For Better or Hearse

Chapter Twenty-Two

I t’s what he always suspected. She is a cat.

Beside him, Ash stretches and flexes in the sheets. Wild black hair, long limbs, sunlight on her porcelain skin. Christ. The places he can explore. New details he can uncover. Like the little arrow on the curve of her ass.

“You up?” he asks, leaning over her to kiss her back.

“Mmm.” The sheets rustle. “No thanks to you.”

Her low, throaty moan has him hard again. He can still feel her on him. When she came to him early this morning after his grandfather had gone to coffee. She jumped into his arms, and they fucked for hours.

And now it’s noon. They missed breakfast and the art museum.

He turns to the balcony. The sun is high in the sky. For him, sleeping in is like a foreign antigen. He’s always tried to fight it off. Clearly, Ash is a creature of sloth and habit. He leans over again. This time to kiss her bare shoulder. His beautiful creature.His dangerous obsession.

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.

His hands must be magnetized for her, because any hallway, any elevator, he automatically finds her. So absorbed in Ash Keller that it unnerves him to think he’s lost his head over a woman like this.

It’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced before.

She’s unlike anyone he’s ever known before.

Irascible, infuriating, irritating, and irresistible .

He runs a hand down her spine to the curve of her ass. “You have good bones.”

A dark head pops out of the comforter. A smile curves her lips. “Thinking of carving me up?”

He brackets her jaw. “Not anytime soon.”

Mischief flares in her gray-green eyes. “You’re becoming very aggressive,” she murmurs before their lips meet and he kisses her senseless.

Ash moans and tugs him on top of her. Goddamn, he could get used to this. Kissing this woman every day for the rest of his life.

But he can’t go there. He needs to reroute his brain.

This is a vacation no-strings no-feelings fuck.

Still, to reduce Ash to that? It makes him feel like a fucking shithead.

A knock on the door.

“Shit.” Ash pulls back in a panic and dives back under the covers.

“Room service,” he deadpans.

Somehow, they’ve made it through the last two days without getting caught. He doesn’t feel the need to sneak around, but Ash is adamant that no one know. She never stays over. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him.

He answers the door, lets in the valet and waits while the food is set up. All the while, Ash stays buried in the mound of pillows.

After tipping the valet, he shakes the bed. “Coast is clear, Bigfoot.”

The comforter whips off the bed, and then Ash is blinking into the sun. She’s naked, bare-faced and beautiful. The way his body reacts is ridiculous.

“We have food. Hydration.” He points at the white-tableclothed table set up with a spread. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I ordered…”

Standing, she sweeps a delighted gaze over the table. Coffee. Pastries. Benedicts. “The whole menu.” Sashaying past him, she peeks over her shoulder and grins. “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.

“Don’t look so serious.” She plants a kiss on his lips, then surveys the table, lifting cloches and inspecting the food. “You can tell a lot by a person’s breakfast order.” Ash lifts the lid on a bowl of oatmeal, makes a face, slams it down with a clang. “What are you, Nathaniel Whitford,” she says, holding out an invisible microphone, “choosing to partake in today?”

He plays along. “Wheat toast, eggs over easy, and granola and milk.”

“Ah. A simple, practical, extremely boring meal.”

He laughs. “It’s more to ward off the Whitford family curse of high cholesterol.”

When she uncovers a bowl of tropical fruit and Greek yogurt, her eyes light up. Nathaniel takes note.

Ash claims the bowl and pours out two cups of coffee. Once they’ve both picked their breakfast, they slide back into bed. Ash, naked, curls up against the pillows. They sit and eat. Fall into a simple, easy silence that Nathaniel likes too much.

Nothing has ever felt better than being with this woman.

Beside him, Ash picks through the fruit. Mango. Pineapple. She smiles. Spears a hunk of coconut.

“How is it?” Nathaniel asks.

“Perfection. Did you know coconut’s my favorite fruit?” She wrinkles her nose. “Favorite nut?” With a shrug, she kicks her impossibly long legs over Nathaniel’s lap. “My mom always made me these snowy white coconut cakes for my birthday. Historic coconut cakes like ten feet tall.” She waves her fork in the air above her. “Truly gargantuan. One year, she was taking it from the oven and dropped it. Smashed it all over the ground. She stood there, stunned, and then she started to cry.” Color deepens on her cheeks. “ So Tessie and I grabbed forks, popped a squat and ate it off the ground. Then my mom joined us. It was the best fucking birthday.”

He smiles at her smile. “Sounds fun.”

She nudges him with her foot. “Which reminds me. You still owe me a coconut.”

Amusement fills him. “I’ll be sure to swing by the grocery store.”

Rolling her eyes, Ash flops back against the bed. “Tell me something fascinating about you. Really wow me, Nathaniel.”

“See this?” He nods at the scar on his shoulder.

“What’s that from?” Her eyes glitter. “Knife attack on the port bow?”

“Patient in the ER stabbed me with his ballpoint pen when he woke up from anesthesia.”

“War wound. How tragic.” Leaning in, she sweeps her red lips across the puckered scar.

His heart jumps. Not to mention his cock.

Ash’s brows draw together. “Did you always want to be a doctor?”

He wraps his hand around her foot. Red toenails. He waits as she tenses and is relieved when she relaxes and doesn’t pull away.

“I wanted to be a marine biologist.”

“You got close.”

“I did. What about you?”

“Junk food taster, age eight. Then trash compactor. I loved smashing things.”

He chuckles. These brief, fleeting moments where she drops her guard. He craves them.

“I used to want to be a doctor,” she offers.

He tilts his head, surprised, but remains quiet, waiting for the story there.

“If you can believe that.” Her laugh is light. “After I found out I had diabetes. Like I could fix myself.”

Frowning, he runs his hands over her thigh. Those tattoos he knows all about. The black rose she got to celebrate her death doula certification. The colorful lotus watercolor to honor her aunt’s passing. “There’s nothing about you that needs fixing.”

She purses her lips, thoughtful, and stabs another piece of fruit. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

He doesn’t like that. Her response, her flat tone make his heart constrict in his chest.

She shifts in the sheets. Sets her bowl down. “All my life, I could never really stay with anything. I had all these jobs. Professional mourner. Wedding objector.” Her eyes flick guiltily to his. “I was all over the place. Sometimes, I still feel like that. Grasping at rings, desperate to be the person I thought I was, all while everyone is trying to tell me who they think I should be. I don’t know. The sameness of life was always so boring to me. I could never sit still. I liked the dark, the gloom, the weird. But I made bad professional choices.” She utters a bitter laugh. “Bad life choices.”

“You do that,” he says gently. “When you talk about yourself. Put yourself down.”

“Observation skills?” She arches a brow. “This early in the morning?” It comes off light, like a tease, even though it’s more of a push.

When it comes to Ash, he’s learning she has something he can’t touch. But he wants to. He wants to open that box.

The wild thrill of Ash Keller is his new favorite thing.

“What would you do?” he asks. “If you could do anything?” He wants to get as much out of her as he can before she clams up.

A sudden shyness crosses her face.

“Honestly…” She laughs, then bites her lip in that endearing yet vulnerable way he’s learned is her nervous tic. “This. I love this whole death doula thing. For the first time, I feel like I’ve found my calling. And like it’s enough to…” She trails off, a slight break to her voice.

“What?” he presses.

“To make it a business.” Excitement leaps into her words. “ My company. Have a whole website and everything. I have ideas. A name.” She pulls her knees under her chin, wrapping her arms around her legs. “ A Very Good Death .”

“I like that.”

She laughs. “I feel like a freak even commercializing death, but…”

“Not a freak,” he interjects. “You offer a service that’s needed. You should do it.”

Anyone would be lucky to have Ash by their side at the end of their life.

“Yeah. Maybe.” She opens her mouth, closes it. “Like I’d even have the slightest idea where to start.In case you haven’t guessed, I’m not that great at organization or business.”

He studies her. Suddenly hit by the urge to pull his billionaire card and give her everything. Everything she wants, she gets. No more struggling to pay for overpriced insulin supplies. No more shitty part-time jobs. He wants Ash to have a job she loves. She’d never ask for help or handouts. Little Miss I Can Handle Anything. It’s one thing he respects about her, and yet…

“But yeah. That’s what I’d do.” The wistfulness in her eyes falls away, replaced by a dark and hazy cloud. “Maybe one day I’ll be someone with their life together. No mess. No chaos.”

“Hey,” he says fiercely, pulling her into his arms. Closing the gap between them. “I like your mess. Your chaos.”

She shakes her head, her stubborn gaze flicking up to meet his. “You say that now.”

“I mean it.” He kisses her deeply. The world stops.

Purring, Ash twines her arms around his neck. Rakes her nails through his hair as they kiss and kiss and kiss.

Her smile is feline when she pulls back. She nuzzles once at his neck, bites his lip.

He tucks her unruly black hair behind her ears. He knows he told her no feelings, but he’s wondering if that ship hasn’t sailed. “Maybe in Maui, we can get an adjoining room. ”

She inhales sharply, stiffening in his arms. “Right.” Twisting away from him, she moves to the edge of the bed.

His stomach gutters. He fucked up. Said the wrong thing.

“How many days until Maui?” Her voice is distracted.

“Two. Why?”

Silence.

Nathaniel’s stomach sinks. “Everything okay?” He runs a hand down her back. “Ash?”

Her shoulders rise on a deep breath. She keeps her back toward him. “It’s fine.”

Not fine. Not the way she’s leaving. Not like this.

She stands, finds her black swimsuit cover-up. Pulls it on over her head. Finally turns to face him. “I should go.” Her smile is forced, awkward. “Before everyone wonders where we are.”

His throat bobs. “All right.”

He watches as she goes, his jaw struggling through the words.

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.