For Better or Hearse

Chapter Four

N athaniel can spot disasters from a mile away. A damaged wellhead soon to leak oil. A patient saying I don’t feel well moments before they collapse. And this, this vacation, will be a disaster.

He should have known. When it comes to his family, nothing is ever easy.

Less than a day ago, he decided to take leave from his post as a remote-site doctor on an oil rig and join this so-called family vacation. Typically, he uses the four weeks off to travel the world. Surfing in Australia. Scuba diving in Belize. Family time isn’t his strong suit. Not with the Whitfords. Close confines with his prick father, his mother—who has looked like she’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown for years—his horny little brother and his attention-starved little sister? Just the thought is enough to make him itch.

And yet he came. He rallied.

For his grandfather.

A decision he already regrets. This whole situation is absurd.

This girl. Ash. What was his grandfather thinking, inviting her? She wreaked havoc on his world. Wrecked his fucking wedding. Sent his life into a spiral for a good year. He doesn’t know a damn thing about Ash whatever-the-hell-her-last-name is, but now that she’s inserted herself into his grandfather’s life, he plans to make it his mission to figure out what the hell she wants.

Either that or drop her on a desert island and leave her to the birds.

To her credit, she’s already a pain in his ass. It takes a lot to snap that thread of patience. Full moons and emergency room patients have nothing on this girl.

An hour in the car together, and his nerves are fried. The crunchy wrinkle of the granola bar. The tap-tap-tapping on her cell phone with those long black nails. Her ability to joke warmly with Augustus while simultaneously ignoring Nathaniel.

It pisses him off.

But now that he’s here, he can’t leave. All he can do is wait it out.

“We’re all checked in,” Nathaniel tells his grandfather as the driver pulls up to the curb of the hotel. “Delaney can’t get off set until Tuesday, so she’ll be here then.”

With a chuckle, Augustus pushes out of the back seat. “Delaney will be Delaney.”

Nathaniel climbs out quickly and grips his grandfather’s hand. His stomach pulls tight as the older man shuffles forward, gait unsteady. This isn’t the outcome he wanted. When Augustus was first diagnosed with cancer, Nathaniel flew to LA every weekend he could. Threw himself into finding him the best doctor, experimental treatments. He hoped for a miracle, because he’s not ready for his grandfather to go.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Nathaniel cranes his neck and homes in on Ash, who’s muttering fuck like it’s the lord’s prayer. As she leans forward to scoot out of the back seat, crumbs scatter from her lap. Still cursing, she flails, trying to capture the granola bar wrapper that’s being manhandled in the breeze. Her wild mass of black hair swirls like a cloud of doom. She looks up, catching him watching her, then scowls. Scowls some more.

“Shit.” She waves a hand in the air. The move causes her to drop her purse on the curb, where its contents scatter. Phone. Packets of lavender tea. A baggie of little peanut butter Ritz crackers. A pair of 3D glasses. “Go in. I’ll catch up.”

He sighs. She’s a fucking mess .

On their way inside the open-air lobby of the Rosalea Montage resort, Nathaniel takes in the familiar sight. He’s been to nearly all his grandfather’s hotels. As a child, he, along with the rest of his family, stayed for weeks during the summers. All Fox Hotels have the same immaculate vibes, décor, hospitality. The Rosalea Montage resort, perched at the edge of a seaside cliff, is no different. Decorated in colors of muted turquoise and cream, the fifteen-acre beachfront property screams luxury and elegance. Attracts a pampered and peaceful clientele from all over the world.

Beside Nathaniel, his grandfather stands taller than he has in a long time, his expression proud.

“Just like you remember?” he asks, a smile tugging at his mouth as he hands his grandfather his key card.

Augustus chuckles. “I remember you right there. You ate too much shave ice and puked in that planter.”

A warm fondness blooms in Nathaniel’s chest. “It wasn’t my finest moment.”

Augustus gives him a wry side-eye. “You sure you don’t want it?” he asks good-naturedly.

Nathaniel slings an arm around his shoulder. “Not at all, Grandpops.”

Unlike Nathaniel’s father, Augustus leaves it at that. No pushing for corporate takeover.

Nathaniel is content on the ocean.

Away from his family. Keeping a free life. He’ll never trap himself again.

For a second, he loses himself in the tranquility of his grandfather’s hotel. The crash of the ocean outside. The warm sun casting shadows through the eaves.

And then he hears it.

The sound of great, gigantic boot stomps.

Instantly, the peace of the hotel is shattered. The concierge frowns. The people in line at the check-in rubberneck their way.

Nathaniel bristles, instantly annoyed. Christ, that noise. No matter how many times he’s tried to acid wash his brain, he can’t get the sound of Ash storming through the church like some vengeful wraith out of his head.

Scowling, he turns. Across the glossy marble tile, her boot laces dance and dart.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

She’s oblivious. And she looks ridiculous. Like some gothic black cat of a girl. Oversized combat boots. Short black skirt, long-sleeved black bodysuit. Despite the absurd outfit, he can’t help tracing over the specks of color on her pale frame. Colorful tattoos cover her thighs. Flowers of all varieties. Higher up, a pop of a neon pink bra strap accentuates her fair skin. The kohl cat eye slashed atop her lids gives her a feral look. All that, combined with her violently blood-red lips and her doomsday cloud of jet-black hair, makes her look like she’s a dark harbinger of doom.

Again, what kind of name is Ash?

Her boot stomps silence as she stops beside Augustus, and the open space goes deafeningly quiet. Briefly, her gaze flicks to Nathaniel. A look equal parts intrigued and disinterested. Her big gray-green eyes and those long black lashes cause his stomach to flip. A sensation he could do the fuck without.

“Boots are untied, Bigfoot,” he barks in a hard tone.

The arch of her brow is cool. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and I’ll break my neck.”

He runs a hand down the front of his shirt. “Your commitment to your early death is impressive.”

“I am nothing if not an agent of chaos.” Done with him, Ash scans the lobby. “This is real, Augustus. Impeccable. Like chef’s kiss.”

Nathaniel rolls his eyes but holds his tongue. By the way his grandfather lights up, he’s clearly delighted by Ash’s compliment.

As Augustus goes on about his hotel’s amenities, the three of them make their way to the elevators that lead up to the tower suite. His grandfather’s reserved a block of rooms on the seventeenth floor. They all share a balcony that Augustus likely hopes will maximize family togetherness. Apparently, running into a family member unplanned and unannounced is what the man is aiming for.

All the doors to the rooms are closed. So much for the welcome wagon. Tate’s probably sleeping off a hangover, but Nathaniel doesn’t share that fun fact with his grandfather.

“Ash and I will stay here,” Augustus says, swiping the key card against the sensor.

He swings the door open, and they step into a generous two-bedroom suite. The living room is outfitted with woven throw pillows and a teakwood coffee table. In the corner of the room, across from the fully stocked minibar, rests a ukulele. Across the walls, framed vintage postcard prints of Hawaii. The luggage has already been delivered. The curtains have been opened to expose the balcony and highlight the spectacular views of Diamond Head.

Ash strolls into the room, brows lifted. “Holy shit,” she breathes. “Fuck yes, Augustus.” She pumps a fist, revealing a little white disc-shaped sensor on the back of her arm. “Slaying it again.”

“Take the bedroom with the best view, Ash,” Augustus calls in a jovial tone. “I’ve been here many times, my dear.”

Without argument, and with a great grunt, she heaves her suitcase onto the bed of the room she’s chosen. The minute she pops the latch, the luggage explodes. The bed is instantly peppered with big, dumb floppy hats and bottles of sunscreen. Itty bitty bikinis. Lacy underwear. Suddenly, Nathaniel is picturing her doing backstrokes in the resort pool. His gaze dips. Freezes on a toned thigh streaked with brilliant color and violence. A heart and a knife blooming in a bed of flowers.

Nope. This is not okay. Absolutely the fuck not.

Smearing a hand down his face, he clears his throat and moves to the center of the living room. Away from Ash. He needs a topic of conversation other than this strange woman’s underwear. “How are you feeling?” he asks his grandfather.

Augustus tsks, brows raised. “No cancer talk. ”

Nathaniel releases an impatient breath. “Grandpops—”

“You want to talk about it, we’ll talk. Over much whiskey. But I’d like to have fun on this vacation, and I expect that you’d prefer that too.”

It’s the way of his grandfather. Demands. Well-meaning demands, but demands, nonetheless.

He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Are you sure about this?”

Augustus leans, wearing a conspiratorial smirk. “Sure about what?”

His gaze flicks to Ash. Out on the balcony, leaning so far over the railing as she surveys the path down to the ground, he can’t be sure she doesn’t have some sort of death wish. The impractical urge to go to her, to move her away, runs through him like electricity.

“Are you sure about her ?” He can’t keep the bite out of his voice.

“I like Ash and all her fucks,” Augustus says with an adoring chuckle. “She tells it like it is. She’s macabre. She’s quirky. She’s—”

“Feral,” he finishes.

Augustus tuts. “She’s exactly what this family needs.”

Annoyance ripples through him. He doesn’t like it. This girl is a relentless force of chaos. Everything that can get under his skin and threaten his planned and orderly world. Worse, his grandfather is clearly enamored with her.

Augustus presses his lips together and glances at Ash for a moment. “She was in the wrong, doing what she did in the way that she did it, but tell me she was wrong , and I’ll send her home.”

It’s that wrong in his grandfather’s pointed tone that holds all the truths Nathaniel’s never admitted aloud.

A muscle flares in his jaw. He won’t. Can’t say it.

When Camellia called off the wedding, it wasn’t relief that hit him. It was a sensation more like being put out of his misery.

Still, that stubborn streak of anger runs through him. Anger at Ash. It’s not so much that she broke up the wedding. It’s that she had the fucking gall to do so. That in the eyes of Camellia and her family, he’s been branded something he’s not. That he still doesn’t fucking know who hired Ash to cause the chaos she did.

Augustus goes on, his expression earnest. “I know you have your reservations, but I want Ash here. Her presence fills me with a great deal of warmth.”

Fuck. Begrudging his grandfather this is something he’d never do. Not when he’s been looking forward to this vacation. Not when he clearly enjoys the girl.

And yet…

He can’t stop from voicing his concern. “Grandpops, what if she’s some sort of con artist?”

A husky voice pipes up, making his stomach lurch. “Con artist?”

Ash and her cloud of hair slink around the corner. Her stare is stony as she takes a step forward.

“I may be a lot of things. Ill-reputed. Disheveled. A Scorpio. But I’m no con artist.” For a split second, she looks genuinely hurt.

Nathaniel wonders if it’s all an act. “That’s up for debate,” he argues.

His grandfather narrows his eyes on him, then turns his attention to Ash, his mind clearly spinning. Of course it is. This is the man who bought Delaney a pony on her tenth birthday, all because their father forbade pets. It’s in his blood to meddle.

Brows cinched, Augustus squeezes Ash’s arm, then Nathaniel’s. “Get along or don’t. Either way, we’re meeting for dinner at seven. I’ve booked a table at the restaurant.” He hobbles toward the bedroom, grumbling as he does so. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to pop out for a minute.”

With an affectionate smile, Ash watches as Augustus departs. “That man’s red flag is if he says he’s going to ‘pop out for a minute,’ it means he’s going to take a nap.”

Nathaniel bristles. It irritates him that she knows his grandfather so well .

Ash turns to Nathaniel. She looks him up and down. Scrunches her face up in a way that could be misconstrued as adorable. “Let me guess. You unpack your suitcase the second you get home from vacation.”

“And you’re an off-putting person who likes the sight of murder.”

She crosses her arms, lets out a purr of agreement. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

“I’m impressed,” he says. “You went from weddings to hearses. Times must be tough.”

She colors. “It wasn’t my finest moment, okay?” She chews her lip, then shakes her head like she’s already regretting her decision to speak to him. “Listen, Nate—”

“Nathaniel.”

“Fine. Nathaniel .” Even the way she draws out his name, in husky, honeyed, ice-cold syllables, grates on him. “I understand why you’re pissed at me, but do you think we can maybe co-exist? If not peacefully, at least not maliciously? For Augustus?”

“Of course,” he grits out, annoyance simmering in his veins. “I won’t even know you’re here.”

A relieved sigh pops out of her mouth. “Good.”

Nathaniel asks, “What did you say your last name was again?”

“I didn’t. Keller.” She digs her fingers into her biceps. “Why? Planning to do some reconnaissance?”

“I might.” He adjusts his rolled shirtsleeves. “Wouldn’t want you to screw my grandfather over.”

Gaze narrowed, she steps close to him. So close her breasts sweep against his chest. Hurt flashes in her green-gray eyes, her voice as cold as an icy wind. “I would never do that.”

“I’ll be on you,” he warns. He takes a step back. The burning touch of her lingers. “The entire trip.”

She cocks a brow. “Like a barnacle.”

“See you at dinner, Bigfoot,” he says dryly. Before he goes, he takes a second to revel in the brief flash of panic that crosses her face. God knows he could spar for hours with her, but she’s not worth it.

At least he finds a modicum of comfort in the knowledge that she has to meet his family. He can’t wait to see the shitshow that is tonight.

For the next two weeks, he plans to do to Ash what she’s done to him.

Make her life a living hell.