Page 34 of Knockin' Boats
“Don’t even joke,” I said morosely. “I probably just ruined any chance of ever getting our friendship back.”
Her smile dropped. “Ash, you don’t know that.”
My heart constricted. I remembered Sawyer’s outraged expression as I left the boat.
“I fucked up, Mel. I fucked it all up. Ialwaysfuck everything up.”
“Aw, honey.” She crossed to the sofa and put an arm around me. “Just talk to him. It’ll be okay.”
I shrugged her off. I didn’t want her close, didn’t want her touching me. Not when I’d stupidly exposed myself like this.
“Talking’s what got me into this mess. I think I’m going to have to avoid him for the rest of my life now.”
“Right. Like that will happen when you work at the same resort.”
“Soon, I’ll be out on the lake all day. I’ll be too busy to see him.”
“Because he never goes out on the lake?”
Fucking fuck. She was right. If I still worked at DreamBoats, at least we’d only pass from a distance. But now? There’d be no escaping Sawyer’s glares. His resentment. His plainly obviousdisapprovalof me.
And I’d only made it worse.
I woke early after a restless night. Between replaying the kiss with Sawyer and mentally drawing up to-do lists for my last day before the food boat launched, my mind wouldn’t shut off.
What little sleep I’d gotten had been full of chaotic dreams.
In one, I was in a boat with Sawyer and we went over a fucking waterfall. In another, I’d gone out on the food boat and not a single customer had shown up. Boats went right by as if I was invisible.
It didn’t take a psychologist to analyze me. I was freaking out. Worried I’d sent my friendship with Sawyer—whatever small remnants were left—off a cliff. Worried I’d fail.
I pressed my heels into my gritty eyes and went to take a shower.
I had too much shit to do to dwell on my fears. If Sawyer decided he’d rather punch me than kiss me, I’d take my punishment like a big boy. But I’d be damned if I let it stop me from what I’d set out to do.
The hot spray chased away the remnants of my dreams and focused my thoughts on the work ahead. Sawyer’s mo—er, Vera—had already stocked the kitchen with the ingredients I’d need for this first week.
Our private dock was quiet when I got down there. No surprise. I’d heard Mom and Rick return late last night. That worked to my advantage, because the less I saw of him right now, the better.
I climbed aboard the yacht, knowing Sawyer would see it and think about how fucking rich and spoiled I was. But I was past trying to make a better impression on him, so fuck it.
I reversed out of the slip. Once I’d reached open water, I hit the throttle.
It was a beautiful day. The sun rose over the horizon, turning the sky pink and reflecting off the water in sparkling rays. The wind whipped my hair around and tugged at my clothes, but it was as invigorating as theMocha Me Moan, Daddythat I’d gotten from Just the Sip the other day.
Damn, that shit was addictive.
My heart kicked as I neared the Swallow’s Nest dock, but I didn’t see any signs of Sawyer or Hudson. It was early for boat tours, so that made sense. I eased into an open space, cut the engine, and used a boat hook to get myself aligned to tie up.
It was a little more work without a second person to help, but I’d been doing it long enough I knew how to manage.
Then I hauled ass to the kitchen.
Vera was already there with her staff. They had their own prep to do for their first full service at the resort restaurant this weekend, and I didn’t envy them. They’d already booked several rooms, plus they were open to the locals. And their menu was a lot more complicated than mine.
“Hey, everyone!” I called. “Where can I set up so I’m not in the way?”
Vera turned from where she’d been in quiet conversation with her sous chef. “This is your kitchen too. Helena will show you where you can do prep.”
