“What?” he startles, spinning around and holding a plate. It’s also when I notice he’s wearing an apron. Sure it says “Kiss the Chef,” but it’s an apron, for heaven’s sake.
“What are you wearing?”
“An apron,” he replies, glancing down in question. “Why?”
“Oh, no reason, Martha.”
“Martha?”
“Stewart.”
Samuel rolls his eyes and turns back to the task at hand. When he has both plates dished up, he takes them to the table, where he’s already set two glasses of ice water. “Are you just going to tease me about my apron, or did you have something important to discuss?” he asks, untying the black and white apron and hanging it from a hook beside the refrigerator.
“Oh, I have something very serious to discuss, but why are you wearing an apron? You know you’re thirty-six, right, and not eighty?”
Samuel sighs as I take a seat and place my napkin on my lap. “I wear it to protect my clothes from food splatters. This may sound completely foreign and too refined for you, but there’s a whole demographic of people who like protecting their clothes,” he says.
The moment the words leave his mouth, I drop a forkful of food down my shirt, so I bring the material up to my mouth and suck the vegetables off.
“See what I mean?” he mumbles, taking his fork and a much smaller bite of his dinner.
I moan in pure divine pleasure as I take a huge bite of food. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, this is amazing.”
“It is good,” he confirms. “What is it you were worked up about?”
“Oh! Yeah, I threw out your animal tested body products.” I shovel a big bite of flaky crusty pot pie, letting another moan fly as I chew.
“You what? Why would you do that?”
“Did you not hear me? They test that brand on animals.”
“But…” he starts, setting his fork down and rubbing his forehead, “that’s my shampoo and soap. What the hell am I supposed to use now?”
I shrug. “Use mine.”
“Use yours?”
I glance across the table. “Are you just going to repeat everything I say? Yes, use mine. It’s all natural, made from shea butter and tea tree oil.”
He pulls a face. “Doesn’t that smell nasty?”
“It has traces of it. You can’t even smell it.”
He just shakes his head and continues eating his food, mumbling about changing his shampoo. He remains silent as I tell him all about my schedule for tomorrow, including one Reiki session and two massages. I’m not working at the lingerie shop until Wednesday, so I’ll be able to get a lot of laundry done tomorrow, which is good because I’m not sure I have any clean panties.
“You’re headed back to work?” I ask as I gather up my dirty plate, grabbing his as I walk by.
“Sure, I was done,” he protests, but doesn’t come after his plate. I knew he was done. He’d been just picking at a few crumbs while I finished my meal. “And yes, I’m back to work tomorrow.”
“Lots of dead bodies awaiting, I’m sure.”
He just lifts a shoulder. “It’s what I do.”
Filling the sink to wash the dishes, I turn his way. “I think your job is kinda cool.”
Samuel stops and turns my way. “Seriously? No one thinks my job is cool.”
I shrug as I set our dirty dishes in the sudsy water. “Well, I do. I mean, it’s totally weird, but completely cool all at the same time. And I hate to be the one to tell ya, but I’m kinda weird.”
“You don’t say,” he deadpans, grabbing the towel to dry.
“I already know I am, Sammy, but my point is your job is different, it’s not something just anyone can do, and what you do matters to the living.”
When he doesn’t say anything, I stop washing my plate and glance his way. He’s just staring at me, a look of wonder and inquisition. “Thank you,” he says as he clears his throat. “You’re probably the only person I know who sees that.”
“Well, I’m sure your siblings do.”
“My siblings think I’m weird.”
“Well, you are,” I tell him with a big grin, rinsing off the plate and handing it to him. “And your siblings just love to tease you.”
He dries it off and sets it inside the cabinet. “They think I’m boring and anal.”
“You are boring and anal. But you’re pretty cool too,” I confess.
He clears his throat as the tips of his ears turn pink. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Besides, no one else I know is as much fun to hassle as you are, Sammy.”
He just sighs and finishes drying the dishes. Truth is, he’s not only fun to hassle, but fun to be with all the other times too. And now we’re roommates. At least for a few weeks. Married roommates. It’s like the stars started to align for me, and now I’ll have unbridled access to Samuel. No better way to prove to him our marriage is headed to forever than if we’re shacking up together, right?
Right.
I have so many ideas to prove it to him, too. It’s going to be fun.
Chapter Thirteen
Samuel
My first day back after the long weekend is stressful and troublesome. Elma isn’t feeling so well, but insisted on staying to help me get caught up. There were two deceased individuals brought in this past weekend, and nothing really done. Not that I’d expected Aaron to do too much work on his weekend on-call. He’s more of a leave-it-for-Samuel kind of guy. But the entire downstairs looks as if a small storm blew through it. The embalming machine was left out and plugged in and the sink and countertop littered with latex gloves. This is exactly why I choose to do things myself, because I can’t always count on young Mr. Hanson to get the job done right.
Or without trashing the entire business in the process.
After the second family comes in to discuss funeral arrangements, I finally convince Elma to go home. It was bad enough she sneezed and coughed all over the conference room, but
