Chapter Twenty-One
T he dive bar is loud and sticky. It’s an on-the-side-of-the-road hole-in-the-wall box of a bar. Nestled in palm fronds and backdropped by thick, tropical jungle. Augustus wanted to see a local side of the Big Island, so she and Nathaniel offered to take him into town.
Being stuck with Nathaniel isn’t so bad. After what happened between them last night, it’s easy to convince herself that they got it out of their systems. That there won’t be another time, when in fact, she’s already thinking about it.
And it scares her.
Desperately.
The sex was too good. Too right. Their bodies fit. They fucked hard, into oblivion. Nathaniel never treated her like she was fragile. Waited for her to check her blood sugar without any annoyed sighs like Jakob used to make.
Her stomach flips over. He cares. And he’s showing that to her. Has ever since she met him. She just refused to see it until now. Bringing her that juice on their first day in Hawaii. Today, his pack stuffed with granola bars and glucose gels and her favorite snack. For her. Never limiting her or wondering if she should slow down. He’s been beside her every step of the way. As a doctor, he understands her condition. As Nathaniel Whitford, he sees that her diabetes is just a piece of her.
It means a lot.
It means everything.
Ash, Augustus and Nathaniel claim a picnic table beneath the lanai. Stretched out in front of them, the Pacific. The crash of the waves competes with the sound of the live band playing classic rock and ’80s throwbacks.
Here, Ash feels at home. While she’s enjoying the lavish hotels and opulence, this bar is more her vibe. Relaxed, unfettered, chaotic. A mix of tourists and regulars crowd the space.
Nathaniel sits across from her. He wears the sun, paradise like a second skin. Like it’s made for him. Breeze-ruffled hair. Handsome. So damn handsome. Ash catches herself sneaking peeks at him. Then curses her lack of self-control.
A week and a half. Get through it. Kiss the sexy doctor. Go home. Forget about him.
Easy.
Messy.
She should feel confused. Should feel guilt. But she doesn’t. Life is a short series of commas, and if you’re lucky, an exclamation point, and then you die. So yes, she will fuck Nathaniel Whitford. Happily.
Ash groans when she reads over the sticky menu. Laughing, she brings her hands to her face. “This is the worst city to be diabetic in. Mai tais and pi?a coladas and margaritas. My blood would explode with one drink.”
Augustus peers her way, curious. “What if you had one?”
“I could, and correct it now, but it’ll inevitably get fucked up later.”
“What’s later?” A smug smile toys at the edges of Nathaniel’s lips.
She glares at him.
Damn this man.
She’s saved by the server. They order drinks and homemade crispy gau gee.
“Now you,” Ash says to Augustus. Reaching across the table, she covers his hand. “You have a good reason. All the last drinks.”
“Until I can’t.” Nostalgia flickers through his pale-blue eyes. “ I’ll never forget that glass of red wine on my wedding day. Or the scotch I had the summer of ’79.”
Nathaniel smiles like he’s heard this story before. “Is that when you were in Scotland?”
“I’m thinking maybe it was an Oban. No.” Augustus taps the table like he’s sending an SOS signal to his memories. “It was a Bruichladdich. Rosalea and I were on a yacht in the Irish Sea. We drank half a bottle, and when we woke up, we found a couple of common gulls had made a nest of our towels.”
Chuckling, Nathaniel pats his grandfather on the back.
Ash’s breath hitches at the sight.
Ugh. Why does he have to be just as wonderful as his grandfather?
“Nathaniel,” Augustus says, picking up the beer that’s just been delivered. “I’d like to talk to you about my last wishes.” He nods at Ash. “You too.”
Nathaniel grimaces, shifts in his seat. “Grandpops.”
“Ten minutes, we talk business, and then we have fun,” he says.
Nathaniel stares down into his beer, his jaw flexing. Pain creases his expression.
It’s automatic. The need to comfort him.
“It’s okay,” Ash says softly. Heartbeat accelerating, she covers his hand with hers.
He glances down at it, then up at her. Stunned. And then his entire body unclenches.
If Augustus notices, he says nothing.
“Okay.” Nathaniel rubs the side of his jaw as his face fades to a gentler expression. Inhaling a deep breath, he focuses all his attention on Augustus. “I’m here, Grandpops. You tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
He’s all stern business now, which makes him even sexier to Ash. Even with the grief in his eyes, she sees why he’s a great doctor. Compassionate, caring, even with the cold front. If she wasn’t melting before, she is now .
For the next fifteen minutes, Augustus details how Claire and Nathaniel are to be executors of the will. He goes over his plans for cremation and a ceremony that is already bought and paid for. They drink their drinks. Nathaniel inhales his first beer in five seconds flat, like he needs to numb the pain but nods along to every word his grandfather says.
As he talks, Ash fights off a wave of emotion. The vivid, chaotic noises of the bar don’t mesh with the somber conversation. And still, the vibes are warm. Like she’s wrapped in a calm embrace. So grateful that Nathaniel is here beside her.
They talk and drink all night. Happy memories. Nostalgia is king: Augustus’s childhood. Vegas and mobsters. Hotels and starlets.
It’s a night she’ll remember long after Augustus is gone.
Finally, when the band is blasting its way through a cover of a Deep Purple song, Augustus excuses himself to use the bathroom. Ash tracks his stuttering footsteps, and when she glances over, she finds Nathaniel is doing the same.
Nathaniel checks his dive watch. Lifts those stern brows of his. “It’s late.”
“Shit,” she swears. So absorbed in Augustus’s stories, she never noticed the time. “He’ll be tired tomorrow.”
“I think he needed this, though.”
“True.”
“I’m glad,” Nathaniel says, pivoting his hand so that their palms touch. “That you’re here for my grandfather. That you’re here for us.”
Heat creeps up her neck at his words. “I will be. As long as I’m needed.”
“You’re needed,” he rasps, pulling her hand closer.
His words have her heart racing. She licks her lips. Unsure where to begin.
Around them, people begin to gasp. To point at the sky. Phones come out and sharp exclamations of wonder fill the air .
Ash lifts her eyes heavenward. “Holy shit.”
“C’mon,” Nathaniel says, shoving up from the picnic table.
Fingers laced, they turn toward the beach. Toward the dark sky stuffed by lightning-white stars. And then they begin to fall.
Shooting stars streak pale across the inky-black expanse above them. Blazing a sparkling path. Ash brings her fingertips to her lips. She’s never seen anything so beautiful. Never felt so lucky and happy and free. It’s a moment. The universe is saying right here, right now . It overwhelms her. How big, how mind-blowing, how beautiful this little life can be.
Like he’s felt it too, Nathaniel tugs her into his arms. “Sneak out.” His voice is a rumble in the dark. “After my grandfather goes to sleep.”
Ash arches a wry brow. “That’s very con artist of me. Are you sure you want me to”—she gasps in mock surprise—“con your grandfather?”
“Fucking ha ha. I deserve that.” A gleam of heat in his gaze, he says, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
She tries hard to roll her eyes. “Because I made you come. Simple man.”
“No.” He says it with so much seriousness that her heart promptly ceases its beat. “That’s not it.”
Ash gives him a pensive look. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to do it again.”
He looks both unhappy and amused.
Ash smothers a smile. She likes that she’s the only one who can make him look this way. Boyish and chagrined. It’s adorable, if not infuriating.
One big hand finds her hip and draws her into him. “We do have a truce.”
Her eyes flick to the bar, on watch for Augustus. “Playing that card, are we?”
“I am. ”
“No feelings, right?” She tries to keep the words light, but they sink like sludge in her gut.
Nathaniel blinks, something like disagreement washing over his features. “No feelings.”
“Just sex,” she says, letting her restraints fall away. “Pure, unadulterated sex.”
His hand finds her face, cupping her cheek. A dizzying rush shoots through her as the rough pad of his thumb caresses over her lower lip. The way he’s touching her is primal. It makes her heat down below. She’s only one strong kiss away from paralysis.
“Come to my room tonight. Don’t make me fucking beg.” He’s looking at her like he’ll die if he doesn’t get an answer. If it’s anything but yes.
In her periphery, Augustus appears. He’s shuffling along the beach path, a trio of beers in his hands.
“Nathaniel…” She stares into his eyes. “I…”
Again. Again with his thumb stroking slow over her lower lip.
Nathaniel’s fierce gaze burns a hole into hers. “Tell me you’ll come.”
Too many emotions streak through her like those shooting stars. And yet fighting them seems foolish. So she says, breathlessly, “Yes.”
One word shouldn’t feel so dangerous, but it does.