Page 108 of Knockin' Boats
“Her restaurant failed, remember? She did everything she could to save it and it wasn’t enough. And youknowshe’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 learnnothingfrom 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.”
