Ride or Dye (Curl Up and Dye Mysteries, #6) by Aimee Nicole Walker

Author:Aimee Nicole Walker [Walker, Aimee Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Curl Up and Dye Mysteries, #6
Publisher: Chasing Rainbows Press LLC
Published: 2018-09-11T16:00:00+00:00

“WHAT’S THIS THING CALLED again?” I asked Josh, buttoning my shirt. My voice was a mixture of exhaustion from our late-afternoon sex aerobics session and annoyance from having to dress up on vacation. Why couldn’t we order in and watch television or sit on our balcony all night long? I wasn’t even aware I’d packed a dress shirt. Oh right. Josh had packed a “just in case” suitcase.

“It’s just some kind of social mixer where we can get to know the other participants who will also be trying to solve the mystery this weekend. We don’t have to stay long. We’ll eat dinner and be cordial then sneak away at the first opportunity.” My husband’s voice was calm and nonchalant which means he had a plan and it would be many hours before we made it back up to our room. I also knew he’d make it up to me when we did, so I went along with it rather than calling him out. I referred to this as picking my battles. A person only had so much energy to expend, and he’d sucked and fucked nearly all of mine out of me. I wouldn’t waste what was left on arguing.

“Remember, you need to act angry at me for something. We want the competition to see us as weak. What?” Josh asked when he looked over at me.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your furrowed brow and scowling eyes are saying a lot,” Josh countered.

“I just don’t want our fake fighting to turn into real fighting,” I answered. “This never works in television or movies. Someone always says some passive-aggressive remark to get a dig in at the other person then tries to scoff it off as part of their act.”

“Babe, passive aggressive isn’t my forte. I’m very upfront with my scorn and derision.”

“One could argue your snarkiness is the epitome of passive-aggressive behavior,” I countered.

Josh turned away fully from the mirror he’d been looking into while styling his hair. I knew the hands on his hips, tilted head, and narrowed eyes meant he was working his way into righteous—or unrighteous—indignation. I learned a very long time ago never to refer to it as a hissy fit because it fueled the first fight we ever had and almost destroyed us before we had a chance to get started.

“You knew you were marrying a snarkicist,” Josh said. “I believe you were the one who invented the phrase.”

“I did,” I replied, nodding. “I also seem to remember defining the term as someone who uses snark as a main form of communication, often in a passive-aggressive way. And yes, I married you in all of your snark glory, and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, Josh. All I’m saying is: I do not want our fake fight turning into a real fight.”

“It won’t,” Josh said certainly.

I wish I could feel as certain as he was, but I had a strange feeling his plans would go sideways or blow up in our faces. All I

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