Page 59 of Knockin' Boats
I waggled my brows in invitation and he huffed and turned away to pull on the tank. It plastered itself to his skin, and damn, that was almost sexier than seeing him without a shirt had been.
Wait.Sexier? Really?
Sawyer had always been my weak point. My best friend who I loved like a brother, then the one I’d lost when I’d stupidly broken both our hearts. Butsexy?That hadn’t entered my mind before. Not even the first time I kissed him. It had been impulsive and desperate and…somehow urgent that I do it.
But…sexy?
“Hey, y’all having some fun out on the lake?” Sawyer called out to a family that looked wilted from the sun.
“It’s been a long day, and I’m too wiped out to grill,” the dad called from their little bowrider.
“And I’m not turning on a stove in this heat,” the mother added with a laugh.
“You came to the right place,” Sawyer said. “We’ve got a pretty big menu. So you can get tacos—”great, more tacos— “or some more creative things, like this amazing spicy potato?—”
“Tacos sound great,” the dad interrupted. “Right, kids?”
The three kids, ranging in age from eight to sixteen, all sported a light sunburn across their freckly shoulders.
“What kind of tacos?” one of them asked. “It’s not fish, is it? I don’t like fish.”
I left Sawyer to explain the ingredients—which he’d mostly likely do in the plainest, most boring terms that didn’t do my recipes justice—and ducked inside to wipe out the last of my taco supply.
I sighed as I looked on my spicy sweet potatoes with true sadness. “They don’t know what they’re missing,” I murmured to my dish before getting back to work.
It wasn’t a total loss. I’d ask Vera if she wanted to serve it in the restaurant tonight. It might go over better there. If not, I could take it home and invite Mel over for dinner.
A couple of hours later we packed it in without screaming or kissing again. Kind of too bad. I didn’twantto fight with Sawyer, but I couldn’t deny the results had been enjoyable.
I wasn’t sure what that meant yet. But I’d take kissing over punching any day.
When we packed up the leftovers to take to the kitchen, Sawyer surprised the hell out of me.
“Can I take a couple of those spicy sweet potato-beet sandwiches?”
I blinked. “I thought it was frou-frou shit nobody wanted.”
He shrugged. “They just think they don’t want it. It’s still fucking good.” He hesitated. “And uh, I really wasn’t trying tonotsell it. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“Next time, fucking listen to me. I’m the chef, okay? This is my business, and I’ve worked too damn heard for you to come in and?—”
Sawyer grabbed my face and kissed me, quick and hard.
I blinked, dazed. “What was that?”
“Me shutting you up. Now, let’s get the rest of this food packed up. Shua will be waiting for me. They’ll love your food.”
The neighbor kid. Well, that was…sweet.
We got the boat docked and unloaded, and Sawyer helped me cart it all into the kitchen. I got him the leftovers he wanted, thenwent to check in with Vera about what, if anything, she could incorporate into the dinner menu.
The restaurant was filled—mostly with locals who loved Vera’s cooking—but I noticed a couple waiting to check in at the front desk and a handful of resort guests out in the pool on my way out.
I waved to Brooks, who was bartending by the pool, then dragged my ass home to shower and crash.
The next few days played out much the same way. Sawyer was still a pain in the ass. If I asked him to wash potatoes, he wanted to pack a cooler instead. If I told him to recommend one menu item, he’d ignore me and push something else.
He poked and he poked and he poked until I snapped.
