Reborn Yesterday - Tessa Bailey Page 0,3
full of chemicals?”
“Bozos,” he mouthed with a half smile. “My clothes, Ginny. If you please.”
“I must talk to my stepmother about our security system. They probably snuck you in during Survivor—she doesn’t blink while it’s on.” Still baffled over the fact that a live body had been smuggled into the funeral home without being seen, Ginny nonetheless decided there wasn’t much she could do about it now. He had to be freezing on the cold metal table, not to mention traumatized. She couldn’t very well make him sit there while she shook her fist over the actions of his reckless friends. “Clothes. You need clothes,” she said, centering herself. “Coming right up, Dreamboat.”
“What was that?”
Floor, please open up and eat me alive. Sincerely, Ginny. “Nothing. Let me see if they left you anything.” She inched toward the table, her intention to open the metal storage drawer beneath where her stepmother normally placed the burial clothing. She had no reason to believe his friends would follow procedure, but she was operating out of habit. The closer she drew to Jonas, the more his fist curled in the sheet. Was it possible she was now repelling the half-dead, as well as the living?
Fabulous.
Trying not to stare at the gorgeous male specimen up close, she stooped down with purpose and slid open the drawer, slightly surprised to find a balled up pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Across the front of the shirt, the words Birthday Boy had been written in Sharpie.
Ginny held it up for him to inspect.
He sighed. “Morons.”
She rose and handed him the clothes. “Happy birthday. How old?”
Jonas paused in the act of pulling the shirt over his head. “Twenty-five.”
“Oh!” Fidget, fidget. She was watching him get dressed. “My birthday is coming up, too. We’ll be the same age soon.”
He went blank. “Right.”
Once his shirt was in place—and was trying her hardest not to notice how his biceps barely fit the armholes—she noticed the tag was sticking out. Without thinking, she reached out and tucked it inside the white cotton, her knuckle grazing his skin. Jonas made a rough sound and she snatched her hand back with a sucked in breath. “Jonas, you’re still pretty cold. Are you sure I shouldn’t call a paramedic?”
“This is my normal temperature, Ginny,” he rasped, the sheet sounding as though it was tearing within his grip. “You, however, are very warm.” His nostrils flared. “I’m not sure what it is about you, but there’s a…difference.”
“Between us?”
“Between you and everyone else.” He moved suddenly and quickly, so fast that she barely registered him throwing his legs over the opposite side of the table and a flash of firm buttocks, before he’d donned the jeans. “I can’t be here.”
It was almost alarming how panicked she grew at his imminent departure. Her throat closed to the size of a straw and an engine false started in her belly, chugging and failing, again and again. “Can I drive you somewhere? I’d have to use the hearse, but—”
“You should not be offering me a ride, Ginny. I’m a stranger.” He turned to face her over the metal table, looking deeply perturbed. “Do you often give rides to men you don’t have the slightest knowledge about?”
“Yes, but they’re usually dead. It’s kind of a given that they’ll accept.”
Bemusement stole his irritation. “Who are you?”
“You could find out,” she whispered, fearing she’d be humiliated about it tomorrow, but unable to stop herself. “You could stay and find out.”
Something akin to longing swept his features. “No, I…can’t.”
What was the cause of these nerves popping in her fingertips? If she didn’t find a way to prolong this association, it would be over before it started and something about that seemed horribly wrong. “We don’t have to stay here,” she said. “I was just thinking of taking a walk, actually.” Before he could respond, Ginny tugged her apron off over her head, tossed it on the closest counter and sped through the embalming room door. “Coming?”
“A walk,” he repeated, somehow already right on her heels. “In the middle of the night?”
“It’s the best time to go. Everything is so quiet.”
“How have you lived this long?” A beat passed. “Please, I can’t do this.”
“It’s okay.” Her smile was innocent. “I can go by myself.”
With a growl, Jonas reached Ginny’s side and she hid a relieved smile.
“One hour,” he muttered. “I get one hour.”
CHAPTER TWO
Luna Park was closed for the night, but some of the rides still twinkled where they lined the Coney Island boardwalk. With