Page 18 of Mourner for Hire

FOURTEEN

VADA

My grilled tuna burger arrives within minutes of ordering, and I waste no time digging into it, ignoring the fact that I’m just sentences away from finishing a chapter on my e-reader.

I’m starving. I haven’t eaten much since the funeral—barely anything last night, nothing this morning.

Apparently, being tormented by the spirit realm and preparing to be ostracized by a town I was born in and visited once act as strong appetite suppressants.

It’s messy but perfect—seared tuna, crisp red cabbage, dill pickles, and a sweet-spicy aioli I want to bathe in. It’s beyond delicious.

“Wow! You look hungry!” the man sitting in the booth next to me comments.

My jaw freezes, and then I start chewing in slow motion. I glance behind me to make sure he doesn’t have any friends waltzing in behind me.

No one.

I chew twice more and then swallow.

“Yep,” I say, then take another bite, ignoring his commentary any further.

He slides into my booth, shaking his head. His hair is dirty blond and shaggy and does that swoopy thing I used to love when I was in middle school. It oddly still fits his face and doesn’t seem to date him but rather enhance him—sharp jaw, pebbled stubble. Light blue eyes. Very tall.

He’s a real-life Ken doll slipping into the booth across from me without permission.

“I haven’t seen you around,” he remarks, leaning on his elbows.

I clear my throat and wipe my lips with a paper napkin. “Well, that’s because I haven’t been around. I’m just here to work. and then I’ll be gone again.”

I offer a quick, placid smile that in no way deters this wax museum statue of a man from warming up in my presence.

“Ahh, I see. Contractor?”

My brow furrows as I remember how Dominic asked me the same thing when I was stuck in his bar.

“Um, no,” I answer, taking a drink of my iced tea, though maybe it is partially true now. I am contracted to renovate the cottage.

He nods, his mouth sliding into a slow, tantalizing smile. “So that means you really are Dominic’s arch-nemesis.”

I choke on the tea, coughing and sputtering until my cheeks flame. When my throat finally settles, “That seems a bit dramatic, if not adolescent,” I manage through coughs.

“Well, Dunner is quite dramatic.” He taps his thumb on the table.

I take another sip and slowly gather my next thoughts. I lick my lips and decide to be very polite. Lord knows this town is small enough, and chances are this man, this GI Joe action figure in a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts and a pretty smile, is Dominic’s best friend.

“He just lost his mom. He’s allowed to be dramatic.”

A sad expression shifts over his face before he smiles. He thinks for a beat and then leans back.

“You know what? You’re right. Dominic is allowed to be dramatic.” He leans over the table. “But grief is never a valid reason to treat an innocent bystander with such disrespect.”

I tilt my chin up and swallow. I can’t read him.

It feels like a trap, but the palm trees on his button-up and the perfect smile on his face are confusing my thoughts.

He’s universally attractive, approachable in a boy-next-door way, and even I feel the warm flutters in my belly when his blue eyes twinkle.

And yes, while he is adorable in his Hawaiian shirt with his perfect hair and stunning smile, I’m also convinced he’s the type of guy who uses big words in the wrong context.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Vada Daughtry. What’s yours?”

“Connor.”

“Connor what?”

He squints at me. “Do we need to be on a two-name basis?”

“If you want to be on a first-name basis, then yes.”

“Frankie O’Connor.”

I let out a humorless chuckle. “Oh, so this whole town just makes up names off their last name so they can have these weird aliases for the transient lady from Portland who is just trying to do her job in this little town that is forever etched in my life because I was born here but want nothing to do with because it actually harbors the worst memories for me.” I push my plate forward, and it inadvertently clanks on my glass of iced tea.

I catch the eyes of my server. “Check, please.”

Connor… or Frankie… or whoever the hell this guy is, reaches across the table and touches my arm. “I didn’t know you were from here.”

“I’m not. I was just born here,” I say, my voice short.

“Still,” he reasons, his voice soft enough to truly catch my attention. “Look, Vada, I didn’t mean to make you feel discontent, but I do know you’re in a fascinating paradox with Dominic, and I think you being from here really puts things into perspective. ”

Sigh. The desire to come off as an intellectual must be humiliating.

“What? Having my bloodline run from a town like this gives me a pass? Does that mean you’re going to be nice to me and not sit across the table from me like an intimidating Ken doll while I try to enjoy just one fucking meal?

” I scratch my neck and exhale as the server brings me my check.

I manage a smile for her, then turn to stone when I look at Ken—I mean, Frankie.

I mean, Connor. I mean… “What the hell am I supposed to call you?”

He throws his head back and laughs. “Call me Connor. I’m actually Frankie Jr. so my dad is Frankie—never went by Frank even though he’s retired and fifty-nine?—”

“That would be fitting,” I reason.

“Exactly. But alas, I became Connor in kindergarten. They threw it on a name tag, and it stuck until now.”

I toss back my head and laugh. “Not even Little Frankie.”

“Not even,” he responds. “And let that be a lesson to you and anyone else who has kids: whatever you nickname your kid when they’re five will be their name.

So much so that beautiful young women, who may have been minorly hurt in the past, causing them to be suspicious of everyone they’ve ever known, may ask for their full name and social security number. ”

“I didn’t ask for that,” I say as the server returns with my check, and I sign the tip and slide it back into the leather case.

“You would, though.”

“Of course.” I smirk.

“I like that about you.”

“And I like—” The words get trapped on my tongue as Dominic approaches us. I inhale sharply through my teeth. “Fuck. I need to go,” I whisper, to which Connor makes a dramatic spin around. I reach for him, spilling the remnant of my iced tea across the table and shouting, “What are you doing?!”

He quirks his head back in my direction. “Sorry.”

“Good to see you, Vada,” Dominic says. His tone is dripping in syrupy sweetness, but the backbone of his words is laced with a threat. He has his arms outstretched. “Bring it in. I’m a hugger.”

“I’m a biter,” I spit back, dragging my gaze along the length of his arms.

Connor’s laugh is immediately swallowed and spit out when Dominic says, “I remember.”

Dominic’s lips twist in a check-mated smile.

“Ah, the reformed nerd,” Connor heckles, and my gaze darts between them. Dunner doesn’t come off as nerdy in any way.

“I wish…” I breathe.

“No, seriously, this kid was a wiz in school. Traded it all in for combat boots so he could just get out of this little town. But it turns out he missed us.” Connor grins wide.

This seems to be common knowledge with a layered history I’ll never be privy to.

I wince. Dominic glares at Connor then turns to me.

“The burgers are delicious here, aren’t they?” Dominic asks, not losing an ounce of artificial sweetness.

I lick my lips and press them together in agreement.

“You have a little something right there?”

His index finger touches his right cheek, and my hand flies to my left cheek.

There’s nothing like having a full-blown conversation with someone I just met covered in condiments.

I grab a napkin to clean my face of ketchup and wipe it to no avail as he says, “Almost got it. Just… Yeah, right there. A little bit more on the other side.”

My movement slows until I stop completely and simply stare up at him, crumbling the napkin and wishing it was his giggleberries. “What do you want, Dunner?”

“You can’t call me that.”

“Dominic.” I make no attempt to sound like a mature adult when I say one of his names.

“I see you met my friend Connor.” He raises his eyebrows in the air then glances at Connor. “How are the herpes?”

“Fuck off, Dunner,” Connor mutters, seemingly unbothered.

I don’t break my gaze from Dominic.

“Yes, Frankie is lovely. He was just telling me what it was like growing up with you, Dominic,” I lie.

Connor shoots me a dark glare, and I smile out of the corner of my mouth. He clears his throat.

“Tell me, does Connor get to call you Dunner or Dominic? Just want to see if he falls low on the totem pole and has to call you by your government name like me.”

He lets out a low, condescending chuckle. “Oh, sweetheart, I’d rather you not call me anything.”

I stare at him a beat before humming and saying, “Hmm, your mom told me you’re Dom?—”

“Don’t.” He utters such a simple word, but it’s said with serrated edges that make my chest tighten as I swallow hard.

“Hey!” Connor stands, and the server freezes, mid-pour of coffee at the table next to us, then stands and crosses her arms. “You don’t get to speak to a lady like that, Dunner.

I know you’ve been going through it. I know you just lost your mom.

But she has every right to be here. Matter of fact, last I heard, she didn’t even ask to be here—she’s just fulfilling your mom’s wishes. ”

Steam practically blooms out of Dominic’s ears as Connor—and this town—keeps him in check.

“You’re going to regret this,” he hisses.

I roll my eyes and stand. “You know what, Dunner?—”

“Don’t call me that.” His dark gaze burns down on me, and I pretend it has no effect, but in reality, the heat burns my skin, and my mind keeps thinking back to when I just met him and he was sweet and kind.

I think of waking up on his chest and how he made me a toasted bagel and takes his coffee just like me.

“Fine,” I relent. “I’m not here to cause drama. If you ignore me, I will ignore you. And these next couple of months will fly by.”

“Months?” He cocks an eyebrow, challenging me.

“What? You don’t think I can get it done in a couple of months?” I counter, crossing my arms .

“Have you seen the place?”

“Have you seen what I can do?”

His gaze inadvertently falls to my mouth, causing me to lick the memory off my lips.

“It’s a lot of work.”

“Good thing I don’t have any friends in town. So if you would just let me work, you won’t even know I’m here.”

His jaw pulses, and he looks me up and down. “What are you proposing?”

“Nothing. A truce, if anything. Leave me alone, and I will leave you alone. I’ll be running out of this town soon, and the keys will be back in your hands before you know it.”

He stares at me, and I can tell behind his searching eyes, he doesn’t want to agree.

“Can I get a box, please?” I ask my server with gorgeous blond curly hair.

“Sure thing, hun,” she says, grabbing a box from the back of the bar. I glance at her name tag.

“Thanks, Joelle.”

“Thank you, Vada.” She winks, and my heart rate speeds up.

Again, it feels like I have my crimes, my job, and my circumstances written on my forehead.

“You don’t have to be nice to her, Jo.”

“You don’t have to be an ass,” she quips back, then looks at me. “He’s harmless, Vada.”

“Sure, he is.” I force a smile with wide, unbelieving eyes as I shovel the rest of my meal in the Styrofoam box and flip the lid closed.

Sighing, I turn to Connor. “It was nice to meet you. I have work to do.”

I leave the restaurant without looking back until I hear my name being called.

“Vada! Wait!”

I turn to see Connor jogging toward me.

“Yes,” I say, eyebrows raised .

“Look, I get he isn’t the most friendly guy when you’re on his bad side, but I swear we’re not all like that.”

The way he splays his hands in front of him and offers a boyish shrug would indicate he is trying very hard to assure me nice guys exist.

“I promise I don’t care, Connor. I mean, no disrespect, but I am only in town for a couple of months…

maybe. I’m fulfilling a job for a woman that passed away and then I’m gone.

I’m not writing a travel review or an exposé on this town.

I appreciate you wanting me to feel safe or at home or whatever, but it really is unnecessary. ”

He crosses his arms and smirks. “You’re a tough cookie.”

“I am not a tough cookie. I am a soft cookie,” I admit, albeit cheesily. “I have feelings that get hurt. I am sensitive. I am kind. I am loyal and dedicated, and that is why I am going to do this job, because I made a promise to someone. Unfortunately, that someone’s son is a complete dick.”

He chuckles a bit. “Oh, come on, his mom just died.”

I press my lips into a closed-lip smile and open my driver’s side door. “Which is why I am choosing not to pick a fight.”

He absorbs my answer and picks at his teeth with his tongue before speaking. “Let’s do something fun tomorrow night.”

I cock an eyebrow.

“Now, before you say no, it’s not a date. I know you have a job to do, but you might as well have some fun while you’re here.”

I stare at him, waiting for the big reveal of what he had in mind and preparing to say no.

“Friday night is the annual Shellport Apple Festival. It’s a big deal. There will be a live band, beer garden, and food trucks. Everyone goes, and it’s always a good time.”

“I don’t know…”

“No pressure. But if you do decide to go, I’ll be at the Veterinary Hospital tent until seven and then I’ll be free to wander the festival with you. Maybe have a drink or bob for apples,” he suggests, his smile tugging at his lips .

This man is not at all my type, but there is something charming about him. And by the way Dominic has been treating me, I could probably use an ally.

“Maybe I’ll be there after work,” I relent, knowing I probably will.

“Work?” he asks.

I sigh, exhaustedly. “Believe it or not, I have an actual job that is a contractual obligation, and Annabelle isn’t the only person who ever dies.”

I cringe internally at my insensitivity, but understanding washes over his face. His brain connecting the dots. His realization that my weird job this town is learning about is, indeed, a real thing.

“Who died this time?” he asks.

I lick my lips and hesitate.

“His name is Benjamin Bright.”

“Nice name.”

“Yes, and a very nice man. Horrible wife, though.”

He cocks an eyebrow, and I grin. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”