Page 56 of Knockin' Boats
I tossed the mini sandwich in my mouth, surprised by the flavors that burst on my tongue. The sweet potatoes were smooth and flavorful, but the zing of the cumin-spiced beets really made the dish, along with the aioli spread.
Damn.I didn’t even miss the meat.
That said, who in their right mind was going to order it?
The tube swung toward our stern, and I nearly choked. “Whoa, be careful!”
Tubing was the easiest of all the water sports, and as such, it attracted a lot of amateurs. That didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous.
The driver veered and slowed further, and the tube just missed slamming into the side of our boat. Ash wanted to make headlines for his weird gourmet food, not tragedy.
I bit down on the lecture I wanted to give the driver and slipped through the door to the kitchen. Ash was in the window, rattling off his specials.
“You should try our spinach-artichoke quiche or we’ve got a really amazing focaccia with goat cheese and?—”
“I thought this was a burger boat,” the driver cut in. “We’re not really looking for dainty appetizers.”
“Yeah,” another guy called with a laugh. “Supersize me!”
“This isn’t a fast-food drive-thru,” Ash said, sounding offended.
Shit, he was going to scare these guys off before they even ordered. They’d been playing on the lake all morning. They were being dicks about it, no joke, but clearly goat cheese and quiche wasn’t gonna cut it.
I barged over, hip-checking Ash to the side.
“I’ll take their orders. You just get out the steak.”
“But the specials—” Ash started to protest.
“Steak?” one of the guys asked, perking up. “Now, you’re talking.”
Ash slapped his phone down beside me, the screen open to the menu app.
“Fine, but stick to the menu,” he growled.
“Or?”
“It’ll be your ass I sear on the grill.”
I chuckled as he stomped away. “Chefs, right? So touchy.”
The guys all laughed, and I took a quick scan of the menu, omitting all the compote, croquette, and freakingsoufflewording that might send these guys running to keep their toxic masculinity safe.
“All right, so we’ve got seared steak bites, mini meatball subs—” I glanced over my shoulder. “Why didn’t I getthatfor lunch?” I turned back to the window without waiting for an answer. “Chicken tacos, grilled cheese, or some salad and vegetarian options if that’s your speed.”
Ash shoved his way back into the window. “It’s not just grilled cheese, it’s a trio with different flavors. There’s a prosciutto and gruyere that?—”
“Yeah, it’s amazing,” I cut in. I could tell these guys weren’t foodies who would appreciate the fine details. Keeping itsimplewas the key with frat bros like these. “I tried it before you arrived.”
“I’m more of a meat and potatoes guy,” the driver of the boat said. “I want that meatball sub. How small are they?”
“Eh. I’d get three.”
He nodded. “Done.”
The other guys chimed in with their orders, and soon Ash was too busy to protest. Another boat pulled in before they were gone, and we served them too.
We barely had time to exchange snarky remarks as I took orders and Ash hustled to make the food. A lot of it was prepped, but he still had to grill, fry, and heat things, and the temperature in the kitchen continued to climb.
