Page 107 of Knockin' Boats
My gaze skimmed over his chest and abs. He was tanned and covered in light golden fuzz. My mouth fucking watered at the sight of him.
He was far too manscaped to ever be mistaken for some backwoods hick, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.
“You need a beer in your hand if you really want to pass.”
“Well, I guess we better fix that.”
I jogged up the two steps to my camper and grabbed two bottles of the regional lager I liked from the refrigerator.
Ash had returned to the lounger, stretched out with his legs crossed, looking perfectly comfortable without his shirt.
I was less comfortable. My underwear grew tight while my mind spun out fantasies about where the night might go.
I passed him a beer and took a long, cool gulp of mine before I could beg him to take off his shorts too.
“You know, I’m not the one slumming it,” he said.
I blinked out of my inappropriate thoughts. “How do you figure?”
He picked at the edge of the label on his bottle. “You’ve got your own place. I live on a boat.”
“Ahouseboatthat’s just as big as this tiny-ass camper.”
“But you own it,” he said.
“I guess. But you’re only staying in the boat to be close to work. Once the season’s over, you can go back to your family’s lake house in Swallow Beach.”
He chuckled grimly. “I’m not going back.”
“Oh. Why not?”
Ash took a long drink of his beer before answering. “Things aren’t always what they look like from the outside.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” I hesitated. “Did something happen with your family tonight?”
“Yes and no.” His jaw clenched. “Nothing unexpected. Rick was a dick, but I shouldn’t let it get to me.”
“Why shouldn’t you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t want to sound like a whiny brat.”
“Eh.” I wavered my hand back and forth. “You sound like a spoiled brat, maybe. Whiny isn’t usually your thing. What did he say?”
Ash tipped his head back to gaze at the stars dotting the sky. Out here, away from town, they were a bright, glittering blanket.
“Nothing I didn’t expect. He offered to give me a job again at DreamBoats if the food boat doesn’t work out.”
“And that’s bad? At least you’d have somewhere to land.”
“When I fail?” He slammed down the beer bottle and stood up. “Fuck you too.”
I jumped to my feet and caught his arm. “Wait! I didn’t mean it like that.”
He glared at me, eyes bright with determination. “I’m going to succeed. I refuse to accept any other outcome.”
“And my mom did?”
His frow burrowed. “What?”
