Why does everyone just help themselves to my space? This is a morgue, not a Starbucks.

Blake, though, seems to at least be willing to be polite about it. “I’m not trying to piss you off, but I really do need that paperwork done so I can get my car fixed.”

Okay . . . that’s a little bit of progress. “Fine. Suit yourself if you want to wait. This might take a while.”

Chapter 5

Blake

I hear the dare in her voice, see the challenge in her eyes as she glares at me in her desk chair. I’m not sure what prompts me to do it, but I give myself a good spin like Holly did a moment ago before they realized I’d entered the room.

When Zoey growls a bit, I know good and well exactly why I did it. I like setting her on edge because she makes me feel that way just by turning oxygen into carbon dioxide. Turnabout only seems fair.

The tension works through her, from her surgical cap-covered hair to her bootie-covered feet, her shoulders bunched up, her jaw tight, and her back ramrod straight. In contrast, I slouch comfortably in her chair with my head thrown back against the headrest and give her a lazy smile that clearly says, challenge accepted.

“Whatcha doing?” I ask even though I can see exactly what she’s doing, gross and disgusting as it may be. I want to keep looking at Zoey, especially when I can look my fill because she’s giving me zero fucks, but my stomach revolts. Not at her, but at the way her gloved hands disappear into the body on her table and reappear. I’m trying my hardest to hold onto my man card, but I can feel my palms going clammy where I grip the hand rests.

This isn’t a George Romero movie or something. There are no gushing geysers of claret or ropy strings of internal organs being yanked out. This is real, and while it’s not as bloody, ironically, that somehow makes it all the more disturbing.

And Zoey’s utterly comfortable with it. “Working.”

She shows no interest in continuing a conversation, and in fact, doesn’t even look up—how is she doing that without hurling all over the place? —but I’m not easily swayed and am definitely no quitter. Especially when I think the payoff will be worth it. And something tells me Zoey Walker is worth a hell of a lot more than a little one-sided conversational work.

So I keep at it.

“County Coroner. That’s an unusual field of work. How’d you get into it?” I ask.