scene. She’d barely shed the image of local milkmaid; how would she get out of looking like the town’s kooky gravedigger? She glanced down at the cat in the box. I’m not crazy, she wanted to say. My grandpa and I just like to give them a proper burial.
During the short drive there, she’d sensed a bit of playfulness in him. Flirtation, even. She’d wanted to ask where he was from and what he did. But now…now she just wanted to escape.
“Thank you,” she blurted, “for the ride. I can take it from here.” She glanced over in time to see his expression fall flat. Already, his hand was at his seatbelt. His thumb poised over the lever.
“I’d like to help you bury it, if that’s okay.”
Justine held his gaze, searching for a smirk or an air of judgment, and found none. Instead, she detected kindness. And if she were honest, intrigue. That was okay. She was intrigued by him too. A man who likely had places to be and people to see, taking time out of his day to help her out in a rough time.
“Okay,” she said with a nod. “Thanks.”
The situation was as odd as it was unlikely, but as Burke exited the car, came around to her side, and took the box from her lap, Justine couldn’t deny the sense of kinship she felt. Like the others passing through town, he’d be gone as quickly as he came, but it’d been a very long time since she’d felt sparks of any sort.
It felt nice. Especially after the incident at the grocery store. Seeing Brittany with her promise ring from Trevor while Justine defended a lie about a fiancé that didn’t exist—it had her wanting to feel wanted too. Desperately.
Plus, she’d made it a habit to enjoy the moments life brought her way. To give herself to them completely. Why not do the same with a moment like this?
Chapter 5
Burke shoveled the final heap of dirt over the shallow grave. He took a step back then, shovel in hand, and watched as Justine moved onto her knees beside the fresh mound.
She’d collected a small, wooden cross about a foot and a half tall from a pile against the pines. She centered it at the head of the grave, tucked the speared tip into the soil, and ran her fingertips over the fresh dirt.
Burke glanced down at his suit pants. Not only were they marked with a bloodstain on his shin, a ring of dirt now clung to the bottom hems. That same dirt coated his patent leather shoes. And though he hadn’t stooped to actually touch the soil, his hands were coated in a dusty layer as well.
“I’m sorry your life ended early,” she said softly, reverently. “You were noticed. You were seen. You matter.”
The tenderness in her words lit a dart of heat in his chest. They were interesting things to say to a cat. Selective, too. It touched on a sore spot Burke had struggled with throughout his life—the desire to be seen, noticed, by a father who wasn’t there. Most of his accomplishments were driven by that very thing.
Burke sank the shovel’s spear into the dirt so it would stand on its own, then hunched beside her, looking at the grave in quiet contemplation. Had she struggled in a similar way? He sensed that she had. Why else would she think to say that type of thing?
“What was her name? The cat’s,” he clarified. “And how long did you have her?”
Justine had been tucking a curly lock of hair behind one ear, but at his questions, she stopped short and shot him a look. “What?”
A breeze picked up, tossing the unruly lock back where it brushed against her cheek once more.
Without another thought, Burke reached out, pinned the piece in a light grasp between his fingers, and tucked it behind her ear. That strawberry scent floated through the air as his fingertips grazed a warm, silky spot behind her earlobe.
“There you go.” It came out in a whisper. Dang, she was pretty. Naturally so. Her eyes were a sight all their own. Green with flecks of gold, making them more hazel, he guessed. They reminded him of the New York Bay in late spring, when the sun hit the water.
“Thanks.”
“Well, what do we have here?” boomed a voice from behind.
Burke dropped his hand and shot to his feet. “Nothing. I mean…” He dusted off his suit while glancing at the man who’d snuck up