“Oh, and Tate—” Ash slips off the stool and steps into Tate’s space. Gripping the collar of his bowling shirt, she yanks him down to eye level. Her pretty face threatening, her teeth bared, she says, “If you go this entire vacation without having a true one-on-one with your grandfather, I’ll come to your podcast and beat the fucking shit out of you with your microphone.” With that, she lets him loose. “Fuck,” Tate breathes in what Nathaniel swears is amazement.
