by Megan Hart
He gave me easy and succinct directions to a section of Harrisburg that wasn’t exactly the stomping grounds of the well-to-do. It should’ve taken about ten minutes to get there, even in heavy traffic, but with the rain we spent closer to twenty. I tried not to keep looking at my watch, but three-thirty was creeping closer and closer and I was still forty-five minutes from home. By the time I pulled up in front of the building Jack directed me to, I had only an hour and a half to get home and get ready for the appointment. I wouldn’t be late—I hoped—but I’d spent most of the day away from the office, and God only knew what awaited my return.
I meant only to drop him off and be on my way, but just as I pulled up to the curb, a delivery truck lumbered down the narrow alley toward us. “What the hell? Isn’t this street one-way?”
Jack snorted. “Yes. That dude’s a moron. This is, like, the third time he’s done this.”
I looked out my fogged-up back window. Backing up would take driving skill I didn’t have, not to mention send me down the street in Reverse and going the wrong way. “I hope he makes it fast. I really need to get going.”
“Hold on. I’ll check.”
Before I could stop him, Jack had hopped out of the car and run through the rain toward the delivery truck, where he pounded on the door until the driver opened it. I saw waving hands and gestures but couldn’t hear what they were saying. In moments Jack was back in my car, sliding across the vinyl seat and slamming the door. He was soaked.
“Says it should only take ten minutes.”
“Great.” I slapped the wheel with the flat of my hand and looked at my watch. “I hope he hurries.”
“Are you going to be late?”
“I hope not.” I sighed.
“Maybe you can call your office?” He offered helpfully. “Reschedule?”
“Thanks, but I can’t, really.” The best I could do was call Jared and tell him to start the process with the family, but they hadn’t decided to come to Frawley and Sons to have Jared take care of their mother. They’d asked for my business because of me, or more likely because of my dad. I trusted Jared to handle the paperwork, but if I had to miss the appointment with the family, I’d be letting them down.
“I’m sorry,” Jack said.
Pulled from my musings, I looked up at him. “For what?”
“You shouldn’t have given me a ride. Then you wouldn’t be late.”
“Oh, Jack. It’s okay. Don’t worry about that,” I told him, even though he was right and I’d been thinking it myself a moment before. “I couldn’t let you ride in the rain. Look at it out there.
You’re still dripping.”
I reached into the backseat and grabbed an old sweatshirt emblazoned with my college emblem. “Wipe yourself off.”
He dried his face and ran it over his hair, then looked at it. “Your sweatshirt? Thanks.”
I laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I left it in there months ago and haven’t worn it. Or missed it. It can stand a little wetness.”
Jack grinned. His damp hair clung to the sides of his cheeks, and on impulse I reached out to smooth away one sleek piece. He turned his face to push his mouth against my hand.
One small, perfect moment.
I don’t know how I managed to get onto Jack’s lap without impaling myself on the gearshift, but I did it. I straddled him with his face in my hands and his hungry mouth devouring mine. I tasted pizza and rain and felt his wet hair on the backs of my hands. My skirt rode up as his hands slid up my thighs. I wasn’t wearing stockings, and his shirt dampened my skin.
Jack’s hands cupped my ass, pulling me closer. My crotch ground against his belt buckle, the metal cold through the thin satin of my panties. My nipples rose in taut peaks through the lace of my bra. Jack reached to nudge open the buttons on my blouse and pushed his face against my skin. His lips tightened on one nipple, the heat of his mouth a sharp contrast to the chill of his rain-wet skin.
I was in the middle of a moan when the bleat of the delivery truck startled me so much I hit my head on the roof. I muttered a curse. My breast, bared and no longer shielded by Jack’s mouth, popped out from my blouse and I scrambled to cover my bare flesh with the hand not rubbing the top of my head. Fortunately, our heated make-out session had steamed up all the windows so there was no way anybody could possibly have seen anything embarrassing.
I looked down into Jack’s face as he looked up into mine. With another bleating honk, the delivery truck rumbled by, leaving the street once more clear. I licked my mouth and tasted Jack.
I felt him, too, between my legs and on my ass. On my nipple, still hard beneath my palm.
“I need to go,” I whispered.
He nodded. His hands caressed my rear again. His belt buckle had warmed against me and under it I felt the bulge of his erection. A squeak eeped from my throat at the memory of how he felt inside me, but though he leaned up to kiss me again, I didn’t let him.
“I really have to go, Jack.”
He paused, back arched and mouth parted for the kiss I had denied, then settled back against the seat. His hands left my butt and settled on my thighs. “Okay.”
I’d managed to get on his lap without injuring myself, but crawling back to my seat proved to be more awkward, especially as it was done in utter silence. I managed, finally, though my skirt had twisted and the seat was chilly on my bare thighs. I concentrated on fixing it. My shoe had twisted, too, and I reached down to slide the back of it up higher on my heel.
I used the excuse of fixing my clothes to not look at Jack. Not even when he leaned into the backseat to grab up his pizza and his clothes and he was so close to me I could smell myself on his skin. Not when he sat back in his seat again, pizza in his hands, and looked at me.
I kept my eyes on the windshield as I waited for him to say something. Anything, just so I didn’t have to. And Jack, bless him, did.
“Thanks for the ride.” His voice sounded too formal. He waited while I murmured a response, then got out of the car. The Camaro’s doors were heavy and the rain outside fierce, but I wasn’t convinced those were the reasons he slammed the door. He didn’t turn to wave goodbye, either, just disappeared inside the door to his building.
And what had I expected? We weren’t dating. I paid him money to take me places and, on occasion, to fuck me. Expecting anything else was just asking for things I kept telling myself I didn’t want.
Chapter 08
By the time I got back to the funeral home, the rain had cleared. I wasn’t late, but I didn’t have time to do more than use the bathroom, brush my hair and swipe my face with powder and lipstick before my three-thirty appointment was due. Shelly brought in a stack of messages for me, all the pink “While You Were Out” slips stacked neatly and printed in her fine, careful hand.
“Anything important?” I asked as I shrugged out of my damp blouse and into a dry one I’d kept on the back of the door. It didn’t quite match my skirt, but with the suit jacket overtop it would be fine. I took the messages but didn’t have time to do more than lay them on my desktop blotter.
“The new priest from St. Anne’s called. He said he wanted to meet with you about the cemetery regulations.”
I fluffed my hair and blotted my lips, then turned to look at her. “Huh?”
Shelly shrugged and rolled her eyes a bit in her own private expression of what she thought about the new priest at St. Anne’s. “Something about the cemetery committee had a meeting and they wanted to make some new regulations? Or something?”
“But I have nothing to do with that,” I protested, rolling my eyes, too. “When does he want to meet?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
I sighed and clicked my computer’s mouse to wake the monitor from sleep. I had my calendar up on the screen as always, and a quick glance showed me the morning was as yet unscheduled. “Can you call him and tell him that’s fine?”
“Sure. When the Heilmans get here, should I send them in?”
�
��Sure, Shelly, thanks.” I gave her a grateful glance. “I’m a little frazzled.”
“I see that.” She didn’t ask me why, just as she never asked me where I went on the days I left the office in my Camaro and didn’t come back for hours. “Want a cup of coffee? And I made pecan sandies.”
“Coffee, yes. Cookies, no.”
She laughed, ducking out of the office. “Okay, okay!”
“But I bet Jared would like some,” I called after her.
It was mean to tease like that, but her embarrassed giggle told me what I’d already guessed. Shelly was crushing on Jared. I couldn’t blame her—he was a cutie with his dark, shaggy hair and dry sense of humor. But Shelly had a boyfriend who clearly adored her and wanted to marry her.
It also wasn’t any of my business.
I also didn’t have any time to think about Shelly or Jared because my appointment finally showed. “Hi, Mrs. Heilman.”
Evy Heilman swept through the door with her son, Gordon, in tow. “Grace, honey, it’s so good to see you again.”
Mrs. Heilman had been in to discuss her funeral arrangements with me three times previously. Her son always attended and sat without speaking while his mother went over the lists of casket and vault choices.
“What do you have that’s new for me to look at?” She settled herself into a chair and waved a hand at Gordon. “Honey, go get me a coffee.”
Gordon, never married and always dutiful, nodded and did as she said.
Evy turned to me. “Gordon thinks I should stick with the pale pink lining and the white casket with the inlaid roses, but, honey, I just don’t know if I want to spend eternity feeling like I’m buried inside Barbie.”
I laughed. “I don’t blame you. I got a new catalog, if you want to take a look.”
Evy Heilman took as much joy from a new casket catalog as some women did from designer shoes. Her eyes alight, she held out her hand. “Ooh, yes!”
By the time Gordon returned with the coffee, his mother had already stabbed a few pages with her finger. She “oohed” and “aahed” over the new items and discussed the merits of each with me while he nibbled on a few of Shelly’s cookies and gave an opinion only when asked for it.
I didn’t mind that Evy Heilman came in every few months and used an hour or so of my time. She had an excellent point of view on dying and death. She wasn’t sick or even elderly, but she often pointed out to me that nobody knew when their time was up.
“And, honey,” she said as she scribbled down the number of the new casket and vault combination she’d decided she wanted, “there is no reason not to go out with a bang. Am I right, Gordon?”
Gordon shrugged. “If you say so, Mother.”
She laughed. “That’s my boy.”
With more hugs for me, Evy finished her selections and dragged her son out the door. I watched them go with a bit of a sigh. Evy’s visits always left me a little exhausted, even though I enjoyed them.
With only half an hour left in the official work day, I returned to my computer to try to get some accounting done, but Shelly knocked on my door frame. I looked up, expecting her to be offering cookies or coffee, or maybe to ask if I minded if she and Jared sneaked out early. She was giving me a funny look, and alarmed, I half stood. “What?”
“There’s someone here to see you,” Shelly said.
“Oh.” I sat again. “An appointment?”
She shook her head and bit her lower lip. “He doesn’t have an appointment.”
“That’s okay, I guess. Is it an emergency?”
Another shake. “I don’t think so. He said he wanted to see you, that’s all.”
I couldn’t figure her out. “Send him in, I guess.”
She nodded and disappeared. Two minutes later, another rap on my door had me lifting my head. My chair wasn’t the sort with wheels on it, but when I saw who was waiting for me I felt as if I’d been spun around anyway.
“Sam?”
He smiled and hovered in my doorway. “Hi.”
“What—” I stopped myself from saying more. Playing it cool. I lifted my chin a little and brushed back my hair from my shoulders, trying not to act as if I was desperately trying to remember if I needed to refresh my lipstick. “Hi. C’mon in.”
He did, as tall as I couldn’t forget him being. “I know I should’ve called first. But I figured you might not take the call.”
“Oh…um.” I chewed my lower lip for a moment as he slid into the chair in front of my desk. “Sure I would have.”
Sam laughed. “Uh-huh.”
I had to look away for a minute to stop the sense of spinning. When I looked back at him, he was still grinning. “Do you have a reason for being here?”
“I’m hungry.”
I sat back in my chair and ran my hands along the smooth, polished wood of its arms.
“And?”
“I figured, seeing as how it’s almost dinnertime, you might be hungry, too.”
“I don’t eat dinner at five, Sam.”
He leaned forward a little bit. “We can wait until five-thirty.”
I glanced at the clock, thinking fast, trying to decide what I wanted to say. “I don’t know.”
“What’s to know?” He settled back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. “You, me, food. No biggie. You’re acting like I got down on one knee and proposed.”
“Pffft.” I waved a hand. “No, I’m not.”
He pointed at me with one finger. “You are. But relax. I’m only here to eat.”
“I don’t have any food here,” I protested, but feebly.
“Grace?” Shelly knocked on the door again. “There’s a delivery for you.”
Sam leaped up so fast Shelly looked startled and backed away. “I’ll get it.”
I was already out of my chair and following. “What did you do?”
“I hope you like Chinese,” he said over his shoulder as he eased past Shelly and headed for the back door by her desk. “Hey, man. Thanks.”
I watched him take the bags of take-out food and pay the deliveryman, and I ignored the looks Shelly was trying to give me. Sam turned, food in hand. Shelly nudged me with her elbow.
“You can go,” I told her. “See you tomorrow.”
“Oh, but don’t you need—”
“G’wan, get out of here,” I told her with a joker’s smile on my mouth. “It’s late.”
It wasn’t late, it was just a few minutes past five, but Shelly nodded and gathered her things from her desk. Sam had buried his nose in one of the bags and was sniffing loudly and giving a series of contented sighs.
“See you tomorrow,” Shelly said with wide eyes.
Neither Sam nor I looked at her as we both said goodbye at the same time. She left. He stayed. I fidgeted from one foot to the other, flummoxed.
“Your place?” Sam pointed at the ceiling. “Table, chairs, plates?”
“Do you always invite yourself to dinner?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
Sam gave me an unabashedly unashamed grin. “Yep. But c’mon. You’re not going to turn me away, are you? Not with a container of General Tso’s chicken in my hands.”
My favorite. My stomach rumbled, loud enough for him to hear it. I put my hands over it.
“Damn you, Sam. Damn you.”
He wafted the smell of General Tso toward me. “It’s whispering your name, Grace. Can’t you hear it? Eaaaaat me.”
“So long as it’s the food and not you saying it.”
Sam stared, then put a hand over his heart. He frowned. “You wound me, Grace, with your unjust accusations of ulterior motives. I’m tempted to take my chopsticks and go home.”
I kept my arms crossed. “Uh-huh. Let’s see you.”
Sam looked around the empty hall, then back to me. “But then my food would get cold.
Besides, I have way too much. You don’t want me to get fat, do you?”
I looked him up and down. He didn’t look like he’d ever carried an extra pound.
“Somehow I doubt that’s a problem.”
He jiggled the bags in my direction again. “Okay, so maybe you can resist me, but how can you resist a free dinner?”
I turned, crooking my finger over my shoulder as I headed for the back stairs to my apartment. “All right. When you put it that way.”
He caught up to me at the stairs and we both paused. The crinkling plastic bags filled the space between us, but I still felt as if he’d pressed up against me. Sam looked down at me until I climbed the first three steps and could look him in the eye.
“Thanks for taking such good care of my dad,” he said quietly. “Consider this a thank-you, if you don’t want to think of it as anything else.”
How could I have resisted him after that?
In my apartment I took out mismatched plates and flat-ware and cartoon-character glasses from the burger joint’s promotion of some summer blockbuster. I set my small table while Sam juggled cartons and packets of sauce.
“This is…cozy,” he said from his seat in the chair closest to the kitchen’s far wall. He had about two inches of space behind him and the same on the two other sides.
I laughed as I slid into the table’s only other chair. It didn’t have much more room. “Most of my guests aren’t as big as you are.”
Sam paused in dripping duck sauce on his plate of rice and gave me a lifted brow. “Uh-huh.”
I mirrored his look. “Tall, Sam. I meant tall.”
“Sure.” He shot me a grin and stretched out his legs to the side. They reached all the way to the kitchen cabinets, and he tapped the wooden doors with the toe of his battered boots. “Big works, too.”
There wasn’t any way to deny that we’d had sex, and it seemed silly pretending. I stirred my portion of noodles with my chopsticks, thinking of what to say about it that wouldn’t sound like a come-on or an insult.
“Look,” I said at the same time Sam said, “Grace.”
We both stopped. Sam gave a nod, letting me go first. I wanted to look away, but I forced myself to look at him.
“About that night.”