Page 54 of For Better or Hearse
Her client lied to her.
It means what she did was very, very wrong.
It means she can’t lump him in with Jakob anymore.
It means Nathaniel Whitford is not the worst.
She is.
“Please don’t take my horsey,” Ash says, sitting cross-legged on her lounge chair. “I like it.”
As they sit in companionable silence, Augustus examines the chessboard on the small table between them. Then her horse is knocked over.
“Apologies in advance.”
Two more moves, and Augustus has checkmate.
Ash throws her hands to the sky. “You’re a cruel and cunning man, Augustus.” Trying to beat him is a futile objective. As pointless as arguing with a toddler or trying to wear socks with sandals.
They’re spending their last few hours in Honolulu at Waikiki beach.
Obviously, she’s avoiding Nathaniel. Not an easy feat, since they’re both stuck on this two-week trip. Dodging him is awkward and uncomfortable and makes her feel like she’s in hiding.
She’s not angry at him anymore. She’s angry at herself. For being wrong. For being played. For being an asshole and hurting him.
Ash quirks a brow as Augustus resets the board. “Are you sure you didn’t hire me just to kick my ass in chess?”
“My dear,” he says with a smile, “I hired you because you kickmyass.”
“I will never understand this game.” Ash squints in disapproval at the brown and white checkered board.
The sun spreads golden across the sand. A server delivers lunch. Fries and club sandwiches and palomas. Before they can dig in, a frisbee nearly sideswipes their drinks.
The little redheaded Chucky boy from the pool appears.
Ash shoots the kid a glare, tosses the frisbee back in his direction, then forces her attention back to her companion. “How do you feel?” She reclines on the lounge, and Augustus does the same. Her eyes dip to the beach, to Nathaniel, golden and muscled, catching a wave out at sea.
Goddamn that body.
She clears her throat. Regroups. “Do you feel like you’re getting quality family time?” If not, she needs to know whose ass to kick.
He sets his hands on his thighs. “I didn’t expect to. This trip is more about watching them. Taking things in. Making plans.” His bushy brows lift. “Claire and I—our relationship has not always been the best. After Rosalea died, I tended to pull away.”
“Do you think it’s fair…” Ash begins, hesitant. She and Augustus are close. She is giving him a commitment to the end of his life, but she can’t be sure she’s not crossing a line. “To put it all on your dead wife as a reason for your behavior?”
“You know, Ash…” Augustus strokes his chin. “I don’t.” He inhales, determination sparking in his eyes. “I want them all to have the time of their lives. Money is no object.”
She stops him with a firm hand to his arm. “Maybe that’s the problem. You’re focusing on money, not your family. Don’t be like that old white man fromJurassic Park, Augustus.”
He nods. “Denial.”
“Bingo.”
“I was absent. I was unavailable.” He scans the beach, finds his daughter. “I don’t think she’s ever forgiven me.”
“Maybe Claire needs to hear you admit that.”
He lets out a tired sigh. “Maybe she does.”