Page 15 of For Better or Hearse
At least he finds a modicum of comfort in the knowledge that she has to meet his family. He can’t wait to see the shitshow that is tonight.
For the next two weeks, he plans to do to Ash what she’s done to him.
Make her life a living hell.
The devil works hard, but Nathaniel Whitford works harder.
The man’s ready to kill her. Either it’s a throttling with his massive, well-veined hands or a shot-put direct into the ocean from their shared balcony. He could do it. The muscles he’s hoarding—unfairly toned biceps and ridiculously rippling pectorals—are evident even in the stern button-up he’s wearing.
And what did he call her?Bigfoot.
Scoffing, Ash tosses her dresses into a drawer without bothering to hang them up. Everything’s wrinkled anyway.
Clearly, petty nicknames are the best he can do.
Not that she blames him for his anger. Her actions back then were abhorrent. But he did a shitty thing. He should be pissed at himself, not at her.
Her mind leaps to the photos her client gave her. Nathaniel at a strip club, positioned far too familiarly with a girl who resembled a Bratz doll. Big eyes, bigger lips.
An icky, strange feeling suddenly settles in her belly like a lead ball. She’s on vacation with strangers. Worse, those strangers are theWhitfords. Dull, straitlaced millionaires who get what they want with a snap of their spoiled fingers. Her only ally is Augustus.
Puffing her hair out of her face in frustration, she eyes the fluffy white bed. A nap. A nap would be good for regeneration. But if she sleeps, she and Augustus will miss dinner. And she won’t give Nathaniel Whitford the satisfaction of thinking he’s scared her away.
With that vengeful thought, she rallies. After a scalding hotshower, Ash checks her blood sugar and towel dries her hair. She’s midway through her lip liner when her phone buzzes.
Tessie.
“Help,” Ash says into the device. “What do you wear to a dinner party where you need to be cool, calm and collected, but you’re also dining with the family of the man whose wedding you crashed?”
“A paper bag.” Tessie already knows the story, thanks to Ash’s frantic text during the car ride to the resort.
Ash snorts as Tessie stifles her own laughter. “Get serious. I’m having an existential crisis in paradise.”
“I am serious.” Tessie adjusts Bear in her arms. He’s climbing over her like she’s a carousel ride.
“Fuck.” Ash paces her bedroom, already sweating again from nerves. “They’re going to take one look at me and tar and feather me in the square. And why wouldn’t they?” she mutters. “They’re rich and I’m just a rag. They have perfect 401(k)s and make meaningful charitable contributions, but only for the tax write-off. And they do the turkey trot on Thanksgiving. I will bet you a thousand bucks.”
Tessie laughs, her dark eyes dancing. “Done.”
“Don’t get me started on Nathaniel. He’s this ugly, sour, morose doctor with a chip on his shoulder.”
Tessie arches a brow. “Ugly?”
With a flap of a hand, Ash averts her eyes. She regrets saying anything. “He’s one of the worst single, tall assholes I’ve ever met.”
“Of course he’s unbearable. You ruined his wedding.” Tessie’s lips tilt in a frown. “Have you considered apologizing?”
“Never,” Ash hisses. “You’re as bad as Mom.”
Her cousin lets out a thoughtful hum. “Aunt Bev knows the truth.”
Ash rolls her eyes, even though Tessie is right. The ever-present voice of reason, her mom, always ensures solid advice. Especially after Tessie’s mother died. She has always been there for Ash. Toreassure her that her odd jobs and pastimes are valid, that she isn’t one career away from being on Feet Finder.
“Now,” Tessie orders with a giddy determination, “show me your clothes. I will style you from afar, and you will appreciate it.”
“Ruthlessly use me,” Ash crows as she sets her phone aside.
Once her hands are free, she lays out her dresses. Stares at the dark jewel colors that suddenly make her feel like a monster who’s swallowed the sun.