“Careful,” he calls out as he’s hit with a jolt of concern.

Those gray-green eyes slice to him.

“It might not be deep e—”

Holding up her middle finger, she runs.

Jumps.

The splash echoes around the rock wall.

Gritting his teeth, he tears a hand through his hair. Waits. Fucking reckless woman.

Seconds later, she sputters to the surface. Hair plastered to her face, she shakes her head like a wet dog. She’s smiling. “Fuck. It is fucking cold!”

He almost smiles, but he holds tight to his grin so she can’t see it.

For some reason, he’s glad. That she likes the water.

Keeping her in his sight, he walks down to the beach. “And I thoughtIliked danger.”

She snorts. “Admit it. You were secretly hoping I cracked open my skull.”

“No place to bury the body,” he says, wading into the water. “How would that look?”

Ash hoots. “I demand a beach run.” Her eyes drift over him with heated appreciation. A rush of pleasure hits him. Ash liking his body does more for his ego than he’ll ever admit.

Arms arcing, he swims toward her.

“Look at that,” she drawls. “No emotion. No scream. Just a robot-like propensity for cold.” Ash bobs up and down, goading him as he gets deeper.

The outlines of her nipples are visible through the thin fabric of her bikini top.

Fuck. He’s done.

Ash floats backward, arms slicing the water. “This is good for him.” She casts a sideways glance at Augustus.

Beside him, Tate is crouched on a rock, gesticulating furiously. Adjusting his glasses, Augustus leans in, gives his grandson his familiar, patient smile.

“I think so too.” Nathaniel sighs. “Even if Tate is forcing him to listen to his podcast.”

Ash laughs. Water pebbles her face, one bead balancing precariously on her full bottom lip. The urge to lick it away surges through him like a wildfire.

She twists away from him. He follows.

Silently, they swim through the turquoise water until they’re in a cove shielded by tall rock walls.

“Wow,” Ash says as she takes in the cove. She stands, her upper torso rising above the water. Water sluices over her perky breasts.

Nathaniel tries not to stare. Fails miserably.

“This place is like a sitting duck for a maniac.”

A smile tickles his lips. “Always the macabre on your mind.”

Those gray-green eyes glimmer. “Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it.”

“You want to play?” he asks. “Truth/lie?”