Yum. Gimme some.
Although nothing’s been made official yet, it’s safe to say the two of us are an unlabeled item. I believe what we’re doing in fancier circles would be referred to as courting. I’m fairly certain my parents have drawn the same conclusion as a result of our frequent lunch dates.
As long as Prissy is none the wiser, I could care less who knows. I’m not quite ready to cross that bridge with her yet.
“Hey, yourself.” His unexpected drop-in brings a much-needed smile to my face and a warm fuzzy sensation spreading throughout my body. “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise?” I set my pen down, offering him my undivided attention.
“Is it?” He steps inside, shutting the door behind himself. “Come gimme some suga, suga.”
“You’re so corny.” Giggling, I hop up from my chair and round my desk at warp speed. The man makes me feel giddy, like a young girl completely addicted to the rush of endorphins one gets while falling for the boy of her dreams.
And that’s exactly what he’s turning out to be. Only I’m not a girl, and he’s certainly no boy. And the possible repercussions that hang on the outcome of this particular bout of puppy love are enormous.
“Replace that C in corny with an H and you would be correct.” He pulls me close, pressing his pelvis into my waist to demonstrate before molding his lips to mine. His kiss is warm and tender and over far sooner than I’d like. The groan that slips out as he pulls away relays as much.
“There are two sobbing women in the lobby.” With a frustrated laugh, he presses a final smooch to the tip of my nose. “They’re here to make Mr. Boudreaux’s arrangements.”
“Renovating the chapel, collecting dead bodies, and now acting as my personal secretary…” I run my hands over his shoulders and along his arms while staring into his hungry eyes. “Is there anything you don’t do, Mr. Landry?”
“Yes.” His answer is immediate and leaves my cheeks burning on account of the ravenous smolder that accompanies it.
“Shameless,” I hiss, swatting him on the ass before slinking away and slipping into the chair behind my desk. “You may see them in…and feel free to make arrangements for my lunch break.” I touch a finger to my chin, smiling coyly. “Why don’t you invite that hot handyman working in the chapel?”
“Now who’s shameless?” he teases, twisting the doorknob. “Pick ya up at noon.”
“Don’t be late!”
As soon as he’s gone, I have the urge to call him back—not that I can act on it, seeing how I have less than a minute to switch myself back into work mode.
“Ms. Daigle?”
“In here,” I call out to the feminine shadow hovering just outside my door.
A woman who can’t be much older than I am peeks her head into my office. She’s a little mousy, with layered, shoulder-length hair and the same red-rimmed eyes I encounter on a regular basis. “Come on in,” I say, waving her inside. “Please, have a seat.”
An older version of her slips in right after.
“Both of you,” I add, directing them to the two chairs across from mine.
“I’m Maria,” the younger of the two offers, “and this is my mom, Vicky.”
The grieving widow lifts one finger in greeting while blowing snot into a hanky.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” I say, offering them a box of tissue. “I’m very sorry it had to be under such awful circumstances.”
“Thank you,” Maria says, cringing when her mother sets her bag down and it barks.
“Mom,” she grits, nearly expiring from mortification.
“It’s fine,” I assure her. I rise from my seat, peering over the top of my desk to seem more welcoming. “Who do we have here?” I ask when not one, but two little Yorkshire terriers climb up onto her lap.
“Lucy and Ricky,” Mrs. Boudreaux says. “Harold was so fond of his puppies.” She pauses to dab at her face. “He took them everywhere.”
“That’s lovely.”
“I couldn’t leave them behind.”
“Of course not,” I say. “They are more than welcome.”
That comment earns me my first wobbly smile from the woman.
It’s not uncommon for the bereaved to latch onto something that makes them feel closer to a lost loved one. They’ll wear their clothes or drive their cars. Serve all of their favorite foods during the reception. We once had a father insist to having his son’s dirt bike beside the casket. This is the first time we’ve had a client bring along a pet, or two rather, to schedule