Hard As Stone (Beautiful Betrayal Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

marital record stands undefeated. Eight years, three months…I close my eyes against the sting… twelve days .
    Inhaling, I blow out a breath of bittersweet sorrow that accompanies his memory. Hence my last name: O’Malley. Martin was a far distant relative to the famous Nantucket clan—you know the ones. It’s a question I’m routinely asked when people connect the dots.
    “Hi, Phoenix.” The greeting jars me from my thoughts and I refocus on the present, wiping an errant blonde strand of my hair that sticks to my cheek. Another woman joins Nina, not her partner Reina. I squint at them, silently conceding that I don’t recognize her but cordially return her mini-wave as a cloud of smoke swirls by.
    “Smells good,” I whisper-talk, stepping away from the door, and under the heat of embarrassment at the realization it’s the weed they’re smoking, not the food they’re grilling.
    “Care for a hit?” Nina holds out the joint. “By the way, this is Tracy. New HOA prez.”
    From here, it looks like they’re grilling octopus and smells of garlic yet fishy. I don’t want the smoke—weed or food—to be absorbed by my hair or clothes. Spencer is super sensitive to scents, especially those resembling cigarettes or cigars. Being met by a rant with Brooke visiting would be embarrassing enough—not that he’d relent with company. He’d have a fit if I came home reeking of smoke whether solo or in a mob. A rudimentary neighbor greeting isn’t worth me having to jump in the shower to wash my hair with the bio-ethical peppermint hemp soap he prefers and I put up with (not wanting to incite his bottomless disdain).
    “No thanks. I brought dinner and better get inside.” I lift the bags a few inches as if indicating a valid excuse.
    “Really?” Nina’s almond-shaped eyes momentarily lift to my townhouse as if in question. Then she exchanges a ‘look’ with her friend.
    Spencer’s Saab is a few feet away and if I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if he were home. Her odd reply isn’t bait enough for me to keep standing here. If anything, it spurs a sense of unease that lies at the pit of my stomach.
    “Nice to meet you, Tracy. Take it easy and bon appétit ,” I reply over my shoulder, marshaling back to my doorway and enter into the dim basement hall. Closing the door, I kick off my Birkenstocks and from the glass insets, I watch my neighbors deep in a discussion. Whatever the subject is, it warrants a frown from Nina, then a shrug from Tracy.
    Perspiration dots my forehead and cheeks, so much a droplet slides to my chin. I shake my head at why I’m trying to decipher their conversation, sweating bullets, and toting bags of spicy curry and tandoori food that is sure to have permeated my clothing and skin. As if on cue, the sour twist knotting my insides flares. With the back of my arm, I wipe my forehead, smearing the sweat and forcing down the whisper of worry.
    Mewing at my feet ensues and I let go a knowing smile. Oh my. “Mommy’s little helper,” I say to Chester my hairless cat vying for attention. He rubs his cheek against my ankle and I snort, “Is it me or the take-out?”
    What a stinker . My face and neck cool as I pad my way upstairs on bare feet accompanied by Ches. From the basement, I’m welcomed by the muted light of the blinds partially drawn and seductive notes of my jazz playlist. Both are products from Echo , my newest acquisition. A combination tech app and home electronic in a futuristic smart speaker that I linked to my other smart home appliances. From news to music to audio books, and let’s include lighting, laundry, and security, Echo coordinates with voice commands addressed to Alexa. My fav are the word games I recently downloaded. It’s become a nerd challenge between Spence and me, who can stockpile more points as if we were back in high school.
    Entering the kitchen, I hear a deep groan. Before I can set the bags on the polished granite counters, I freeze. Nothing