Page 34 of Adrift

I know she means for dinner, but my cock jumps because what I want is her on the bed with her screaming out my name. “I’d like to go talk to the chef.”

“Okay, I’ll take you to the galley.” She smiles at me, and I pull my stateroom door shut and follow her down the stairs. She smells of coconut and sunshine.

“I like your perfume.”

She laughs. “I don’t wear perfume. Maybe it’s my shampoo or cleaning solution. The mop bucket smells pretty good.”

“Whatever it is, it smells great. It’s definitely not from the mop bucket.” I need to back up?the last thing I need to do is hit on Haley.

“What did the diva say he wants? Raw chicken and overcooked broccoli?” A pot slams on the stove.

“Dante,” Haley calls out to him. He’s wearing earphones, and he’s got his back to us.

“I don’t care what his preference sheet says. I’m going to cook him real food. What a prick.” He throws his hands up in the air. “A little pork chop or some salmon. Avocados are healthy. But this is ridiculous.” He waves a paper in the air.

“Dante!” she calls out and thuds her hand on the counter. The vibration makes the chef turn around. He pulls his headphones off, and death metal blares out of them.

Chapter 15

Hardtack

Dante

“What the fuck, Haley? Let me know when you’re going to bring someone into the galley.” I reach for my phone in my back pocket to turn the music off. I slap the paper in my hand back on the wall.

“I told you before I went upstairs that he might come back with me.”

I grit my teeth because I told her to leave the pretty boy upstairs and she knows I did.

“Don’t yell at her.” Pretty Boy is smitten with her too.Well, get in line.But I bet he’s used to moving to the front of the line, with his father’s money moving him there.

The atmosphere in the galley has an added tension now, more than just between me and Haley. There’s a vibe that resonates, likely the result of money and privilege entering our little world.

I slam my spatula down on the counter. “She is the chief stew. I’m a chef. That’s how we communicate. She yells at me, and I yell back.” I point to Haley.

Pretty Boy turns to her.

She cocks her head. “He’s kind of right. But I tend to be on the less yelling side. But chefs expect it.”

“Really?” Pretty Boy is stunned.

“She’s not lying to you. What do you want?” I rip the preference sheet off the wall. I can feel a mix of anger and curiosity bubble up inside me. Why does this guy, with all his money, even care about the minutiae of yacht etiquette? I’m stepping way out of bounds here and slam his paper down on the counter. From what everyone has told me, the guy has been really useful today, and I’m treating him like a normal wanker who rents a yacht for a week, not the son of the owner. I’m not sure why.

Pretty Boy reads down the sheet. “Who gave this to you?”

Haley steps in. “It’s from the preference sheet packet that was given to the captain.”

“This is what I told Candy I ate last year because she wanted me to go out to eat with her and her friends at the country club. They don’t do simple food at the club. I mean, they might if I asked. But I’m not an a-hole who orders things not on the menu.” This time it’s Pretty Boy slapping the counter. His statement surprises me. Despite his background, he seems to understand the world and its unwritten rules better than most.

“Good.” That’s all I can muster up. Because I’m the champion of never backing the fuck down.

“What did you make the crew for dinner?” he asks.

“Pasta Alfredo with scallops, garlic bread, and salad.”

“I’ll have that too.”

“Good.” I glare at him. I think I won this round, but I’m not sure.

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