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I literally needed to stay in the morgue and not interact with people anymore. I had word diarrhea and couldn’t shut up.
“Good. Maybe you can explain it to me?” And I was still going.Shut up, Imogen.
“Take a breath, babe,” he chuckled. “I’m not here to quiz you or anything.”
“Then why are you here?” I blurted. “Fifteen years and we never spoke, but now suddenly you’re in my home.” I needed to know what Mace wanted.
Mace looked around. “I kind of hoped you lived upstairs or somewhere else on the property, babe. Please don’t tell me you sleep in the death five thousand over there.” Mac motioned to the open black casket in the viewing room. “Though I’m sure it’s nice and snug.”
I rolled my eyes and motioned to the stairs. “I live upstairs. This is my workspace, and upstairs is my home. Downstairs is also where I work.”Do not tell him downstairs is the morgue, Imogen.He could figure that out on his own.
“Very Wednesday Addams of you, babe.” He reached out and snagged a strand of my hair. “Though I will admit it’s definitely doing it for me.”
I gasped and stepped back out of his reach.
I was doing it for him? I never once thought that I had ever done it for Jonathon Walker, but the way he was looking at me said differently.
“Why don’t we head upstairs once I lock up?” I suggested.
Mace stepped to the side, and I moved to the front door.
“Don’t let me get in your way, babe,” he muttered.
I walked through the motions of locking up and finished by the stairs. “Let’s go,” I called.
Mace followed me up the stairs, and I shakily put my key in the lock.
“Damn, babe. You lock up even when you’re literally downstairs?” he asked.
I shrugged and pushed open the door. “I’ve had a few people over the years be curious and invade my personal space during funerals. I live above the funeral home out of convenience, but that also doesn’t mean every and anyone can come up.”
Sure, I didn’t pay rent per se, but that was because part of my pay was being able to live here.
I flipped on the light and stepped into my apartment.
“People just come into your apartment?” Mace glanced around and turned to me.
“There were two people that did, and then we won’t even talk about the couple I found making out on my couch.” I closed the door and kicked off my shoes. “They were super nice to me when I told them this was my apartment and not a place they could hook up.”
“Wait, babe. Are you telling me that you walked in on people going at it in the middle of a funeral?”
I nodded and moved into the kitchen. “You’d be surprised at the number of people I have seen sneak away at a funeral.” I opened the fridge and grabbed two bottles of water.
“Must be something about realizing life is short,” Mace muttered.
“You’re probably right, but I think they could control themselves until they are at least a mile away from the dead body.” I offered Mace a bottle of water and awkwardly stood in front of him.
“Can’t really argue with that, babe.” He twisted off the cap and took a drink. “Get all of your orders done for the day?”
I did not want to talk about ordering caskets with Mace. “Uh, yup. We should be good for a while unless we get a run on–.” I closed my eyes and remembered whom I was talking to. Dorothy, Merv, and Bruce didn’t think it was odd when I talked about caskets, death, and embalming fluids. “Business,” I whispered.
“The business of death, babe. If you had told me fifteen years ago that shy Imogen was a mortician, I wouldn’t have believed it.” He nodded to the couch. “Mind if I sit?”
“Of course.” I moved to the recliner, and Mace sprawled out on the couch. “And being a mortician surprised me, too.”
“I think I need to hear this story.”
I sighed and shrugged. “Not much of a story. I was a senior and had no idea what I was going to do after college. Career day rolled around, and there were so many people wandering around. I went to the booth that didn’t have anyone at it, which was a funeral home.”
