I knew she’d be feral about that.
“I’m sorry. Happy to make it up to you, though…” I raised an eyebrow, glancing down at her legs.
“Tempting as that sounds, I’ll pass.”
I poked my lip out.
“Fine. But, if I find out that the Girthmaster finds its way back where it was a few hours ago…your mom will be the last thing you have to worry about.” I honestly thought that would get her back to the sass I’m starting to feel empty without, but…whatever happened must be a really big deal. She’s not giving me anything. I stepped over and sat next to her. “Seven, look…I might have hijacked your life, but never in any of this have I wanted you to be unhappy. I do love it when you’re pissed, that’ll probly always get me off, but…if you tell me to go, and only call you when I’m ready for this job…I’ll do it.”
“It’s not that either,” she breathed, staring at the floor. “You irritate the fuck outta me, but…I’m starting to like having you around. Don’t let that get to your already inflated head.”
“No promises there, love.”
“I’m not used to anybody thinking I’m a ten. I don’t think I’d be used to anybody even believing I’m a highthree, Malek. My family knows my track record with men and my failure in the dating pool. I’m not looking for a white knight, and I don’t wantthem expecting one. I generally like existing down there in the basement with nobody to worry about but myself. It’s just…safer that way. Foreveryone.”
It’s pretty obvious to me now. She’s been hurt. And it makes me wanna gut teddy bears. And it’s not the kind of hurt like what I’ve been through, either. I actually think this is worse. I love the aspect of being able to cause insane amounts of physical pain and torment to people that deserve it, but I’ve never been the kind of lad that blows a load, seeing someone suffer in silence when they don’t. And she doesn’t deserve this shit. She deserves to be worshiped the way I got down on my knees for her this morning. She deserves that every day.
“Okay,” I whispered, nodding. “But I meant what I said about Mr. Floppy.”
“Christ…go eat.”
I nudged her with a shoulder and stood, walking to the door and tipping my head over my shoulder to look at her. “Youarea ten, Seven Grey. No matter what fool can’t see it.”
I left her with that, vowing to figure out the name of every prick that wined and dined her in the past few years.
CHAPTER 15
The Mortician
It’s almost weird, having people to actually hang out with that listen to what comes out of your mouth and laugh, instead of run. To make the darkness a little more fun to be in. To spend time with someone who isn’t constantly checking their watch. Add that to the soft side of Malek that made an appearance last night, and one could almost say I was daring a toe over the line of my comfort zone.
I’ve had a lot of time to think about all of that this morning, while I’m prepping suites and moving caskets. There aren’t any deliveries today. Not for my line of work, anyway. Greg’s also been on better behavior after last night, which I’m positive I have Maggie to thank for however far her foot went up his ass. Everybody was asleep when I left this morning, and I’m guessing Bridget isn’t easy to bunk with. Malek was pretty peaceful looking in the coffin. Which is more than I can say for Mrs. Porter right now. This casket is all kinds of wrong for her. Don’t judge. It really is like that with us. For the Grey’s, a funeral is just as important as the way you carry yourself, so if the casket isn’t the right choice, it’s like wearing dirty sneakers with a tuxedo.
I finally dressed her this morning and touched up her hair and makeup. She looks really beautiful, but this monstrosity of a rental is sucking the ambiance out of this whole ordeal. Her family wasn’t happy, as I expected, but I’m almost afraid of what’s gonna happen when they walk through that door. And we only have a few hours before they get here.
I stood in the kitchen, mindlessly chewing a bite of a half-ass sandwich and looking out the window at the roses when Dad came in.
“Ah…soyou’rethe one who used up the last of the turkey.”
I smiled and turned around, leaning against the sink. “It was Greg.” Said turkey was half hanging out of my folded slice of bread and Dad nodded.
“He never learns, does he?”
“Never.”
He started bagging up some trash and sighed. “You’re stressing about dinner last night?” I wasn’t, but now that he’s bringing it up…ugh.
“Actually no. I’m stressing about the Porter viewing this afternoon. That casket isn’t gonna work, Dad.” He tied the drawstrings and set the bag against the wall.
“Ah. About that. I agree with you, honestly. The handles are done, but they don’t have anybody available for delivery until tomorrow. So, it looks like either way, she’ll have to stay in the oak one, or that copper finish casket we’ve got in storage.”
“Ew, Dad…hell no.”
He tightened his mouth. “I know.” I shoved the rest of my sandwich into my mouth and growled, turning myself back around to angrily stare at Desiree’s cafe. “Don’t stress. Not the worst thing that’s happened around here, I guess.” He walked out and my phone started buzzing in my back pocket.
“Not now. Havin’ a moment.”
“So am I. I made the mistake of takin’ Bridget to a grocery.”
