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“There’s nothing plain about you.”
“Careful.” The sly arch of her eyebrow. Her curious attention sweeps over him, her green-gray gaze glittering in the sun. Like fog after a summer rain. “It almost sounds like you’re admitting I’minteresting.”
A shrug, even as he internally berates himself for his comment. “You call it interesting. I call it predictable.”
She swirls a finger. “How so?” The smoky purr of her voice has his cock flexing.
“If I had to guess, I’d say your favorite color is black and your favorite holiday is Halloween.”
“You forgot something.”
“What’s that?”
“I drink the blood of little children by candlelight.”
He chuckles, enjoying himself. And that’s when he remembers he’s fraternizing with the enemy. The woman who destroyed his life. The thought shoves his mind, his emotions, back three years.
“Another question then.” He grinds his teeth, soaking in the echo of that pain. “Who paid you? To interrupt my wedding.”
Her body locks up. She stops, and the humor in her expression vanishes. “We’re still on that?”
The way her eyes shutter has anger simmering in him. She’s already remembering what she thinks she knows about him.
Ash studies him intently. “You have psychopath eyes, you know.”
He lets out a sound of frustration. “Probably because I want to murder you.”
She watches him, lip caught between her teeth. The strap of her tank top has slipped down. Instead of making her look reckless or messy, she looks vulnerable and soft. It pisses him off.
“C’mon, let’s go,” he barks. He’s done with this game.
Another fifty-four steps, silence, and two tunnels later, they make it to the top of the Diamond Head Observation Station. A clear day, the view stretches on forever. Beneath them, the Honolulu sea front. Navy-blue waves lap at the shore. Nothing but sun, sky and surf.
“The lighthouse,” Ash breathes, sounding awed, as she draws up beside him. She points at the base of Diamond Head, where a white lighthouse stands. “There it is.”
“What do you like about lighthouses?”
Fuck his life. The questions keep coming.
“They’re mysterious.” Her cheeks are red. The wind whips her hair, and she fights to control it. “Imagine saying you live in a lighthouse. Life goals unlocked.”
Nathaniel angles his head. Says nothing.
Ash lifts her phone, side-eyes him. “No pictures?”
He crosses his arms. “No.”
“Wow.” She purses her lips. “You can even suck the joy out of a photo. Fascinating.”
With that, she snaps her photo and walks off.
Rolling out his shoulders to release the Ash-induced irritation built up there, Nathaniel shucks his pack. He stretches and drinks from a bottle of water. Checks his phone. There’s a text from his mother that says she and his grandfather called it quits at the second set of stairs.
Pack secured once more, Nathaniel studies the map as he elbows his way through the photo-snapping crowd. In his periphery, Ash is holding her phone up to the sky like she’s trying to signal the aliens to take her back to her home planet.
The game was clever and chaotic; he’ll give her that. But it unraveled before it even got started. His fault. He brought up the wedding, instantly fueling the animosity between them. Maybe it’s not Ash he’s pissed at. Maybe it’s himself. Because it still bothers him. Not because he still loves Camellia, but because he has an innate need for closure.
And he refuses to let his grandfather’s pain-in-the-ass death doula get under his skin. Thirteen more days, and he’s free of her.
