Page 46 of Knockin' Boats
“Sorry,” Ash said, voice tight. “I’ve just got a little problem with the fryer, but I’ll?—”
“Forget it, man. We’re out.”
The first boat in the line sped off. Shit. That wasn’t good. Was Ash in over his head out here?
The second DreamBoat eased into its place. “We want whatever won’t take another twenty minutes.”
“Just give me your order,” Ash said. “I’ll get it done as fast as I can.”
They rattled off a handful of items, and Ash disappeared from the window. There was still one more boat between them and us, however.
“Bring us around to the stern,” I told Gray. “I’m going to see what’s going on in there.”
“Sure thing.”
Gray eased us back out of the line and around the backside of the boat.
“You can hold down the fort?” I asked him.
He nodded. “Of course.”
“Don’t try this at home,” I added for my tourists’ sake, then stepped up onto the side of the boat and climbed over the stern of the pontoon food boat.
I opened the door to the kitchen and barged in.
Ash jumped at the sight of me and dropped the bowl in his hands. Little yellow muffin things scattered across the floor.
“Goddamn it! Now, I can’t serve the Lobster-Mac Souffles either!”
“Souffles?” I asked dubiously. “They look like muffins.”
He huffed. “Who’s the fucking food expert here?”
“I don’t know,” I said, gazing at the chaos that was Ash’s work kitchen.
The fryer baskets were clogged with burned remnants of something. A stack of dirty dishes stood in the sink. A pile of cardboard food baskets was tipped onto the floor.
That was without taking in Ash. His T-shirt was stained three different colors and he had a white streak across his forehead, as if he’d swiped sauce there while shoving back his hair.
The man was a mess. His kitchen was a mess.
“I think you’re in over your head.”
“Fuck off,” Ash snarled. “I don’t have time for you to tear me down. I have shit to do.”
“That’s why I’m here. Tell me how to help.”
He glanced between me and the window, where customers were waiting. “You better not be here to sabotage me.”
I snorted. “Looks like you’re doing that all on your own. I’m just here so you don’t embarrass the resort or my mom.”
Ash cringed, and my stomach twisted uncomfortably.
“I didn’t mean that.”
“You did,” he said shortly. “It’s fine. Just wash your hands and then work on the sliders. The brisket is in the crockpot, and I’ve laid out buns. I’ll grab the toppings.”
“Got it.”
