went hot. “I don’t know about that.”

  “I do.” He gave her a soft grin. “What would a woman like you have on your headstone?”

  A snicker escaped her. “The End?”

  He leaned back, jaw agape. “That’s it? Seriously?”

  “You got something better?”

  “Here lies a man who got all he ever wanted.”

  Piper’s breath caught at the sensual tone of his voice. “That…uh, seems fitting.”

  He drew closer, sweeping her hair back from her cheek. “Life isn’t worth living unless you live it to the fullest.” His eyes held a spark of an unasked question. “What do you think, Piper?”

  And Piper, God help her, had an undying need to close the few inches that separated them and kiss him. The sun had set completely, leaving them in low-lit gray mist.

  His head dipped, coming dangerously close to hers. His lips were right there, twitching with amusement. Or maybe it was a challenge. “Well?”

  “I think…” Her breath was all but gone. The ring of her cell phone snapped her brain from the fog. Piper jerked her phone from the small bag slung over her shoulder. “Downing and Sons Funeral Home,” she answered, still short of breath. “This is Piper.”

  She nodded and jotted a few notes down a little notebook she took out of her bag. “Yes, sir. Yes. Uh-huh.” Her eyes fluttered to Quinn. He had taken a step back. That was a relief. She’d been getting ready to cave. Big time. Lips on lips. Hands on skin. The whole shebang. Two more seconds and a couple soft words and she’d been on the ground, panting and moaning and enjoying every second of Quinn’s touch. But he would make sex intimate and personal. She didn’t do either. “Yes,” she continued. “I’ll be there within the hour.”

  Her phone snapped shut, and she jammed it back in her bag. “I’m sorry, Quinn. I’ve got to go.”

  “Work?”

  She brushed her wild hair out of her face. “Yes, sorry. It’s a twenty-four/seven gig.”

  His hand founds hers. “It’s okay.”

  As they made their way back to the gazebo to clean up, Piper felt Quinn’s eyes on her.

  “Why is the business called Downing and Sons?” Quinn asked. “I mean, you run the place and you’re a girl, aren’t you?”

  Piper laughed at his humor. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Thanks for noticing.”

  Together they crammed the leftovers into the basket.

  “My father wanted a son, hence the name. All he got was one girl…me.” She shrugged and placed the last item in the basket. Quinn snatched the basket off the table and wrapped his free arm around her waist. His grip was comforting and natural. So natural that Piper found herself leaning into him as they walked to the car.

  “They didn’t have any more children,” Piper continued. “But he kept the business name anyway, and then so did I when I took over.”

  Quinn’s rolling laugh made her stop short as he popped the trunk.

  “What’s so funny about that?” she asked.

  “We have that in common,” he replied as he stowed the basket and slammed the slid.

  “Your father wanted boys?” She couldn’t help but laugh. “Uh, you are a boy.”

  He walked Piper around to her side of the car and helped her in. He leaned in as she buckled her seat belt. “No, my mother wanted girls.” He closed the door and walked around the car, sliding into the driver’s seat. “She got three boys instead. And she wanted girls so bad, she gave us girl names.”

  “Macy,” she whispered.

  He nodded, a grin curling the side of his mouth as put the car in drive and pulled away. “Exactly. That’s why I go by my middle name, Quinn.”

  “What about your brothers? I think I saw them at your grandmother’s funeral, but I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself. What are their names?”

  “Delaney and Kacey.”

  Piper leaned back in the seat, enjoying the view of Quinn’s funny twisted expression. “Those can be boy names, too.”

  “Yeah. Del and K-C.”

  She laughed as he spelled out the K and the C. “I like your names,” she commented. “Our parents made do with what they got, I guess. Mine were happy.” For however brief a time. She sighed.

  He cast her a sideways glance. “Mine, too.”

  Once back at the funeral home. He walked her to the front door. His fingers were interlaced with hers again. During the date, their conversation had been so n
atural, so easy. It was comforting even though she wanted it to be anything but.

  Before digging out her keys and unlocking the door, she said, “I have to admit, while strange, this has been the most creative date I’ve ever been on. Thank you.”

  His grin was quick and devastating. And so was the soft stroke of his fingers across her wrist. “Women deserve to be treated special. And you—” his voice dipped low “—require special attention. It only took me one false start to figure that out. I’m glad I got it right the second time. Thank you for saying yes.”

  Another stroke, this time his finger stopped on her pulse. Piper hoped he didn’t feel it thumping fast.

  “I’ve learned nothing’s worth doing unless you go all-out. Put everything into it. Everything, Piper.”

  Her body stiffened. She twisted her hand from his. The night wind was suddenly cold on her heated skin. She locked her eyes on his.

  “Listen, Quinn.” Her breath hitched. “I need to be honest with you about something. I like you—”

  “I hoped so.” His face was curious, his eyes still twinkling in the moonlight. “Can I see you again?”

  Her mind raced with the implications of his question. While parts of her were screaming no, a more realistic part screamed yes. “I…uh…yes?”

  The roar of his laugh made her tingle. “Did you answer me with a question?”

  She steadied her breathing. “I’m sorry. Yes. You caught me a little off guard. Before I truly say yes, you need to know that I started this date with the full intention of not going on another one with you.” His brow raised a fraction, but he said nothing. “During the course of the evening, however, that notion got further and further away. I don’t do the whole love and commitment thing. We can date, have a good time and enjoy each other’s company, but I’m afraid that’s all I have to offer. So…” Her arms rose in display at her sides. “If you can handle that, then the answer is yes.”

  He stepped back, his expression mildly stunned. His hand rubbed across his smooth jaw. “So that’s it? If I promise to not love and commit to you, I can date you?”

  When he said it like that, it did sound pretty silly. But it was the truth. Piper didn’t do love. And without love, you couldn’t have commitment—end of story. Her eyes focused on his increasingly captivating ones. “Yes.”