Read Online Death Takes a Holiday by Jennifer Harlow - Free Book Online Page A

spent most of the day shopping before visiting April at the salon, gossiping with everyone while being pampered. I feel like a new woman.
    “We’re making potato salad for the party,” Nana says, adding the mayo.
    “Your hair looks nice,” Mrs. Ramirez says.
    “I just got a trim and blow-out for the party,” I say, running my hair through it. “Are you coming with us, Mrs. R?”
    “Of course she is,” Nana says. “She even made guacamole.”
    “I do love a good party.”
    “I thought about making gingerbread men, but I didn’t know if there was a Christmas theme or not,” Nana says.
    “I have no idea,” I answer, kicking off my espadrilles.
    “I love Christmas,” Mrs. R says. “What do you want, bonita ?”
    “Peace on earth and goodwill toward men. That or a pony.” I smile at them, then start toward my room.
    “We’ll leave in half an hour!” Nana calls.
    I shut my bedroom door. With the ex-boyfriend factor thrown in, a quick costume change is required. Yes, I dumped him, but it would be against the girl code if, given the chance, I didn’t make him rue the day he ever lost me. The five-hundred-dollar Carolina Herrera sleeveless blue and white polka dot halter dress with V back and matching patent leather heels should do it. Still. I am a tad nervous about seeing Steven again.
    Officer Steven Weir of the Chula Vista Police Department, my only true-blue boyfriend. (The man I lost my virginity to doesn’t count unless therapy sessions constitute dates.) Steven and I met on a double blind date with Javi and April. Steven and Javi met at their gun club and became friends over their mutual love of killing paper men. He’d go over to April’s house, drink beer, and hang out. Why she thought these would be selling points when pitching the date is beyond me. But it was Friday night, and as usual, I had nothing better to do. There might also have been the promise of free French fries. I am a weak woman.
    My first thought when I saw him was, Hawaiian shirts are so two decades ago . It was bright red with tiny martini glasses on it. Besides that he was pretty cute. Short sandy brown hair spiked up, medium height and build, small brown eyes, and rounded baby cheeks he never grew out of. His smile was his best feature. Mischievous. That elevated him a tad in my book. Dinner was pleasant enough. We talked about work, politics, the usual first date stuff. He called the requisite three days later and asked me out again. Couldn’t think of a reason to decline, so I went.
    For two years we got together three times a week just like clockwork. We’d go to a sporting event, barbecues, or occasionally a movie. And once a week, usually Friday night, we’d have bland sex. It was okay. If we had fun beforehand, it could be a good night, but nothing to write home about. Twenty minutes from start to finish. My fault though. If I felt even the slightest hint of an orgasm, I’d fake one and end it, though this only happened once or twice.
    All in all we had a decent relationship. He told cool cop stories, gave good foot massages, and unless he was working, I always had something to do Friday night besides laundry. Then the idiot went and spoiled it all by asking me to move in with him. I said no. He said say yes or we’re over. I said goodbye. Thus ended Steven and Beatrice.
    April tried to talk me out of it, but I wouldn’t relent. No one knew why I had done it. On paper we were a great couple: mature, responsible, friendly. We didn’t get on each other’s nerves. He’d make a good husband and father. But every time I imagined our lives together, I’d never get past the wedding. We had little chemistry. We had nothing in common. He was … boring. I knew we weren’t right together early on but kept going because, heck, no one else was lining up to ask me out. Normal women had boyfriends, and I’d be darned if I wasn’t one of them.
    He handled the split well, rebounding with another officer on the force within