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“Yes, but it’ll happen again.”
“Who says I want it to happen again?” he says, tone dark.
Ash cranes to catch a glimpse of him through the trees. Shoulders tight, he paces.
Claire’s voice oozes disappointment. “That’s not true.”
A long sigh. “I’m just trying to get through this trip, figure out this job situation.”
“Are you sure it’s what you want?”
“I don’t know, Mom.” From his pocket, the buzz of a phone. “I have to take this.” Palm fronds crunch. He’s on the move.
Fuck.
Ash turns, scrambling over her boots to break into a run. The last thing she wants to do is get caught eavesdropping.
It’s not until she breaks through the grove of palm trees that she releases the breath she’s been holding. The dark tone inNathaniel’s words weighs heavy on her. The fickle beast of guilt whispers in her ear.
You did that. You.
She shuts her eyes, absorbs the pain.
Then she slogs her way up to the small shack. Outside the building, an employee has set out coconuts, wooden bowls and various tools that look like instruments of death.
She looks over one shoulder, then the other. The rest of the Whitfords are hovering by the SUV, on their phones, like one second of enjoyment will rot their robot-like shells. Hell, she is here in paradise, on Augustus’s dime. She’s not missing a minute.
She sits at a picnic table, relishing the shade thanks to the frond-covered eave above.
An employee approaches with a tray of coconut water and coconut meat. With a thanks, Ash asks about the coconut craft. The young woman gives her instructions on how to harvest her own coconut meat. Points at a machete.
“Really?” Ash asks, a zap of delight sparking through her.
“Really, ma’am.” The employee brings her hand down in a sharp, swift cutting motion. “You hack it.”
Ash lifts a brow. “Impressive.”
When the employee disappears into the shack, Ash reaches for the handle of the machete.
“Might need a waiver,” a low voice says, the sound sending a shiver up her spine.
Ash cuts him a glare. Ignores her body’s traitorous response. “I am very experienced in the art of cleaving.”
Nathaniel strides up to her, one big hand clenched around his phone. He’s dressed like a sexy grandpa from the ’60s. That swirl of wheat-gold hair. The trousers. The tight black T-shirt that screamsI am riddled with abs and biceps!
Her blood churns. In rage. In indignation. In attraction.What?
No.
Never.
Her heart stops as he brings his long, tan fingers closer. Carefully, he plucks at her hair and comes away with a piece of palm. She flushes.
He eyes it, then lets it flutter to the dirt between them. “And clearly the art of eavesdropping as well.”
Smug bastard.
“How was your call from Lucifer?” Ash croons. “Did you receive instructions on how to proceed with the devastation of humanity?”
