For Better or Hearse

Chapter Eight

“T his is incredibly, most definitely, worse.”

The sound of Ash’s smoky voice sets Nathaniel on edge.

Together, the two of them stare up at the chalkboard sign on the beach that proclaims: Get Fishy With It Snorkel.

The name is ridiculous.

He crosses his arms. Lifts a brow at the woman beside him. “What’s wrong? Can’t swim?”

The second he asks it, he internally groans. Why is it he can’t go more than thirty minutes without getting drawn into a conversation with her? He’s curious about her, even if he doesn’t want to be.

She’s mean and chaotic and an infinite pain in his ass.

“Oh, I can swim.” She pulls her phone out of her woven beach bag. “I just prefer to bob on the water with a beer as opposed to sleeping with the fishes.”

“Swimming.”

She cocks a brow. “That’s what you think.”

An instructor steps up, dropping mesh bags full of snorkel gear on the sand. On his other side, his mother and Tate. Both look more interested in the buckets of chum than the snorkel instructions. His father went back to the hotel, while Augustus rests in a chair on the beach. Through the entire lecture, Ash taps on her phone.

When they’re finished, he tilts closer to her. “Did you get all that?”

The slice of her eyebrow arch could cut. “Ugh, deciding to talk to you was the mistake of my life. ”

With that, Ash stalks away from him. Cold shoulder at the ready.

A muscle jerks in Nathaniel’s jaw. She doesn’t want to talk to him. Fine. It’s not his fault she’s chaos waiting to happen.

Yes, he’d protected her fingers when she was wielding that machete. The possibility of her hacking her fucking arm off had his heart gearing up for a widowmaker. But that doesn’t mean he likes Ash Keller. He just prefers this vacation to have as little drama as possible.

Ahead, she slips her shorts off. The move has his body locking up. He can’t help it. His attention is set on her tattooed thighs. Fuck. The one-piece black swimsuit she wears should be modest and boring. Instead, it clings to her lush curves, her soft breasts. Turns him into a teenager all over again.

And he’s not the only asshole watching her. Every single man on the beach—except for Augustus—stares.

Brazen fucks.

Shaking his head, he looks away, toward the water. He could use an ice-cold dousing right now.

Curses drift on the breeze.

Nathaniel focuses on Ash again.

Irritation, amusement prickle him as he watches her upturn the bag of gear. She’s like a cat, slowly nudging an object to see what it’s all about. Flippers, goggles, life jackets. Gingerly, she picks up a life jacket. Anchors it around her waist.

He sighs, needles his brow. It’s upside down.

She’ll never survive the day.

“Let me,” he says, crossing the sand toward her.

Ash regards him, eyes swimming with suspicion, holding the life jacket to her chest. “Why? So you can sabotage me and I’ll plunge to a watery grave?”

“If I wanted to kill you, that’s not the way I’d do it.”

Her sharp brow arches. “I’m intrigued.”

“I’m certified.” He takes the jacket from her, pissed that she doesn’t trust him. Pissed that she’d blindly launch into an activity without thinking it through. It’s insanely irresponsible. The ocean’s dangerous. Just like those damn boots she wears. Death traps. “On the rig, you have to be certified in scuba.”

“Ah, an expert in everything. Why am I not surprised?”

He closes his eyes briefly, exasperated. “Three in the morning, out on the rig, someone gets hurt, has a heart attack, falls in, I have to go in after them. It’s a basic requirement of the job.”

When her only response is a quiet scrutinizing look, he slips the life jacket over her slender shoulders. “If you were listening, you’d know it’s a buddy system.”

Sharpening the knife of her voice, she says, “I’m not your partner.” She stands on tiptoes, craning to see behind him, bringing her breasts a hairsbreadth from his chest. “What about Tater?”

He bristles, irritation pricking at the back of his neck. “Tate will get two feet down before he panics and flails.” He tightens her life vest. Extra-tight.

Ash, to his satisfaction, gasps a pained breath.

“Might even take you with him. So either you buddy up with me, or you go sit your ass on the beach. Those are the rules.”

Ash glowers at him in utter disdain. “I’d rather have bamboo sticks shoved under my fingernails than spend this vacation with you.” Her husky voice gives his dick a little nudge of encouragement.

He drops his hands, ignoring the electricity that sparks when his fingertips skim against her soft skin. “That makes two of us.”

Scowling at him full blaze, she turns on her heel in the sand and stomps toward the water.

He grinds his jaw as he goes to follow. Immediately, his mouth goes dry. Deepest fantasies unlocked. Still, he keeps breathing. Walking. It’s all he can do.

Two thin stripes run up the backs of her calves all the way to the tops of her thighs. Like the seams on pinup stockings topped with little bows.

Nathaniel scrubs a hand through his hair. Christ. She just walks around with those out for anyone to see? It’s getting ridiculous.

It’s the sexiest goddamn thing he’s ever seen.

It’s also the moment he knows he’s fucked.

A violent ringing sounds out across the beach.

Wide-eyed, Ash turns and races back toward him. She crouches over her towel, pulls her phone from her bag, silences it. “Shit.” Attention fixed on her phone, she waves a dismissive hand at him. “Go find another buddy. I’m out.”

“Everything okay?”

Why does he even care? Doctor instinct. That has to be it. That and nothing else.

Her smile is brittle, forced. “My blood’s just…fucked up.”

He scans her pale face. “Your blood sugar’s high.”

“Yeah. Just when I think I’ve got the hang of this thing…” With a groan, she plops onto the towel. Waves again. “Go. I’m a big girl. I’ll be okay.”

The desire to stay with her hits him like a hammer, but he says nothing. Only moves on toward the beach. He and Ash Keller don’t mix.

Still.

He can’t help but glance over his shoulder at Ash. Catches her as she gives herself an injection in the thigh, right in the middle of a beautiful blooming iris.