For Better or Hearse

by Ava Hunter

When he pulls it back, it’s stained in red lipstick. His frame shudders. “So it does come off.” He sounds pleased. “Only for you,” she purrs.

“Yes. I just haven’t been—” Ash hesitates, searching for the right words. Touched, wanted, loved in forever. Instead, she says, “With anyone for a long time.”

How is it that only four days ago, all he wanted to do was buy her a one-way ticket back to LA? He was obsessed with hating her, now he’s just plain obsessed with her. She’s so fucking beautiful and mean, it messes with his mind. She’s under his skin, and he isn’t ashamed to admit he wants her to burrow in deep.

He can’t help but want to take care of her. Maybe it’s the doctor in him. Maybe it’s because he actually cares about this chaotic girl. The thought of her being without sugar terrifies him.

Her cheeks stain with color. “You didn’t have to do that.” “Think of it as making me feel better,” he says around the lump in his throat. She considers him, lips pursed. “I’m truly split between adoration and complete violence.”

She slips a hand into her pocket. When she pulls out a rock, his heartbeat turns irregular. Eyes gleaming, she holds it up. A shiny, jagged black rock. At his quizzical look, Ash laughs. “Don’t worry. Gift shop rock. I don’t want to be cursed the rest of my life.” A shy smile crosses her face. “I figured the sentiment was the same. A rock. It’s for you.” He can’t get the words out. She remembered. Found a way to do this for him. His chest damn near burns from the gesture.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” She tries hard to roll her eyes. “Because I made you come. Simple man.” “No.” He says it with so much seriousness that her heart promptly ceases its beat. “That’s not it.”

For the last two days, they haven’t stopped. Sneaking away to fuck each other after bottomless brunches. Conversations that blow his mind, right before she blows him.

“You don’t have to show off anymore, Doctor Whitford. You already got me into bed.” Frowning, he grasps her hip. “That wasn’t the point of this.” She eats like a toddler, and if he can give her sustenance once a day, it eases his mind.

Nothing has ever felt better than being with this woman.

Stay with me. He wants to say it so damn badly. But they made a deal. No feelings. The last thing he wants to do is push and scare her away. Even if he is enamored with her. The word like is far too simple for Ash Keller. He’s completely gone for this woman. Questioning it, controlling it, seems impossible.

Butterflies automatically swoop into her stomach. It’s just green flag after green flag with him. And then her stomach drops. Too much green. Too many feelings. Noncommittal. They have to be noncommittal and cavalier about this.

“Well, okay. I’ll see you.” “You better,” he says solemnly, eyes heated. Her heart somersaults. Perfect response from the perfect man. Good thing she hates it. Good thing it means absolutely nothing.

With ease, he scales the small drop between their balconies. This tall, thoughtful billionaire, this very serious man who fears nothing. Not even her. He comes toward her, the look on his face soft, hesitant. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

He slips his hands to her waist. As he anchors her to him, he says, “My grandfather isn’t here. We’re neighbors. I think you know what this means.” “I finally get to throw you off the balcony with no witnesses.”

“I don’t care. I want some time with you.” He says it so quietly that it’s nearly drowned out by the sound of the ocean. A weak laugh pops out of her. “I’m sure you have better things to do than watch me sleep.” He sweeps his thumb over her bottom lip. “On the contrary. I’m pretty sure it’s my ideal hobby.”

Shit. Maybe she hasn’t been as good at keeping her walls up as she thought. Keeping Nathaniel out. For once in a long time, it feels like someone sees her. Knows her for who she is. Because he’s more than the fling from a few days ago.

Expression thoughtful, Augustus settles back into the seat. “One thing I’ve learned in this life, Nathaniel, is that if we’re lucky, we get one shot. One death. One life. One good love. I only had ten years with Rosalea. But the one thing I’m glad for…” Augustus tilts his head back, absorbs the warmth of the late afternoon sun. “I’m glad I didn’t hold back my feelings.” For some reason, Nathaniel thinks of Ash. For some reason, he doesn’t stop himself.

Delaney’s like the ghost of shopping past who keeps popping up when Ash least expects it.

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.

“No matter what you wear. Stomping boots. Vampire garb. White dresses that fuck up my heartbeat. I love it all.” “Even more than your rock collection?” She keeps her tone cool, controlled to hide her emotion. What his words mean to her. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, there’s something heated and raw there. “Even more than that. Although igneous is a pretty close second.”

One long arm stretched out across the back of her chair. Her body heats at the slow sweep of his thumb across her shoulder. The boneheaded man isn’t even trying to play hands off. It’s infuriating. She loves it.

The realization sinks into her skin like acid. She isn’t meant for this. She doesn’t belong here. With the Whitfords. She’s too different. Especially for Nathaniel. Suddenly, everything feels wrong. Her dress. Her skin. Nathaniel’s hand grasping hers again.

“It’s different with you.” Delaney searches Ash’s face. “He’s different with you.” Ash holds her breath. She doesn’t want to ask, fights it, but eventually, the question pops out. Curiosity has always been her downfall. “How is he different?” “I’ve never seen him so soft for someone else before.”

Please tell me you’re okay. You’re okay.

“Hi.” He angles in and kisses those red lips. Like it’s natural. Like there’s no other earthly choice but to be drawn to her. He searches her dreamy gray-green eyes. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re hot when you’re angry?”

It’s all he can say. When the truth is, there’s so much more. On the tip of his tongue. Burning like a forest fire through his heart. The minute she lurched out of her chair, he knew he loved her.

He’s never seen anything more beautiful, never felt emotion for anyone like this. Eleven days together, and already, she feels like the home he’s never had.

What she’s saying is ridiculous, but it’s her truth. It kills him that she feels even the least bit left out. Like she doesn’t fit in. Like she’s too weird, when she’s proven her weird is exactly what his family needs.

“I don’t want you to fit,” he says roughly. “You’re Ash. You’re—” Mine. But he doesn’t finish the sentence.

Instead of worrying about how they’ll make it work, he’s ready to figure it out. First, he has to tell her. Nathaniel closes his eyes, presses his mouth against her brow. “You are that person for me,” he says softly. “And you don’t have to wear pearl earrings.” Only he doesn’t know if she hears him. She’s already asleep.

“You said you wanted to see a lighthouse.” His grin’s lopsided, like he hasn’t figured out how to use it. “I reserved it for you.” She stares at the lighthouse and its bright red roof. Her breathing goes shallow. “You can do that?” “For you, I did,” he says seriously. He watches her face closely. “Do you like it?”

Nathaniel, immaculately backlit by the sunset, leans in. “What if I told you…I want to live in a lighthouse with you?” “I’d say…” Emotions swell and bubble in her throat. “Maybe I’ll let you.”

Different. She is different. Unlike anyone he’s ever known. She offends his family. Makes little kids cry. Once upon a time, he’d say they’d never work. They’re different in so many ways, yet they get each other. Belong together. A car can’t be wired without two opposing wires. And that’s what she is to him. Feral, mean, his.

“She’ll be okay.” He has to say it. Because the woman he loves is crying, and he feels so goddamn helpless. All he can do is hold her tight and let her rage.

“Sometimes I think death is easier than love. With death, all you have to do is survive it. And in the end, it doesn’t hurt. Love…you have to chase it. Tend to it. Work for it. Give it back. And sometimes it’s so, so hard. To love someone.”

“He told me I was too much. Too messy. That everything about me was too messy. My hair. My life.”

“I’ve always felt like I didn’t belong,” Ash says. “Not because I’m not good enough, but because of my weird interests, or my diabetes. Take your pick. What Jakob said cemented it in my head. And I hate it. I hate that I let a man like that, a man who couldn’t even stay faithful, who didn’t even see the real me, make me feel like that.” She gives him a sad little smile. “I know who I am…but sometimes I think people don’t want me because of who I am. That they don’t see me.”

You are fierce and you are loyal and you are extremely, extremely mean. And I’m glad to be on the receiving end of all your assholes.”

“Nothing about you is messy,” he says. “I love your wild hair and your mean mouth. They are impossibly perfect. You are perfect.”

“You can never die.” She swipes at her eyes, the stupid moisture that’s decided to make an appearance. “I only have one of you, and if I’m there, the universe might throw me a bone and right whatever fucked-up nonsense they’re planning.”

“There is no seeing where it goes. It just…goes. When we leave, whatever is between us will be over.” Tessie arches a brow. “So there is a whatever.” Ash groans. “No. It’s just sex.” She guffaws. “Last time I had just-sex, I married the guy.” Tessie’s face turns serious as she regards Ash. “Stay, okay?”

He made her feel safe. Understood. Heard. Nathaniel Whitford likes the weird. Her weird. The good and the bad about her. The thought causes her heart to lurch so violently she places a hand to her chest.

God, just the man’s hand is an entire love language.

Eyes blazing, he draws her into him. He palms her sacrum, that smooth expanse of skin above the lush curve of her ass.

Thats not your sacrum

“Truth,” Ash says, glancing over her shoulder at him. “Give it to me.” “Last meal. What would it be?” He hurries to catch up. Grabs her hand. “You and a cloth napkin.” Her kohl-lined eyes flash. A feline grin tips her lips. “Absolute carnage.”

“What I want is to get off this goddamn island,” he swears quietly. With a hand on her chin, he holds her gaze. In the dark, his eyes burn. “I want you to be warm and safe and most importantly…be mine. Be mine, Ash.”

“It’s you. Crispy outside, chewy center.” He palms her cheek, tucking a lock of wild, salty-sea-waved hair behind her ear. “Tough. Mean. Beautiful. I love it.” He kisses her brow. “Every single part of you is perfect.”

She’s going to die. Trapped on an island with Nathaniel Whitford. All because she snuck off to have the best sex of her life.

“I found this. I want you to drink it.” Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “Where’d you get that?” “From the 7-Eleven on the hill,” he says. “Really doing a piss-poor job of bringing in business, if you ask me.”