Page 70 of For Better or Hearse
The sharp alarm, the urgency, kicks his adrenaline into overdrive. The masses are on their feet. Many are wading out of the ocean. Now choppy and wild, waves crash onto shore. Ominous clouds are rolling in quickly. A man in flamingo swim trunks helps a pregnant woman to shore.
Nathaniel stops a lifeguard who’s hurrying by, scanning the water. “What’s going on?”
“Riptide rolled in,” the man says, lifting his whistle once more to his mouth. “We have to get everyone out of the water.”
Augustus is suddenly beside him, his face etched with concern. He grips Nathaniel’s shoulder. “Where’s Delaney? Ash?”
Ash.
Swallowing the burn in his throat, the panic, he scans the beach. Where is she? Even wading in knee-deep water can be a death sentence with a riptide.
Frantically searching the shore, he sees her sandals.
Alarm speeds through Nathaniel’s senses. Those overpriced spikes of doom sit on the sand just waiting for someone to step on. Without Ash.
The blood drains from his face.
“Stay here,” he tells his grandfather. Then he’s running, racing down to shore. Elbowing his way through the rushing crowd, his heartbeat jackhammers in his ears. He plows into a person scurrying past. Without bothering to apologize, he moves the woman roughly aside.
Where is she?
Helplessness twists at his gut. Frantically, Nathaniel whips his head left and right. Trying to pick out a teeny, tiny yellow bikini has never been more frustrating.
And then his heart stops. Sound ceases to exist.
Christ. What if she’s in the ocean? Of course she’s in the ocean. Because it’s Ash. Carefree and careless. And always primed to give him a heart attack.
He vaults over a towel, a beach bag. Finally, he finds himself at the edge of the shore. He’s hurling himself forward, ready to go in, when a hand wraps around his bicep and he’s yanked to a stop.
“Are you an idiot? What are you doing?”
Chest heaving, he whips around. Every muscle in his body is strung tight.
Ash is there, wide-eyed, staring up at him. Water sluices down her frame, her long black hair hanging over one shoulder. Tamed for once.
“I couldn’t find you,” he rasps.
The instinct she triggers in him is primal. He reaches out, slides his arms around her slender waist to pull her to him. The moment she’s in his arms, his tension ebbs.
His heart pounds, on fire, as he takes her in. Soft, dewy skin. A hint of a sunburn on the tops of her shoulders. Her pretty face a mix of amusement and confusion.
“Are you okay?” Fuck. Somehow his hand has attached itself to her cheek. Cupping it like it’ll help him feel better. “You’re not hurt?”
The look she gives him is incredulous. A rosy flush spreads across her cheeks. Her eyes darken, long lashes fluttering. “I was in the bathroom, you Tall Asshole.” Despite her words, her tone is soft.
She’s still in his arms. He pulls her closer. Reassurance she’s okay. Reassurance he didn’t know he needed.
The exhale he lets out shakes them both. “Thank—”
Nathaniel’s words are cut off as he’s shoved roughly back and away from Ash.
“Thanks a lot, Lancelot. I could have been dying, and you just bulldozed me out of the way.” Delaney’s eyes flash fire, her hands propped dramatically on her hips. “You don’t even think to look for your little sister when there’s practically a tsunami on the beach? What were you doing?”
His mouth works. No words come out. That calm, decisive cool he’s perfected in the ER is gone. He’s too muddled to respond, a volatile, overreacting mess.
Ash smothers a smile and wiggles her fingers. Slipping her feet into her sandals, she takes one more careful glance over her shoulder at him. Then she runs up the beach to Augustus’s outstretched arms.
As the sound of the ocean crashing against the beach rushes back to his ears, bone-deep awareness hits him like a brick.