Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Ash

Mel gaped at me as I ran from the scene of the crime—my reckless, impulsive kiss with Sawyer.

Sawyer!

The guy who already hated me.

"Did I see what I think I saw?" she asked with a shocked laugh.

"Yes, and it's your fault!"

"My fault?" Mel squawked.

I snagged her wrist but kept moving. I didn't want to take any chances. Sawyer might decide to dock the boat, jump out, and kick my ass.

He'd be justified, because what the fuck had I been thinking? The man already had a major grudge against me. I'd broken his trust when we were teens. I'd never gotten to make proper amends. And now I'd totally mangled my attempt at an apology.

I charged across the lawn, dragging Mel behind me, and ducked into the guest house where I'd been staying the past few months. I threw the door closed and peeked out the window.

Sawyer and his boat were long gone.

I exhaled, unsure whether to feel relieved or not. Part of me thought we needed a good fight. Maybe if he decked me, we could get past the resentment and anger.

I threw myself onto the wicker loveseat, grunting at the rough landing. "What the fuck have I doooone?"

"Well, that's pretty obvious. You laid a big old smacker on Sawyer. Not that I blame you. He's hot."

"Not helping," I muttered.

"Fine." Mel walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She pulled out a bottle of cabernet. "Will wine help?"

" Yes . Please."

Mel grabbed the corkscrew and couple of glasses. The guest house had an open-floor plan, so I saw her roll her eyes. "So, how is this my fault exactly?"

"You told me to clear the air," I said.

"I told you to talk to him, not kiss him."

"I was trying to do that! But then you were here, and he was jumping to all sorts of conclusions about what it meant, and I… I needed to…"

I trailed off, because my logic sort of collapsed at that point.

Mel poured the wine. "You needed to kiss him?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "Well…no. I don't know. It seemed like a good idea at the time. It all happened so fast. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Mm-hmm." She returned to the living room and handed a glass to me.

I'd wanted to convince Sawyer I wasn't with Mel. Wasn't interested in ever being with her. But I didn't need to kiss him.

Except in that moment, everything in me insisted I did.

I sat up and took a big gulp. I didn't savor the flavors as I normally would have: the dark fruits and spices with notes of oak and vanilla.

Mel took a much smaller sip of her wine as she settled into the white wicker rocking chair beside the love seat. The whole place was decorated with a beach vibe. We were at the lake, not the ocean, so it didn't totally make sense. But I guess it was as close as we got in the Midwest.

"You know what I think?" she said.

"What?"

"This is a good thing."

I blew a raspberry at her because there was no way this was a good thing. Sawyer was more likely to throw me into the lake than rescue me from a fall the next time he saw me.

"Seriously," Mel insisted. "You needed to clear the air, and while I meant talking with words, you definitely sent Sawyer a message."

"That I'm unhinged?"

"That you're interested. "

I shook my head. "No, I'm not. I just wanted to make peace, that's all. And he thought I was still fucking you."

"You could have just told him you weren't."

"He didn't believe me!"

She giggled. "Well, I guess he might believe you now. But he might also believe you want to fuck him."

I set my wine aside and raised a pillow to my face to scream into it.

"Oh, stop being a drama llama," Mel said. "You do want to fuck him, and we both know it."

I lowered the pillow. "Fuck off."

"Come on, Ash. You've loved Sawyer your whole life. You know we got involved mainly because you missed him. It was a fucked up way to be closer to him."

"Because he was my best friend."

Mel leaned forward. "Your best friend who you loved ."

I picked up my glass and drained it. I didn't have a good reply. Mel wasn't wrong. I'd loved Sawyer like a brother once. But I didn't—I couldn't —want more than that.

Even if I was open to the possibility of being with a guy, it couldn't be him . There was too much damn water under the bridge.

Still, the kiss had been good.

Sawyer's mouth had been so soft, even as I'd caught him by surprise. He'd curled one hand around my biceps, but he'd never once tried to push me away. The kiss hadn't lasted long. Maybe he just hadn't had time to process and shove me away before we bumped into the dock.

But if we hadn't been interrupted, would he have pulled me closer? Opened his mouth to let me inside?

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

I couldn't be thinking like this.

If we hadn't been interrupted, Sawyer probably would have pushed me away and punched me right in my stupid face.

"Want another glass of wine?" Mel asked.

I did. I really did. But I had a lot of work to do tomorrow.

"Nah. I've got to do a shit-ton of prep work since it's the last day before I launch the food boat. I don't think a hangover mixes well with sharp knives."

She chuckled. "You need a ride over there again?"

"I'll take Rick's boat. I'm going to be working pretty late and I don't want to be stranded."

My stepdad would probably be pissed that I'd taken the boat for the whole day. He'd been giving me a hard time ever since I quit the DreamBoats. But I had no fucks to give.

"Maybe Sawyer could give you another ride," Mel said, then wiggled her eyebrows. "Maybe even a better ride."

"Don't even joke," I said morosely. "I probably just ruined any chance of ever getting our friendship back."

Her smile dropped. "Ash, you don't know that."

My heart constricted. I remembered Sawyer's outraged expression as I left the boat.

"I fucked up, Mel. I fucked it all up. I always fuck everything up."

"Aw, honey." She crossed to the sofa and put an arm around me. "Just talk to him. It'll be okay."

I shrugged her off. I didn't want her close, didn't want her touching me. Not when I'd stupidly exposed myself like this.

"Talking's what got me into this mess. I think I'm going to have to avoid him for the rest of my life now."

"Right. Like that will happen when you work at the same resort."

"Soon, I'll be out on the lake all day. I'll be too busy to see him."

"Because he never goes out on the lake?"

Fucking fuck. She was right. If I still worked at DreamBoats, at least we'd only pass from a distance. But now? There'd be no escaping Sawyer's glares. His resentment. His plainly obvious disapproval of me.

And I'd only made it worse.

I woke early after a restless night. Between replaying the kiss with Sawyer and mentally drawing up to-do lists for my last day before the food boat launched, my mind wouldn't shut off.

What little sleep I'd gotten had been full of chaotic dreams.

In one, I was in a boat with Sawyer and we went over a fucking waterfall. In another, I'd gone out on the food boat and not a single customer had shown up. Boats went right by as if I was invisible.

It didn't take a psychologist to analyze me. I was freaking out. Worried I'd sent my friendship with Sawyer—whatever small remnants were left—off a cliff. Worried I'd fail.

I pressed my heels into my gritty eyes and went to take a shower.

I had too much shit to do to dwell on my fears. If Sawyer decided he'd rather punch me than kiss me, I'd take my punishment like a big boy. But I'd be damned if I let it stop me from what I'd set out to do.

The hot spray chased away the remnants of my dreams and focused my thoughts on the work ahead. Sawyer's mo—er, Vera—had already stocked the kitchen with the ingredients I'd need for this first week.

Our private dock was quiet when I got down there. No surprise. I'd heard Mom and Rick return late last night. That worked to my advantage, because the less I saw of him right now, the better.

I climbed aboard the yacht, knowing Sawyer would see it and think about how fucking rich and spoiled I was. But I was past trying to make a better impression on him, so fuck it.

I reversed out of the slip. Once I'd reached open water, I hit the throttle.

It was a beautiful day. The sun rose over the horizon, turning the sky pink and reflecting off the water in sparkling rays. The wind whipped my hair around and tugged at my clothes, but it was as invigorating as the Mocha Me Moan, Daddy that I'd gotten from Just the Sip the other day.

Damn, that shit was addictive.

My heart kicked as I neared the Swallow's Nest dock, but I didn't see any signs of Sawyer or Hudson. It was early for boat tours, so that made sense. I eased into an open space, cut the engine, and used a boat hook to get myself aligned to tie up.

It was a little more work without a second person to help, but I'd been doing it long enough I knew how to manage.

Then I hauled ass to the kitchen.

Vera was already there with her staff. They had their own prep to do for their first full service at the resort restaurant this weekend, and I didn't envy them. They'd already booked several rooms, plus they were open to the locals. And their menu was a lot more complicated than mine.

"Hey, everyone!" I called. "Where can I set up so I'm not in the way?"

Vera turned from where she'd been in quiet conversation with her sous chef. "This is your kitchen too. Helena will show you where you can do prep."

Helena set down her seven-inch chef's knife and headed toward me. Judging by the way she'd been gliding through the pile of onions, she had superb knife skills. I had no illusions I'd be so fast, but I'd cooked enough that I'd bought my own knife set and was comfortable with them.

She led me to a section of stainless steel counter. Beneath it, doors opened to a refrigerated cooling space, where I could store the food. I would primarily be prepping ingredients for the first day, though there were a few items that I could make ahead that would keep for longer.

In these first few days, I wanted to do as much prep as possible since I wasn't yet used to working with the limited equipment I'd have on a boat.

Vera had shown me the freezer and pantry on an earlier visit, so after I made a list of everything I'd need to prep my menu, I got busy pulling ingredients. I had a chipotle sauce to make, chicken to thaw out, cook, and shred, and cabbage, onion, carrot, and cilantro to chop, shred, or mince for a slaw topping.

And that was just one menu item.

I also planned to prep a fresh mango salsa for the tacos, brisket and catfish for sliders—which would also be topped with the same slaw and a seared slice of pineapple—lobster-and-mac bites, cornbread muffins, sweet potatoes with a special aioli sauce, and a few other basic side items like ham-and-cheese pinwheels, chicken salad, antipasto bites, and popsicles made with fresh fruit.

Some items could be made entirely ahead to be reheated or crisped up in the frier, and some had to be prepared fresh.

But I was just one guy, and I had to prepare enough to serve dozens of people.

So I rolled out my knife set and started chopping.

And chopping.

And chopping some more.

Between this and fully stocking the boat with supplies, it was going to be a very long day.

But at least there was no time to think about how much I'd fucked up with Sawyer.