Reborn Yesterday - Tessa Bailey Page 0,37

“Ready?”

It might have been the beer, the odd situation—she was living among vampires?—or just The Jonas Effect, but she swore they glided into his bedroom, the way silk might move in water. Effortlessly and sensually, their fingers brushing, every look passed between them heightening a sense attachment, hunger, anticipation of the unknown, even though it might never come to pass.

Jonas’s hand slid on to her shoulder, guiding her to the edge of the bed and she went, enjoying the way he watched her nestling into his pile of sweaters and jackets, his clenched jaw making it clear he wanted to join her, yet refraining.

“Sleep as much as you can, Ginny,” he rasped. “We have a long night tomorrow.”

“Good night.” She yawned and watched his eyes soften. “I mean…day. Good day.”

The last thing she remembered before falling into a deep sleep was Jonas dragging the room’s single chair out into the hallway and taking up his post.

Then he shut the door without touching it at all.

CHAPTER NINE

Upon arriving at P. Lynn the following night, Ginny opened her digital calendar and her mouth dropped open when a reminder popped up.

Ginny’s birthday!

Tomorrow?

Apparently the looming date had been forgotten amongst the dramatic events of the last couple days, but tomorrow she would be twenty-five.

Jonas’s age, though, technically he was a great deal older.

Old enough to be her grandfather, really.

Best not to dwell on it too long.

After all, she had work to do. Their guest had arrived during the day and thankfully, Larissa had performed the intake paperwork and consulted with the family about their wishes. Now, while Ginny performed the chemical wash on Kristof, a hardware store owner with a mermaid tattoo in the center of his chest, Jonas sat nearby in the morgue reading a tattered copy of The Count of Monte Cristo.

Was he reading, though?

Every time she looked over, he seemed to be watching her above the black and beige book jacket. There hadn’t been many page-turning sounds, either. Her cheeks warmed when she caught him again, before his eyes zipped back to the text. The entire back half of her body was alive right now, tingling and sparking under his regard. Her focus was in ninety places at once, when it needed to be on Kristof.

Focus.

Morticians were often viewed as cold, clinical. Creepy. But there was an artfulness to the practice most people didn’t know about. Or didn’t want to know about, rather. She’d been taught by her father to make friends with the deceased. To try and understand who they’d been and where they’d come from. Now that she’d performed the chemical rinse and broken the rigor mortis through a careful massaging of the body, it was time to set her guest’s features, since the casket would be open at his wake.

Humming to herself, Ginny leaned over and consulted the family-provided picture sitting on her instrument table. In it, Kristof had one arm propped on the bow of a boat, his other hand stuffed into a rain slicker. A deluge fell around him unacknowledged. Kristof had been a stoic man, it seemed. There weren’t many smile or laugh lines around his face and eyes, so it wouldn’t do to form his lips into a subtle yet peaceful smile, as she often did. No, they would be sending off a hard-nosed fisherman and furthermore, that would be what Kristof would want those left behind to see. The real him.

Ginny was only beginning to lose herself in the setting of his features when Larissa appeared in the doorway of the morgue, holding a martini glass. “Oh, you’re here. Good. I wasn’t sure if I’d be running this place alone now.”

As inconspicuously as possible, Ginny glanced over her shoulder to see Jonas was nowhere in sight. She hadn’t even heard him move. Turning back to Larissa with genuine contriteness, Ginny stripped off her gloves and laid them down beside Kristof’s head. “I’m sorry about last night. I hope there wasn’t much extra work.”

“No. No, I left it all for you.” She pressed a thumb to the center of her forehead. “I can just about manage my own shifts without taking on yours, too. Who is this friend you were with since last night?”

“Someone from my dress making club,” Ginny said, too quickly and too unconvincingly. Just don’t add any unnecessary information. It’s a classic tell when someone is lying. “She’s a brunette. Bangs. She has bangs…and she loves an A-line.”

Larissa sipped her martini. “Hmm.”

Ginny traced a circle on the metal table with her