With This Heart By R. S. Grey
For each and every Abby Mae in the world.
CHAPTER ONE
On a rather insignificant Saturday afternoon, I stood in a funeral home searching through rows of urns as if I was browsing down the aisles of a super market. There were quite a few options to choose from. That fact surprised me. I thought there was a standard issue size and color, but no. They’d become a product of our economy long ago. Not to mention the guilt. Why would you want your loved one stuffed into a black, ceramic eyesore, when instead you could opt for a more personalized touch? They had it all: camo-print in the shape of a deer head, bedazzled hearts, and the ever-patriotic American flag emblazoned beneath a bald eagle.
Anyway, that’s where I was standing, ogling all of the ridiculous choices, when he walked in.
The little bell on the door chimed merrily, which I thought was a strange touch for a funeral home, but I didn’t turn around. Funeral homes are depressing and I had one mission: to pick out an urn and get out as quickly as possible. The echo of footsteps sounded behind me until a figure came to stand in my peripheral vision.
I froze.
Out of every aisle, this person needed to browse directly next to me? Wasn’t this sort of a personal process? Does anyone have any decency anymore?
I didn’t bother moving my gaze from the urns lined out before me, but he didn’t let that deter him.
“ I would definitely pick that one. Nothing says ‘these are the remains of my loved one’ quite like red and white polka dots,” offered a gravelly voice.
It was that voice that convinced me to lose focus.
My gaze shifted to the left just enough to make out a guy with his hands tucked into his jean pockets and a navy baseball cap sitting on top of unruly brown hair.
His wry smile hinted at the fact that he was teasing me. In a funeral home.
I narrowed my eyes, trying to assess his motives, but I came up empty.
“ I’ll be sure to count your vote,” I muttered flatly, and then turned to walk down another aisle. He didn’t follow me right away, and I thought perhaps my curt response had offended him.
I was dragging my finger pad on the ledge of a shelf, letting it pick up dust, when an employee rounded the front desk. I hadn’t noticed him before, but now he was impossible to miss. The grizzly looking man was a blob of black. He was trying in vain to fit into a cheap suit that might have fit him about ten years ago, perhaps when he could still see what his toes looked like.
“ Hello. Welcome to Al’s Funeral Parlor. Can I help you find anything today during your time of need?”
The spiel was obviously rehearsed, yet I still felt a pang of disappointment that his voice was bored and expressionless. Obviously the last thing he wanted to do was help me purchase an urn.
I didn’t get the chance to answer.
“ Yes. Al, is it?” said Gravelly Voice from behind me. I hadn’t realized he’d followed me down the new aisle.
The employee shifted his thick eyebrows into a furrow. “No. I’m his grandson, Fred.”
I didn’t turn around, but I could feel the stranger stepping closer behind me. “Fred. What a great name. I do believe this young lady needs help. She looks sort of lost.”
My head whipped around and I’m sure I was staring daggers at him. He said ‘young lady’ as if he wasn’t a year or two older than me.
“ What the hell. I’m not lost,” I argued with a sharp stare.
His goofy smile never faltered. Who the hell was this guy?
My eyes swept down to his soft black t-shirt that read: “don’t do school, eat your drugs, stay in vegetables”. Then I glanced back up at his shadowed eyes. I could barely make out the color with his hat covering them, but everything else was there: the chiseled cheek bones, the straight nose, the sensual lips, the long lashes, and the strong eyebrows. If I wasn’t standing in a funeral home, and if he wasn’t borderline harassing me, I might have wondered if he traded his soul to look the way he did.
“ Ma’am?” Fred asked, reminding me of the task at hand.
“ Yeah, actually I’m looking for a simple black urn. Do you have any of those?” I gestured to encompass the parlor’s entire stock. “It looks like I can get a black one if I also want it to have glitter, but that’s about it…”
Fred did a poor job of hiding his eye roll before shifting his hefty weight and turning toward the door to the side of the front desk. “I’ll check in the back.” He grumbled like I was asking for the moon.
My eyes followed the man for a moment, and then I glanced up toward a sign hanging over the desk that read: “Our prices are six feet under the competition”.
Tasteful.
“ Well then,” Gravelly Voice guy offered, rocking back on his heels and narrowing his eyes on me.
“ I’m sorry, are you here to pick out an urn or…?” I asked, looking around for clues to his strange, albeit interesting, behavior.
“ No,” he answered simply.
“ No?”
He shrugged his shoulders innocently. “I like coming in and checking out the latest models. Never know when you’ll need one.”
I gaped. “Are you serious?”
Cue a sexy smile. Damn. “No. I was getting a slurpee across the street and I saw you walk in, so I followed you on a whim.”