Page 113 of For Better or Hearse
The thought pops into her head so fast she cringes.
Jesus.
What is wrong with her? Dressing for a man like some Stepford woman? What kind of hell has she wrought? Still, it brings a smile to her face. Imagining his reaction. Because isn’t that how he’s made her feel this last week? Vulnerable. Delicate. Sexy.
When she arrived, she wasn’t sure she’d survive this vacation.Now all that’s on her mind, day in and day out, is seeing Nathaniel. Bantering at brunch. A good-natured race over the boulders on a sunset hike. Sneaking to each other’s rooms at night.
She doesn’t feel so alone on this trip. Not anymore.
She needs him. Especially in Maui. The on-edge feeling she’s had since they landed in Hawaii disappears when she’s in his arms.
A week ago, she was so sure this was a fling. A truce with the enemy. But it’s quickly become far more intimate. Special. Like it’s hers.
The thought’s sharp, cutting. A sensation she wants to hold on to.
Which means they have to end when the trip does. Continuing this relationship isn’t a possibility. Ash isn’t in the market for love or anything remotely related to the romance realm.
“Let me get it.”
“What?” Ash jumps, spins around. Claire has appeared, an espresso in her hand. “No. I can’t let you do that.”
“Please.” Claire smiles. “We both know nothing would piss Don off more.”
Ash laughs, then shakes her head. “I really appreciate it. I do. But I’m a fully grown woman. I can buy my own dress.”
“Then do it,” Delaney goads.
Ash narrows her eyes.
“Delaney,” Claire chides. Sips her drink. “We’ve talked about this. There’s no peer pressure in shopping.”
But Ash takes the bait and, on a whim, buys the ridiculous dress. It’s more money than she should spend, but what is savings if she can’t treat herself and then spiral guiltily afterward? As she leaves the store, the fancy boutique bag feels like a bomb in her hand. Only a good type of bomb. One loaded with rainbows and confetti and happiness. It’s been a long time since she’s felt this way. Like she’s belonged. Like she has it together.
“How about manicures before dinner?” Claire asks, her wispyvoice smoking between them. “My treat.” Her eyes land on Ash, and she gives a little nod as if to sayyou too.
Oh.
Stunned, Ash follows Claire and Delaney into a tiny nail salon. The room is half-empty. Tropical fish swim in wall-to-wall tanks. TVs play episodes ofThe Real Housewives. Crystals dangle from the ceiling.
They’re quickly ushered into chairs. Glasses of champagne magically appear in their hands.
Is this what it feels like to be let into the Whitford circle of excellence? Manicures and mimosas? Either way, she’ll take it.
Ash sits in the middle of Delaney and Claire. Her mind swims, searching for something to say. An appropriate topic.
Her mind lights on Nathaniel. Of course it’d be Nathaniel. Everything she likes about him. Everything she’s trying not to like too. His hard exterior full of broody frowns and stern brows. But inside, he’s like a Cadbury egg. All gooey and soft. How it’s an honor to crack that shell and scoop out his goodness. His thoughts. How he’s a stickler about time, a hard-ass to his siblings, but it’s only because he cares so much. He doesn’t know how to show it any other way. How every night, he fucks her senseless and leaves her begging for more.
But yeah, no. That’s not the way to Claire’s heart.
Thankfully, it’s Delaney who pipes up.
“By the way.” The pink-haired woman claps her hands. “I got the part inAdieu, My Friend. I just heard from my agent. I fly to France next month.” A squeal bubbles out of her. “My entire résumé is going to be slasher flicks.”
“I approve of this,” Ash says, lifting her champagne in a toast.
“I’m so proud of you,” Claire says, leaning forward to smile at her daughter. “That you’re making your own way, DeeDee. That nothing has stopped you.”
Delaney flushes. “Thanks, Mom.”