Page 58 of For Better or Hearse
“What if he can’t swim?” Amusement tinges Nathaniel’s voice.
“He’ll learn. Or not.” Tucking a lock of black hair behind her ear, she looks up. “Now tell me a truth.” She gives him a once-over. Her lips curl, feline. “Where do your balls go when you’re in a scuba suit?”
Nathaniel chokes, then laughs. “Jesus, Ash.”
“Ash, huh?” She props her hands on her hips. “Whatever happened to Bigfoot?”
“You’ll always be Bigfoot to me,” he says.
Ash finds herself smiling. Finds herself heating in places that haven’t been lit in a very long time.
She doesn’t have to hate him anymore. What a disappointment.
Even more disappointing? The realization that she’s attracted to him. The sheer sight of his handsome face has her mind, has her heart, drifting.
She can smell the sea on his skin. See the glimmer of sunlight reflected in his blue eyes. That sharp jaw is dusted with an inappropriate amount of scruff, like he hasn’t bothered to shave since he got here.
She lets out a trembling breath. Purging lust. Guilt.
“Listen, Nathaniel—”
She opens her mouth to apologize, to confess, but it’s all swept away when she notices Nathaniel’s attention is focused elsewhere.
It’s set on something across the sand, away from her. Lasered on the spike-sandal-wearing woman from the pool yesterday. Blond. Tan. Mother to Chucky.
An all too familiar pang hits her heart. It makes sense. That’s the type of girl Nathaniel needs to be on vacation with. Pearls. Perfection. Mess free.
Because he is a perfect specimen of a man, while Ash is a weird globule to be stepped in on the sidewalk.
“No ring. Go talk to her,” Ash goads.
He lets out a dry laugh. Looks her way. “And become stepfather to Chucky? No thanks.”
Ash gives a cavalier shrug, ignoring the fire that burns in the pit of her stomach. “She looks like your type.”
Nathaniel’s face holds only a strange reflectiveness. His eyes are locked on her face. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
She blinks up at him, the thorns around her heart briefly vanishing at his words.
“C’mon.” He watches their van pull into its designated pickup spot. A lopsided smile tugs at his lips. “You don’t want to miss the bus, Bigfoot.”
And then he’s gone, headed toward the showers, leaving Ash with a soft smile on her face and an uneven beat in her heart.
His room’s quiet. Too quiet.
He and his family checked into their hotel on the Big Island earlier this afternoon. Royal Grace Resort is one of his grandfather’s triumphs. Floral, lush, and jewel toned. Tropical chic meets modern city.
After a day at the beach and then a winery tour, they’re all ready to call it an early night.
At ten o’clock, Nathaniel’s out on his balcony. Like the last hotel, he’s got a spectacular view of the ocean. Salty sea air. Above, the stars sparkle extra-bright against the inky sky. A lush tree canopy frames the sky. A slice of a silver moon. Despite the million-dollar view, annoyance beats through him. He doesn’t share this balcony with Ash and his grandfather. They’re on the floor below him.
It shouldn’t matter.
But he’s used to her sounds. Soft muttered curses. Banging. Talking to herself.
It’s sociopathic of him to be so attuned to her. But she’s a body on this trip. And an interesting one at that. Making that little kid cry today…
Nathaniel chuckles and stares into the dark.