Page 155 of Knockin' Boats
Now, it was my turn—and maybe it hadn’t turned out at all like I would have ever expected, but I was damn happy to be wrong this time.
Until lunchtime, I trolled the Internet to research the best wake-making systems that could be installed in boats.
There were a lot of after-market products, but none of them were as good as boats with it built in, but that took serious money. Even if I did grow a pair and take the leap into investing in a business, that would remain out of reach for a while.
Not that I was doing this. I most likely wasnotdoing this.
I met Mom in the dining room at noon. She’d taken off the chef’s coat, leaving her in a blue blouse and dark slacks.
She carried two plates, one a colorful salad with shrimp, peanuts, and bright vegetables, and the other a crispy catfish with slaw, pickled okra, and fries.
I chose one of the empty tables in the middle of the room—all those with a window view were taken by guests, who were a mix of locals and tourists.
Skylar had planned for a soft opening and a gradual build throughout the season, but they filled more rooms every week as word traveled about the place.
Mom placed the catfish in front of me because she knew I wasn’t much of a salad guy, then took a seat across from me.
“Thanks,” I said. “It’s weird seeing you out here with the little people.”
She snorted. “The little people?”
“Those of us who can’t cook like a goddess.”
She chuckled. “Flattery will get you everywhere. Especially since you’ve thrown me over for the hot new chef in town.”
I grinned. “Well, it’s hard to compete with breakfast in bed.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You two are getting serious, huh?”
“Yeah, we are.”
I cut into the catfish and discovered Mom had crusted it with salt-and-vinegar chips. “Mm, you’ve still got it.”
“Of course I do.” She sniffed. “Maybe your boyfriend has a talent for food, but don’t forget who fed you first.”
“I would never.”
We dug into our food, and it was a few minutes before the conversation shifted. “How’s he doing anyway? With everything going on?”
“I don’t know. Okay, I guess? He seems to want to distract himself from it, but his mom is visiting today. That’ll probably make it hard.”
Mom nodded, brow furrowed. “How is Silvia these days?”
“Ash hasn’t talked about her a lot. I know he thinks she deserves better than Rick, but also…that she kind of…”
“What?”
“Maybe she’s too reliant on him, you know? I think Ash is afraid she’d choose him if it came down to it.”
“Oh, I can’t believe that,” Mom said. “She loves her son. I remember back when she worked at the restaurant, she’d workthese late-night shifts just so she could be around in the morning for Ash.”
I looked down, throat tightening. “Yeah, I remember.”
Mom laid down her fork. “What is it? You went quiet.”
“I was just thinking about the restaurant. Do you ever…regret it?”
“Regret opening it, you mean?”
