Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

Sawyer

I knocked on Heath's door, more than a little ticked off that I had to come over here after a day of scrambling to cover his tours.

Sick, my ass.

I'd made some calls last night, talked to some folks around town. Heath had gone on a bender, drinking late into the night at The Rusty Hook, and then given me a bullshit line about being too sick to work all week.

Heath's wife, Tammy, opened the door. "He's in the living room. Fair warning, though. He's been drinking all day."

I grimaced. "Am I wasting my time here? I came to talk to him about missing work, but if he's not going to listen…"

"I need you to set him straight. I've tried, but he won't listen. I know you're well within your rights to fire him, but he needs this job."

I was tempted to fire him. Hiring a temp worker until Hudson got back would be the easiest way to handle this.

I'd hired Gray, so I could surely handle finding someone else to fill in for a while. But I hated to do that without consulting Hudson—and I was determined not to ruin his and Fisher's vacation.

Besides, Heath had been with the business for years. He'd put in a lot of time, and grumpy bastard that he was, he deserved a second chance.

"I'll see what I can do."

Tammy stepped aside, and I entered their little house. The living room was small, just large enough to fit a couch and one armchair, but the place was tidy and neat.

I put that down to Tammy's efforts since Heath was reclined up with a beer, staring in the direction of the TV but not seeming to see much of anything.

"Hey, Heath. Missed you at work today."

Heath kept his eyes on the television. "Told ya I was sick."

"Uh-huh. You feeling any better? We could use you down there tomorrow."

He slanted me a look. "No one needs me anywhere."

"That's not true." I took a seat on the couch, shifting sideways to make eye contact. "You're one of our most experienced tour guides."

He huffed. "So why are you in charge, huh? While I get all the shit jobs?"

"You'd have to take that up with Hudson."

He waved a hand. "Whatever. Go deal with all that. I'm too sick to come back this week."

"Heath, I'm gonna be real honest with you." I waited until his eyes focused on me. "If you don't come back this week, you're fired."

Tammy made a distressed sound behind me, but I couldn't worry about her. Heath needed to understand the consequences of his choice.

"You don't have that authority," he said, sounding only halfway certain.

"Hudson told me to do what I see fit," I said. "I can find someone to take your place. We've got a stack of applicants. All I have to do is make a call. Or…"

Heath glared. "Or?"

"Or you sober yourself up, and you get your ass in by Wednesday. I'll juggle the schedule so we can manage until then."

"I guess…maybe I could be feeling better by then. If I get only morning shifts."

"You'll get the shifts I give you." I stared him down, not giving an inch. "You'll do what I need or you won't do anything at all."

Heath's face turned red. He looked ready to pop off, maybe tell me to take the job and shove it. Tammy stepped forward.

"He'll be there, and he'll be grateful for it."

"Is that right, Heath?" I asked. "I need to hear it from you."

"Yeah," he finally grunted. "Wednesday."

I nodded. "All right. I'll see you then. If you don't show up, there's no more chances. You got it?"

"Yeah. Got it."

Tammy walked me to the door. "Thank you for giving him a chance. He just hasn't been the same since his son died last year."

Shit, I had no idea that happened. Heath kept to himself, didn't talk much to me, though I knew he had friends in town.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. "I hope he shows up Wednesday, but maybe you ought to think about getting that drinking under control?"

She nodded. "I know. I'm working on it."

"Good. In the meantime, I'll make sure he doesn't have any booze cruises."

I'd told Heath he'd take the shifts I wanted, but there was no way I could put an alcoholic in that situation. And with Gray covering extra tours today and tomorrow, I could hardly make him take every booze cruise too.

I went back to the office to reconfigure the schedule, putting myself down for a booze cruise on Friday with a grimace.

I'd be taking one for the team, but at least I got to choose which night I did it. Gray wasn't getting that luxury. There were some perks to being the boss. Even dealing with Heath wasn't all bad.

He was jealous Hudson had relied on me. Resentful he wasn't calling the shots with his seniority. But he was also hurting and needed help. Maybe I'd done my small part to get him back on the right track.

I hoped so. Because I'd fire him if I had to, but helping him would feel a whole lot better.

The sky had deepened to a velvety purple by the time I readied my boat to head home. It was damn near nine p.m. at this point, but I'd eaten before I'd headed to Heath's, and Ash was at his mom's birthday party, so there was no reason to hurry home.

It had never bothered me before, but now I was reluctant to drag my ass into my empty bed.

Cash jogged up as I untied the ropes looped around the pylons on the dock.

"Hey, can I catch a ride with you?"

"Sure." I climbed aboard and gave him a hand up. "You going home or…"

"Yeah, but you can just drop me at the RV park. I'll walk from there."

"You sure?" I took a seat at the wheel, and Cash dropped down in the co-captain's chair at my side. "I can swing by the marina."

"Nah. I'll be too tempted to go to The Rusty Hook if you do that. Anything to avoid…"

He trailed off, but I knew what he wasn't saying. He hated going home when his dad was on a bender. They butted heads, big time.

"When are you going to get out of that situation?" I asked. "It's not healthy."

"When it doesn't mean leaving Katelynn with him."

"Your sister isn't alone, you know. She has your mom."

Cash sent me a desolate look. "I know, but Mom's got a lot on her plate."

I winced. "Yeah."

His mom worked full-time for a cleaning service—and sometimes she picked up extra shifts on nights and weekends. Even with Cash contributing rent, money was tight in the Hicks household.

"A walk will do me good." His grin stretched tight. "I need to get my head on straight or it'll be a shitshow when I get home."

I was pretty sure it would be a shitshow either way, but Cash didn't need to hear that. I eased out of dock and hooked around a curve of land to angle toward the LandShark RV docks.

After we secured the boat, Cash took off down a walking trail that would lead him inland, and I took a shortcut across the middle of the park.

I spotted a figure sitting in a lounger chair in front of my camper.

Not Shua.

Ash.

My heart quickened along with my pace.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

Ash pushed to his feet and tucked his hands into his pockets. He wasn't wearing the board shorts and tank I'd gotten used to seeing, but a pair of Dockers and a polo.

I almost forgot how damn preppy he looked sometimes.

"Hey," he said. "I know it's late. You up for some company?"

I flicked his collar. "I don't know, rich boy. You sure you want to slum it around here?"

"What, this?" He tugged the polo over his head, baring his chest. "How about now? Can I pass as backwoods Ozarkian?"

My gaze skimmed over his chest and abs. He was tanned and covered in light golden fuzz. My mouth fucking watered at the sight of him.

He was far too manscaped to ever be mistaken for some backwoods hick, but I wasn't about to tell him that.

"You need a beer in your hand if you really want to pass."

"Well, I guess we better fix that."

I jogged up the two steps to my camper and grabbed two bottles of the regional lager I liked from the refrigerator.

Ash had returned to the lounger, stretched out with his legs crossed, looking perfectly comfortable without his shirt.

I was less comfortable. My underwear grew tight while my mind spun out fantasies about where the night might go.

I passed him a beer and took a long, cool gulp of mine before I could beg him to take off his shorts too.

"You know, I'm not the one slumming it," he said.

I blinked out of my inappropriate thoughts. "How do you figure?"

He picked at the edge of the label on his bottle. "You've got your own place. I live on a boat."

"A houseboat that's just as big as this tiny-ass camper."

"But you own it," he said.

"I guess. But you're only staying in the boat to be close to work. Once the season's over, you can go back to your family's lake house in Swallow Beach."

He chuckled grimly. "I'm not going back."

"Oh. Why not?"

Ash took a long drink of his beer before answering. "Things aren't always what they look like from the outside."

"Yeah, I guess so." I hesitated. "Did something happen with your family tonight?"

"Yes and no." His jaw clenched. "Nothing unexpected. Rick was a dick, but I shouldn't let it get to me."

"Why shouldn't you?"

He shrugged. "I don't want to sound like a whiny brat."

"Eh." I wavered my hand back and forth. "You sound like a spoiled brat, maybe. Whiny isn't usually your thing. What did he say?"

Ash tipped his head back to gaze at the stars dotting the sky. Out here, away from town, they were a bright, glittering blanket.

"Nothing I didn't expect. He offered to give me a job again at DreamBoats if the food boat doesn't work out."

"And that's bad? At least you'd have somewhere to land."

"When I fail?" He slammed down the beer bottle and stood up. "Fuck you too."

I jumped to my feet and caught his arm. "Wait! I didn't mean it like that."

He glared at me, eyes bright with determination. "I'm going to succeed. I refuse to accept any other outcome."

"And my mom did?"

His frow burrowed. "What?"

"Her restaurant failed, remember? She did everything she could to save it and it wasn't enough. And you know she's a brilliant chef."

"Yeah, shit. I know. I didn't say I was infallible."

"And I didn't say you'd fail," I pointed out. "You've got support my mom didn't have, though. We had all our savings tied up in that restaurant, and when it didn't work out, our whole life imploded."

"I've got all my savings in this too."

"What? But your stepdad?—"

"Is a dick who didn't support me." He shrugged. "Sometimes you have to risk everything for what you want, right?"

"No. Seriously, Ash? Did you learn nothing from my family's situation?"

"I did." He drew close enough his body warmed my front. "I learned passion from your mom. She's a brilliant chef, just like you said. And she didn't let that setback define her."

"But she— We—" I huffed a breath to settle the emotions that swamped me when I thought about that time of our lives. "It was fucking awful, Ash."

He cupped my face and kissed me softly. "Yeah, I know. And I didn't help with that, did I? I'm sorry."

My lips trembled. "I really hope you succeed. I want that for you."

"But you do you believe in me?"

I thought of Ash's talent for delicious food. His passion, energy, and relentless dedication to the food boat.

And there was really only one answer I could give.

"Yeah, of course I do."

"That's all I needed tonight. Someone to believe."

"I believe," I murmured before kissing him again. "You're too stubborn to ever give up."

He laughed against my lips, then flicked his tongue into my mouth. I groaned at his flavor, but made myself pull back.

Ash came over tonight because he needed a friend. Not a fuck buddy.

"Are you hungry? I could heat up some leftovers."

He cast me a skeptical look. "I didn't eat much at Mom's party, but I'm a little afraid you might poison me."

I smacked his arm. "Come inside. I'll heat up some leftover chicken marsala I got at the resort."

"Oh, well, if Vera made it…"

I cast him a mock glare. "Don't push it. I could just leave you all sad and forlorn, slumming it in my front yard."

He grinned. "But you won't."

"Not this time."

Ash took a seat at the little foldout table in my camper and scooted my laptop aside to set down his beer.

I heated up the food, dishing it out onto a paper plate and setting it in front of him.

"What, no fine china?" He formed an O-shape with his mouth. "I really am slumming it!"

I kicked his foot. "Shut up and eat, rich boy."

He glanced at the empty table space before me. "You're not eating?"

"I ate earlier. This is for you."

His eyes met mine and held for a long moment. The air grew thick. Was it hard to breathe?

"Thanks," he said softly.

He finally dropped his gaze to fork up chicken and sauce and slipped the first bite between his lips. He closed his eyes and hummed, savoring it, and I had to look away before the situation in my pants became dire.

He needs a friend , I reminded myself. Just a friend.

"I love what she did with the sauce, and the prosciutto she added really?—"

"Yeah, yeah, you've got a chef crush on my mom. Don't make things weird."

A laugh burst from him. "You're lucky, you know. Your mom is really great."

"Your mom is great too."

"Yeah, but…" He trailed off, biting his bottom lip. It was unlike Ash to go quiet.

"What? Is she not supportive either?"

That seemed unlikely based on what I knew of Ash's mom. She'd been overworked and stressed when we were kids, maybe, but she adored her baby boy.

"No, she is," he said. "Within reason."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning she's as supportive as she can be without confronting Rick. He's not just a dick to me. I know you think I got this great life while you got screwed…"

"I never said that."

I thought it, but I never said it. Not to him, anyway. I grimaced. "Well, not much."

His lips quirked. "It's okay. I can see why you'd think so. At the time, Mom was so happy. Rick swept her off her feet and into a life of luxury. She'd worked so hard to take care of me on her own. She was so tired. I don't blame her for falling for him."

Ash paused to take another bite, chasing it with a gulp of beer. He wrinkled his nose. "You really should pair this with a white wine."

"You're slumming it, remember?"

"Well, if I get to share the slum with you, I'm in no hurry to leave."

He ran his gaze over me suggestively, and heat climbed my neck. Part of me wanted to take him up on the distraction. Fuck around like usual. But I resisted, because I really wanted to know the truth about Ash's circumstances.

All these years, I'd made assumptions about him, about his wonderful life. But I was done with that.

"We were talking about your family," I prompted.

He scrunched up his face. "There's not much to tell. The kind of money Rick has? It comes with strings. He wants to control my life. He wants me to work for him, which wouldn't be so bad, but he doesn't respect or trust me. He strung me along with promises of one day taking over, but he wouldn't even give me a promotion to manage in his absence. Hudson trusts you more than Rick trusted me."

"So, he's kind of a control freak, then? Hudson is easygoing."

"He let other people manage things. Just not me." Ash shrugged. "Then I thought, well maybe if he doesn't trust me with his business, he'd trust me with my own. But no, he was adamantly against it from the start."

"Damn, that sucks."

"Yeah. I think he wants to keep me close, wants me trying to win his approval, but he doesn't want to actually give it. Then, how would he get me to bend over backwards for whatever he needed? He's a manipulator."

"I'm sorry. You were great at that job. Anyone could see it."

He snorted. "You hated running into me on the lake."

"Well, yeah, because you were so infuriatingly cocky. I just saw the guy who had everything he wanted. I saw what I didn't have."

Ash clasped my forearm. "You've got more than you think. All you have to do is take it."

I twisted my lips. "You sound like Mason."

"Your brother?"

"Yeah. He thinks I'm settling for this mundane, boring life instead of really pursuing my passions because I'm afraid of repeating Mom's mistakes."

"Is he right?"

"Man, I don't know. I like my job. I like being out on the lake. But I guess I do get bored at times, you know? With Hudson gone, I've had to step up to deal with problems at work, and even though it wasn't fun dealing with Heath, it was…worthwhile? I guess? I kind of like solving problems. Maybe when he comes back, I'll talk to him about it. See if I can find some new challenges."

Maybe even pitch that idea for leading water-sport tours.

"That would be amazing," Ash said with a smile. "You certainly weren't some brainless worker bee on the food boat. You were a cocky asshole."

I laughed. "I wasn't trying to be. Honestly, Ash, I think…maybe I let my mom's history get to me. I was afraid you'd get off on the wrong foot with people. But you know your business best."

"Well, you weren't all wrong. The changes I made to the menu have helped a lot."

"Good." I pushed back from the table. "So what do you say we turn on some Netflix and chill?"

He wiggled his brows. "Clothing optional?"

"Whatever makes you happy. I'm just trying to be a good friend."

"Are we friends again?" he asked softly.

"Yeah. I want to be, if you do."

"Yeah, friends sounds really good."

My throat tightened for some inexplicable reason. My eyes burned. I'd thought I'd lost this friendship forever. I'd cast Ash in the role of villain of my life. It turned out, he had his own villain.

His own problems.

Because Ash didn't get everything he wanted. Not yet. But maybe with the support of his first friend, he still could.

And maybe I could too.

If I was brave enough to try.