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Ten minutes later, I slipped on my standby pair of short heels and made my way to the kitchen to prepare a quick breakfast. I decided on a bowl of Reese’s Puffs and doused the crunchy cereal with a healthy splash of milk. I mindlessly scrolled the internet while I ate and started the coffee maker.
Once I finished my cereal, I poured myself a cup of coffee to go, the rich aroma providing a much-needed boost of energy. I grabbed my purse and keys and stepped outside onto the porch, but my foot caught on something solid, which caused me to stumble forward with a yelp of surprise. I managed to catch myself before I tipped over into the bushes and pushed my hair out of my face. “What in the hell?” I muttered.
I looked down, and my heart sank at the sight of a dead squirrel lying motionless on the ground. “Oh no, poor fella,” I murmured, a pang of sympathy tugged at my heart. I dealt with death all the time at work, but dead animals just hit a different part of my heart. I set my coffee down and hurried to the garage to get a shovel. I carefully scooped it up with the shovel and looked down at him. “Rest in peace, little dude,” I whispered before I yeeted him into the bushes.
I set the shovel next to the bottom step of the porch and grabbed my coffee. I had already been late to work, and now it was going to be even worse.
“Sorry, Rocco, there was a dead squirrel on my porch, and I needed to dispose of the body,” I muttered as I got into my car.
I shook my head and put my coffee in the cupholder. Yeah, I was just going to keep that detail of my morning to myself.
Chapter Fifteen
Rocco
Today was a better day.
Mrs. Ked’s funeral was still somber, but an unexpected air of warmth and joy surrounded the event. It was one of those rare funerals where sadness mingled with joy as her family celebrated the life of a woman who had clearly been loved by all who knew her.
Dorothy and I stood together toward the back of the crowd; I couldn’t help but notice how close she was and remember how her warm body felt pressed against mine this morning.
“I was wrong,” Dorothy muttered, her voice broke through my thoughts.
I glanced down at her, my curiosity piqued. “About?” I prompted.
She smiled, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “From the way she came in, I thought for sure Mrs. Ked was a grumpy old woman. She did not look happy at all. She had some major RBF.”
“RBF?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow.
Dorothy leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Resting bitch face,” she explained with a mischievous grin.
A chuckle rumbled from my chest. “Ah, I see,” I replied, a smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “Now I know what you’re talking about.” I had met many RBFs.
Dorothy’s eyes danced with amusement as she glanced around the room. “Yeah, I thought for sure we’d have people at her coffin saying thank goodness or something,” she remarked, her tone tinged with relief. “Now, these are the kinds of funerals that make up for the sad ones,” she added wistfully. “We were due for a good one,” she mused.
I nodded in agreement, my gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. “Yeah, you’re not wrong, babe,” I murmured, the endearment slipping out before I could stop it. “Hopefully, this is the last one due to the Q word.”
Her reaction was subtle, but I caught the flicker of surprise in her eyes at the term of endearment. Was it unprofessional to call her babe? Probably. But in that moment, it felt right. Natural, even. And the more time I spent with Dorothy, the more I found myself noticing things like that. Everything with her just felt right.
She looked beautiful today, as always. Her blonde hair was swept up into an elegant bun, and her light makeup enhanced her beautiful face. And her body... Well, let’s just say Dorothy had curves in all the right places. From the moment she walked through the door, my hands itched to pull her into my arms, to run my fingers along every curve and commit them to memory.
Of course, I couldn’t act on those impulses. Professionalism and my being her boss dictated otherwise. But that didn’t stop me from thinking about it. About her.
Dorothy’s voice pulled me back to the present moment. “How many salted caramel bars do you think are left?” she asked, her tone casual.
I blinked, momentarily thrown off by the sudden change in topic. “Uh, what?” I replied. What on earth was she talking about?
Dorothy’s expression was one of mock disbelief as she widened her eyes at me. “The salted caramel bars the church ladies made,” she clarified. “How many do you think are left? I didn’t get to snag one before people started arriving. You know how it is, Ro. Little ham sandwiches and salted caramel bars just hit differently after a long day.”
Her words brought a smile to my lips. Ro? I hadn’t been called that before, but I liked it coming from her lips. “I’m not sure,” I admitted with a chuckle. “But knowing those church ladies, they probably made enough to feed an army.” Back in Chicago, we didn’t have the church ladies bringing in meals for every funeral. Most of them were catered from outside restaurants, and most of the time, the food wasn’t that good.
Dorothy laughed, the sound light and infectious. “Well, let’s hope they made plenty,” she replied, looping her arm through mine. “Those salted caramel bars will rock your world.”
That wasn’t the only thing I wanted to rock my world, but it was a good place to start.
Dorothy
I savored the last bite of the salted caramel bar, letting an audible moan slip from my lips. My eyes darted across the table at Rocco, and I couldn’t help but smirk at his expression.
