2. Indie
INDIE
If you’d asked me that morning how I expected my first meeting with my new boss to go, being mauled upon entering his office would not have been at the top of the list—or on the list at all.
It was a surprisingly tender and passionate kiss, catching me completely off guard with its intensity.
Catching me completely off guard in general, because it shouldn’t be happening.
Despite that—I couldn’t resist the urge to deepen it, losing myself in the moment and forgetting my reason for being there.
It was... very inappropriate because this was my new boss.
Or at least, I thought it was considering he was in my old boss’s office, sitting behind the desk like he belonged there… before the attack, that is.
Yet, the feel of his hand curling around the nape of my neck sent a shiver down my spine and I melted into him.
It was a good kiss, however unexpected, and I couldn’t find it within myself to pull away.
Because it was him.
My whole reason for being here.
There was a moment in which he pulled away from me, coming up for air, that I was certain I heard him breathe, “Iris,” before diving back in.
Iris?
Shit.
I was having a difficult time deciding whether the universe was conspiring for me or against me to bring me to this moment in my life.
And then he lifted me (far too easily) and sat me on the desk, and settled himself between my thighs…
Conspiring for. For sure.
Wait. No.
I pulled away from his lips, my hand gently pushing against his chest as I slid off the edge of the desk. My feet hit the floor with a soft thud as I attempted to regain my bearings.
“Christ. I’m sorry, I just… how are you here? What—” He was at a loss for words.
Me too, buddy.
I steeled myself and pointed a finger at my chest. “Indie.”
Me Tarzan, you Jane.How charming.
His eyes widened and his mouth fell open a fraction, recognizing the name from our email correspondence—recognizing that I was his new employee.
He pinched the bridge of his glasses, causing them to slide down his nose, before removing them completely and placing them carefully on the corner of the cluttered desk. “Amazing. I’ve committed sexual assault on my second day on the job. I’ll have Amelia file the paperwork.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, disbelieving.
He took a step toward the door. He was serious.
“Kiernan.” It was strange to finally attach the name to a face. To his face.
He stopped dead in his tracks, snapping out of his initial panic, if only for the time being.
“There is no need for paperwork,” I said seriously. “It’s fine.”
“Wh—,” he started, then closed his eyes and took in a deep, settling breath. “How are you here?”
“Well. I guess I have you to thank for that.” I gave him a small smile.
When I took the job as Sammy’s mortuary assistant almost a year ago, I never imagined I would fall in love with death care the way I had. I’d done it on a whim, influenced by the encounter I’d had with Kiernan the day Reverie closed its doors for good.
To outsiders looking in, it may have seemed absurd for an artist to find fulfillment in mortuary work. However, there was a certain artistry to caring for the deceased—a delicate balance of precision and creativity.
There was most definitely an adjustment period, but Sammy had been an amazing mentor and I’d grown to love this line of work. It gave me a new sense of purpose and redirected my path in life when I felt most lost.
Six months ago, I’d taken over most of the work at Messor Crematoria while Sammy and Amelia maintained everything at the main office. I helped him where he needed me, but Fate Trace was a small town and we weren’t super busy a lot of the time.
Most of my work at the crematoria came from the local university in the town over. Medical students worked with human cadavers during their first-year anatomy courses, and when they were finished with the donated bodies, it was my responsibility to cremate the remains and return the ashes to the university.
“I guess I should ask you how you’re here,” I simultaneously wanted to run away screaming and ask him to kiss me again.
As badly as I wanted to get to know the man who unintentionally placed me on the path that led me here, I knew that would not be a wise decision.
Being in the same room with him caused a visceral reaction within me—within both of us, apparently—and I didn’t trust myself to not act on it.
I loved this job—truly—and I would not risk jeopardizing it. Mixing business with pleasure was rarely a good idea, and I couldn’t bear the thought of things going south and the job I loved becoming something miserably dreadful—or worse, nonexistent.
Again.
“I suppose you’re aware that Sammy left this place to his nephew.” He pointed to himself. “Nephew, guilty as charged.”
What a small freaking world.
“Why did you lie about your name?” he asked.
Yeah. That.
“Panic?” I answered, uncertain.
“What was there to panic about?”
“I was embarrassed, Kiernan. A random guy found me crying on the floor of the men’s room. My first instinct was self-preservation, and I just said the first name that came to mind.”
“The first thing I did when I arrived back in town was try and find you,” he admitted, unashamed. “And here you are.”
“Surpriiiise shawty,” I said awkwardly.
He rolled his eyes. “When you disappeared, I spent days trying to find you on social media, which is difficult to do without a last name in general. I assumed it was a hopeless cause to begin with, but I guess now I know why I couldn’t.”
“Why would you look?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine that I made any kind of positive impression.
“To check on you.”
I supposed that made sense. If I found someone in the middle of a mental breakdown and then they just disappeared, I would probably want to find a way to check up on them too. Especially if I’d just shoved my dick down their throat.
“To get to know you,” he added.
“Have an affinity for the mentally unbalanced?”
He smirked. “An affinity for the breathtaking woman who allowed herself to feel so deeply, who let me inside—just a little.”
Not only was he an amazing kisser, but he was also sweet. Fantastic. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
I released a breath. “Kiernan, we can’t go there. Not now.”
He nodded, agreeing. “I know,” he said. “I guess that means you’ll stick around?”
“Pft. You’d have to pry this job from my cold, dead hands.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”