Page 47 of For Better or Hearse

The only thing she gets is an unfairly handsome brow furrow.

With a withering sigh, she tosses the magazine on the seat near her feet. So much for peace and quiet. “Why are you here, Nathaniel? Can’t you just let me lounge poolside in peace? Don’t you have family to annoy?”

He takes in her boots, then surveys her face.

He points at the beach. “Tate’s up there right now.” In the bright blue sky above, a parasailer flails. “My mother’s at a massage, and my father’s probably virtually carving up the face of a pre-teen girl.”

Ash lowers her sunglasses, squints at the sky. “Over under odds Tate gets attacked by a seagull?”

Nathaniel’s lips flatten into an almost smile. “Twenty-to-one.” Then, in a disappointing move of modesty, he pulls a shirt from his gym bag and shrugs it on.

Ash sits up on her elbows. His shirt’s plastered to his damp skin. All those toned muscles beg to be free. “Why would you wear clothes? You work so hard to earn validation from the female species.”

Shaking his head, he sets his beer on the table. “I think the female species will survive.”

“You’re too handsome.” She appraises him. “Maybe you need a scar.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What’d you have in mind?”

She can’t help the wicked grin that crosses her face. But it’s wiped away when her lounger is rocked. Ash snaps her head to the left.

The redheaded little boy smirks at her and slams his shovel against the metal frame of her chair.

Ash flinches at the sound. Then growls at him.

With a squeal, he takes off.

“Weird-ass little kid,” Nathaniel mutters.

“He’s like Chucky roaming the grounds, minus a murder weapon.”

The boy runs over to a woman in big Jackie Kennedy sunglasses. But those aren’t what snag Ash’s attention. It’s her sandals. Strappy, jelly-like flip-flops covered in spikes. They’re right up Ash’s alley.

Nathaniel nods at the sandals. “You like those?”

Love them.

She shrugs. “They’re fine.” She will never admit her feet are small forest fires in her boots. Nathaniel needs no more fuel to add to his ammunition.

He laughs. Something soft, quiet falls between them.

Ash inhales. Fights the sudden tightness in her lungs. She has to do it. Be bigger. It’s the only human thing to do. Because, like him or not, he did save her life.

“Thank you,” she says softly.

His response is a confused frown.

“For earlier,” she clarifies. “For not letting me fall to my untimely death.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” he replies. “But even I wouldn’t shove you off a cliff.”

Ash arches a brow. “That statement does leave room for you to hire someone with all your billions.”

A chuckle rolls off his lips. “Despite what you think, I’m not that entitled.”

Her phone chimes.

Forcing her attention from his unfairly gorgeous face, she leans over to the small table and silences the warning from her blood sugar monitor.