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Before Elma knows what’s happening, I have her bags gathered and am practically pushing her to the door. Even though she seems a little shocked by the recent events, she goes willingly. Samuel follows, opening the front door and escorting the older woman to her car. When Elma is secured inside and pulling out of the lot, he returns to the entrance, where I’m standing.
Samuel shuts the door, places his hand around my elbow, and escorts me back to the front office. “I don’t even understand what just happened,” he says.
“Well, you said you thought she was worn out and possibly wasn’t feeling well, so I thought I’d help. Hopefully, she’ll take a break and come back next week feeling refreshed and energized.” I dig out the food from the basket and start placing it on the small table in the middle of the office.
He’s silent for what feels like minutes, so I look his way. What I wasn’t expecting was the smile on his lips. Shit, he’s so sexy when he smiles. “Thank you, Freedom. For everything.”
Shrugging, I reply, “It was nothing. Plus, it was lunchtime so I thought I’d bring you something to eat.”
He joins me at the table and shocks when he sees the spread. “Chicken? But you don’t eat meat.”
“I know. They had veggie kabobs, so I bought some of those for me. But I could eat my weight in mashed potatoes and gravy, so be ready to receive less than half of those,” I reply, scooping a little on his plate and a lot on mine.
“Take as much as you want, Freedom. I just can’t believe you bought chicken,” he replies, taking the seat across from me.
“Well, I know you like it, and even though I don’t eat it, doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed you’ve changed the way you’ve been eating on my behalf.”
Now it’s his turn to shrug and he grabs two pieces of chicken and piles it on top of the potatoes. “Believe it or not, I haven’t missed it much.”
“No?”
After taking his first bite, he wipes his mouth with the napkin and says, “Well, maybe a little. I do love fried chicken.” He gives me a sheepish grin before taking a second hearty bite.
He tells me a little bit about his morning as we eat lunch, as if sitting around and sharing a meal is the most natural thing in the world for us. When I’m finished eating, I start to gather the trash and put lids on the food containers, but Samuel stops me. “I can get the cleanup.”
His hand lingers on mine, a fresh wave of heat and longing sweeping through my body. “Thank you,” I whisper, just as the phone starts to ring.
Samuel smiles, and I feel it clear down to my fancy little panties.
“I guess, since I’m working here for the afternoon, I better get that,” I say, nodding toward the ringing phone.
“Yeah,” he says, his own voice sounding thick and raspy.
I head over to the desk and pull the phone from the cradle. “Hanson Funeral Home, how may I help you?”
And with a smile on my face, I get to work.
Working alongside Samuel.
