For Better or Hearse

Chapter Thirty-Two

“H ow are you feeling?” Ash asks.

Tessie sits in bed, hands on her bump, propped up by no less than ten throw pillows. No doubt Solomon’s doing.

“I’m on bed rest. And Solomon is activating the absolutely most insane protector mode.” Tessie sounds unhappy.

Ash snorts. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was pacing outside the bedroom right now.

“He’s just worried. We all are.” She doesn’t think her heart rate has come down since last night.

“I’ll be fine.” Tessie rubs her stomach, brow wrinkled, as she settles back into the pillows. “We’ll both be fine.”

Ash tosses a handful of granola bars and energy chews into her backpacking bag, then makes a sudden decision. “That’s it. I’m coming to Alaska.”

Tessie gasps and pushes herself up higher in the bed with one arm. “You will not.” Before she can argue, Tessie continues, “I will have Solomon escort you from the airport.”

“Good luck,” Ash shoots back. She snatches up her suitcase. “You forget I took jujitsu in third grade. My arm bars are nothing to scoff at.”

“Put the bag down.” As Ash paces, Tessie tracks her movement with watery brown eyes. “Stop and listen to me. If you don’t, I will go into labor so I can travel and kick your ass.”

An icy pang of guilt threads through her. She feels like shit for not being there. For putting off that phone call, those texts. All because she was distracted by a man. She closes her eyes. It could have been worse. So much worse .

Slowly, she sets the bag down. She doesn’t trust that fate won’t let Tessie follow through on her plan. “I need to be there. I need to be there for you and little Delilah—”

A giant scoff. “Absolutely not.”

“You can never die.” She swipes at her eyes, the stupid moisture that’s decided to make an appearance. “I only have one of you, and if I’m there, the universe might throw me a bone and right whatever fucked-up nonsense they’re planning.”

“I know you want to be here for me, but you can’t be.” Tessie smiles sadly. “There will always be a just-in-case. There will always be tragedies. And there will always be you and me. You are my six-inch stiletto. I will always need you. But you can’t put your life on hold to take care of me. It’s your life, Ash. You have to live it.”

“I don’t know how,” she admits.

The tarot reading, the trip, her past, Nathaniel. It’s chasing her down, popping up when she least expects it. Like evidence at a crime scene. She’s been trying to hide it before it convicts her.

“Your heart is so soft, Ash, and you hide it away from those who want it.” Tessie’s voice wobbles. “I’m not the only one who deserves your heart.”

“But…” She licks her lips. Trails off.

“You need to stay,” her cousin urges gently. “For Augustus. For Nathaniel. To see where it goes.”

“There is no seeing where it goes. It just…goes. When we leave, whatever is between us will be over.”

Tessie arches a brow. “So there is a whatever.”

Ash groans. “No. It’s just sex.”

She guffaws. “Last time I had just-sex, I married the guy.” Tessie’s face turns serious as she regards Ash. “Stay, okay?”

Ash thinks back to last night. Her hands twisted in Nathaniel’s shirt, her heart hammering against her rib cage as the word dripped off her lips, thick as honey. Stay .

“Okay,” she says, even as she knows her heart has already made its decision. Now it’s her brain that has to fall in line. “I will.”

Ash, shouldering her pack, makes her way out onto the deck of the ocean catamaran. Being stuck on a boat with eighty random people is a nightmare, but here she is. A private excursion and a private guide for the Whitfords and four other families from the hotel. A private beach where they can explore and day drink.

The quarters are tight and chaotic. With so many people on board, it’s hard to pick out her party. But finally, she spies Augustus, Tate and Delaney curled up in a corner of the boat, practicing lines from Delaney’s script. “Grandpops,” Delaney squeals. “You’re a natural.”

“With a gravitas that suits Brando,” he says, chest puffed out with pride.

As she comes to the front of the boat, she stops.

Nathaniel. He stands at the bow, gazing out over the ocean.

The sight of him knocks the wind out of her.

In the glow of the golden morning light, that strong, stern jaw is accentuated. It’s made even sexier by the stubble he’s let grow the last few days.

Handsome. He’s so handsome. So calming. He is like the best soft sweater on a rainy day.

Ash’s lips turn up and her stomach flips.

That heart in her chest.

It’s slipping away.

Last night, she let him see the most private, sad parts of her. And it didn’t feel so bad. It felt…beautiful, actually.

He made her feel safe. Understood. Heard.

Nathaniel Whitford likes the weird. Her weird. The good and the bad about her. The thought causes her heart to lurch so violently she places a hand to her chest.

After Jakob, she believed she’d never have anyone else. Find anyone who truly saw her. She never thought she’d want to try again .

And maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she just wants it with Nathaniel. Maybe he is that little invisible string, that universal gotcha, that man she never saw coming.

“Voyeurism isn’t your strong suit, Bigfoot.”

She scowls. He’s caught her in the act of lurking.

But then he turns. A lopsided grin splits his lips. Her heart turns to a firefly in her chest. All warm and glowing and hopeful.

Behind him, the sky is indigo and without clouds. It stretches the horizon. Endless. It’s how Ash feels. How she feels about Nathaniel.

She could go on and on and on.

“Secretly ogling you is my new kink,” she says. “You just have to deal with it.”

“Fair enough. How’s Tessie?” he asks, his eyes full of genuine concern.

Ash strides toward him. “She is being bossed around by a very brawny mountain man, so I think she’s in the mid-to-late stages of being frustratingly horny.”

He chuckles. Traces the strap of her bikini with those long fingers. Heating her. “Glad to hear it.”

She tips her face up. Grasps the front of his shirt. Holding tight. “I almost flew to Alaska,” she admits.

His throat works, over and over. Then he says, “I would have fueled up the jet.”

Her entire body sparks with warmth. Nathaniel’s willingness to move mountains to make sure she could get back to her best friend has Ash melting. If she thought her heart had cracked before, now it’s wide open.

Nathaniel pulls her against him. Their hearts hammer in sync. “I’m glad you didn’t go.” He chuckles, then lets out a relieved sigh. “You’re the best thing on this trip. I would have missed you.”

“I would have missed you too.” She wants to be angry with herself for this lapse, for this softness, but it’s impossible. It’s getting easier. To drop her guard. To say what she means .

Eyes turning molten, he angles her toward his mouth. Kisses her. Ash rakes her fingers through his disheveled hair and drinks him in.

He tastes like coffee and sunlight and the sea. He runs his tongue over hers, and his enormous paw of a hand skims the curve of her hip. Ash moans. God, just the man’s hand is an entire love language.

When they untangle, he wraps his arms around her. For a long moment, they’re quiet, watching the horizon.

“You know,” she says. “When I was younger, I was sure I’d have to worry a lot more about the Bermuda triangle and Atlantis.”

“The ’90s let down a whole generation,” he says.

She leans forward over the railing, squinting at the ocean beneath them. Her heart bottoms out when Nathaniel grasps the waistband of her shorts. Steadying her. Protecting her.

“You still owe me a coconut, you know.”

He snorts. “I’ll make it my life’s purpose.” Lifting his free hand, he points. In the distance is an island. “There,” he says, kissing her brow.

When the catamaran docks, they all disembark and drop their packs and belongings on the sand. The manmade island is full of lush tropical vegetation and white sand. A cheesy wooden sign that reads THE BEACH IS CALLING has been hammered into the ground. Beach chairs, umbrellas, and coolers of water and beer line the sand in rows.

Brad, their guide, steps up and hands out maps and beers to each one of them. In each beer’s mouth is an umbrella. “All right, everyone,” Brad says, enthusiastically clapping his hands. His head piece fills with feedback.

Ash winces.

“We have some fun excursions planned for today,” he continues. “Take a look at your beer bottle. Anyone with a purple umbrella is going bird-watching with Amanda. Yellow, you’ll be with me, and I’ll be showcasing the botany of the island. ”

Ash clutches Nathaniel’s arm. Her umbrella is purple; Nathaniel’s yellow. Panic lances through her stomach. “Wait, what the fuck?”

It’s worse than she thought. They’re being split up. Into groups. Into activities. Into group activities.

Nathaniel’s gloomy expression matches hers.

Into his ear, she whispers, “Can that tsunami take me now?”

He catches her gaze for a moment, that lush mouth of his fighting a smile, and a warm rush of familiarity passes between them.

“Or better yet,” Ash replies, “let it take Brad.”

That garners a dirty look from the woman to her right. She holds a finger to her lips, and Ash rolls her eyes.

Brad lifts his hands in the air. “And when we return, we’ll have an island lunch. Coconut shrimp. Rice and beans. Ice cold beer.”

Cheers go up in the group.

“Fuck this,” Nathaniel growls when Brad launches into island do s and don’t s. He grabs a towel from the sand. Snags her hand. “I’m not spending this day without you. C’mon. You want a coconut. Let’s go look.”

A thrill of adrenaline zips through her. He’s right. They only have two days left. And spending the majority of this one without Nathaniel is absolutely not happening.

“Wait. My pack,” she hisses. Sneaking forward, keeping low in the crowd, Ash grabs her pack from the jumble of bags piled on the sand.

Then, together, they melt into the tropical jungle. The sun’s heat fades away beneath the canopy of trees. Nathaniel, map in his hands, leads them up wet, winding paths. Thirty minutes into their great escape, they hear it. The rush of water.

Hand in hand, they cross a small stream. When they push through dangling vines and palm fronds, numerous lagoons and a waterfall greet them .

With a laugh, Ash claps her hands. “Magellan would be proud.”

Nathaniel tears off his shirt, pulling a small hum of approval from Ash.

“And I am now horny.”

“Do I need to fight Magellan?” Nathaniel asks, grinning. “For history’s sake.”

Smiling, she surveys the beauty of the lagoon. Even with ample shade, it’s hot, making the water that much more tempting.

“You want to swim?” he asks.

Ash nods, slips off her cut-offs. “Mm-hmm.” She sticks her shorts and her insulin pen beneath her pack to keep them out of the sun.

“Here.” Nathaniel crouches and unzips his bag. He brings out a packet of clear adhesive patches and stands. “Let’s try this for your sensor. It should keep the water out so it doesn’t get loose.”

She bites her lip, stares up at him wordlessly as her heart swells. Every little thing he does stuns her. If she could absorb his handsome face, his kind heart into her bones, she would.

Nathaniel frowns in doctor-like concentration as he adjusts the patch on her arm. Gently, he smooths his fingers over the material to help it adhere.

“There,” he murmurs. “That should do it.”

She clears her throat. Checks out her sensor. “Looks good, Doctor Whitford.”

When she goes to move away, he snags her arm.

“Ash.”

Heart thundering, she looks up into his face.

All day, he’s looked as on edge as she’s felt. Utterly and completely undone.

“I’m going to die if I don’t touch you,” he rasps.

The raw edge to his voice has her breath whooshing out of her.

“So dramatic,” she teases, laying a hand on his muscled chest. Beneath her palm, the echo of his heart .

Eyes blazing, he draws her into him. He palms her sacrum, that smooth expanse of skin above the lush curve of her ass.

Then his mouth meets hers, and the world stops.

His lips melt against hers, like a sugar dissolving, a sugar she can’t get enough of, a sugar that’s good for her, never bad.

Nathaniel.

Ash twines her arms around his neck, twists herself ever closer. Like trees that grow, that fuse together.

Breaking their kiss, they move. Wordlessly, Nathaniel spreads a towel on the beach of the lagoon. Lays Ash down. He drags his calloused fingers over her breasts, her hips, between her thighs. Good. She’s never felt so damn good.

“Fuck,” she whispers.

He kisses the base of her throat. “I love this bikini,” he husks almost reverently. “Yellow’s my new favorite color.”

She rakes her nails through his hair, down his back. Enjoys the growl of approval he makes. Slowly, her top is peeled off her. Her nipples pucker in the clammy air.

Nathaniel takes her breast in his mouth. Warm. Heated. Hungry. She moans. Next, he removes her bikini bottoms. Licks up her thigh, the arousal that’s built there.

As he comes back to her, he hovers over her. The hard weight of his body a grounding calm. His kiss delicate against her cheek, his whisper in her ear. “I love your hair.”

His trembling fingers run over her scalp, firing every nerve ending. Unraveling her.

He draws back, drinking her in. “I love—” A hard breath rattles out of him. “I love everything about you, Ash.”

She’s smiling so big and dumb, but she can’t help herself. The scent, the closeness of him, travels down her body and into her heart. She pushes his board shorts past his hips. She’s desperate to have him inside her. Desperate for him to fill her.

“You’re perfect,” Nathaniel whispers against her skin. “You’re perfect for me. ”

His eyes meet hers. And then he sinks inside her body.

Ash gasps. So good. So fucking right. Their bodies like ley lines. Connected. Moving toward one another in a course bound for the heart.

“I could stay like this forever,” he rasps. “With you.” He grazes her throat, brushes a hand over her veins, her pulse, her skin. “My morbid little beauty.”

She swallows back the emotion crashing inside her. “Me too,” she whispers. “Me too, me too.”

Silence falls. Nathaniel moves inside her, his breath warm and pulsing. He grips her neck, brings her mouth to where he wants her. She lets him. Own her. She’s never wanted anything more.

“Ash.” At the plea, she palms his face, rakes a hand through his hair.

His voice like velvet. His hands like silk. Nathaniel surges deeper. Thrusts.

The sex isn’t frantic or wild or rushed. It’s slow. Claiming. Meant to be.

Just like them.

Ash cries out to the sky. Her lashes flutter as the hearts between them pound in sync.

There’s that bloom in her chest again.

That bright bloom she can no longer ignore.