Page 55 of Knockin' Boats
Ash’s eyes sparkled.
“Careful, Saw. You eat my food, you might get even more hooked on me.”
He ducked through the door before I could smack the shit-eating grin off his face.
Damn it. Why did I let him get to me like that? He was obviously just goading me for fun. He’d done the same thing on the DreamBoats, and it’d worked every damn time.
Cash’s words came back to me.You’ve carried a major grudge against him for a long-ass time. You ever asked yourself why you couldn’t let it go?
This was why. Because Ash was fucking insufferable!
We finally arrived at the spot a few hundred yards from the marina. I brought the boat to a stop and set the anchor.
I didn’t go inside, though. Fuck that. Ash could tell me if he needed something. I leaned back against the railing and closed my eyes, basking in the sunlight. It was about ten a.m., because folks who went out early on the lake would be hankering for an early lunch.
By noon, the sun would be glaring down on me like I was her enemy. But for now, she was warm and comforting.
The door opened. The smell of something delicious wafted out.
I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to give up the few minutes of peace I’d managed to find. I waited for Ash to bark an order at me, but he didn’t say anything.
Finally, curiosity got the best of me.
I opened my eyes. “What now?”
Ash stared at me, a strange look on his face. He held a cardboard container in each hand.
“Ash?” I prompted when he didn’t speak. “You in there?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat and thrust a container at me. “Here. I cooked something.”
I took it and looked down at the sampler. Falafel, a triangle of some kind of grilled cheese, a sweet potato-and-beet slider, and some kind of carrot-radish slaw.
“What the hell is this?”
“It’s lunch.”
“You’re fucking with me, right?” I asked. “Where’s the brisket you were serving last week?”
“These are the new menu items this week. I wanted to test them out.”
“Great, so I have to be a vegetarian guinea pig?”
“You could always go hungry,” he said tightly. “But I suggest you stuff your big mouth and enjoy what someone elsemadefor you.”
He stomped back inside, letting the door slam behind him.
Whoops.
I think I hurt his chef’s ego.
My stomach growled, telling me that vegetarian or not, I should take his advice and stuff my face. I started with the grilled cheese, since that looked safe enough. The gruyere hit my tongue like gooey heaven, and I had to admit that it was fucking delicious. I wolfed it down, then moved on the falafel. I’d had it once or twice, categorized it as just okay and moved on, but the spices Ash had used, combined with the dab of sauce on it, elevated it. It was perfectly crispy, so obviously Ash had worked out his fryer problems.
I tried the carrot slaw next. It wasn’t bad. Fresh, a little sweet. I wasn’t sure it was better than regular slaw, but points for trying, I guess.
I left the sweet potato-and-beet slider for last. This looked just plain weird.
I picked it up with two fingers, eyeing it with trepidation. But before I could overthink it, a sport boat loaded with six guys—towing a large tube with two more behind it—swung toward us.
