Page 35 of Adrift

“Fine. Whatever you have, I have. I’m not picky.” He crumples the paper into a ball and shoots it into the bin. Hemisses by a good six inches. “My gold is in swimming, not basketball.”

“I can tell. I’ll have your food out for you in twenty minutes.”

He glances out at the main salon and back at Haley. “I can eat with all of you tonight.”

It’s a statement. Not a request. Pretty Boy knows how to command a room without raising his voice. And I wait for the chief stew to shoot him down with her grace.

“We’d love to have you,” she says.

My mouth drops open.

“What time?” Pretty Boy smiles at her.

“When we’re getting ready, we don’t all eat together. But I imagine in an hour. Is that good with you, Dante?”

I glance back at Pretty Boy and then Haley. “Yes.”

I wait for him to make his way up the stairs.

“I know,” she says before I can get a word in. “I know. It’s not ideal, and no one wants to eat with the guests. We need downtime. But he’s been through a lot today. He’s helped us out. But most of all, we don’t say no to the owner or guests unless it’s a safety issue. And this clearly isn’t a safety issue. In fact, it makes dinner service easier for you.”

“I’m not plating things up fancy,” I growl.

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” She smiles at me.

“I’m not making him dessert.” I hate baking. With more than a passion. I can make a twelve-course tasting menu fit for kings. But my cake looks like a kindergartener slaughtered a store-bought cake with a butter knife. And I only wish I was exaggerating.

“He didn’t ask for one, and he doesn’t look like he eats them too often.” Haley’s back with a reasonable response and that stunning smile. She knows how to diffuse every tense situation, making it all feel so normal. It pisses me off because I want to complain about something else. “I’m free if you would like me towash some of your pots.” She gives a little shrug, and I just wish it wasn’t only the pots she wanted to wash.

“You know, Haley, you’re not a typical stew.” I nod at her like I’ve said something earth-shattering. The girl has to know how special she is. Few chief stews who are running a boat that needs ten stewardesses would take the time to do something that is a chef’s job. She’s running water into the big kitchen sink, filling it to wash without me asking her to.

“Oh really? Why is that?” Her shoulders go up in an adorable shrug.

“Because you’re so damn agreeable.” Another fact she has to already know.

“Well, good. Because I like it when I get along with my chef.” She’s got the big pasta pot in the water and is squirting it down.

“As well as you get along with the captain?”

Water sprays over my shoes. She turned to look at me, and the sprayer came with her hand when she did. It’s dripping over the counter and puddling around my feet.

“Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry.” Haley’s running for the butler’s pantry on the other side of the kitchen, then she’s mopping the floor around my feet.

Unlike the rest of the crew who go barefoot, I wear plastic clogs onboard. Mine don’t have ventilation holes like theirs for safety in the galley?can’t risk burning my feet while cooking over hot stoves. The clogs let me focus on the job instead of having unprotected feet around scalding equipment.

I kick them off. And the next thing I know, she’s drying my clogs with a clean rag. Her on the floor looking up at me with soulful eyes... Fuck me. I’m getting hard in my chef pants. Luckily, they’re loose.

“It’s fine, Haley, you don’t have to dry my feet.” But when she sits up on her knees and wipes the water off the cabinets, her face is inches away from my growing cock.

She sucks her lips in.

I’m blessed in the sausage area. Well, packing, as they say. And I could be a gentleman and step back. But I don’t. And now I really want to know how she’s getting along with the captain.

“Why did you say that?”

“Say what?” I give her a wink. A wink that would send her to my cabin door tonight if she wasn’t already entangled with someone else. But chefs and chief stews are never a good mix, I remind myself.

It’s four a.m. and I pull myself out of my bunk, feeling the effects of yesterday’s long shift. I’ve managed to get a solo room, which feels like a luxury aboard this ship, since we’re missing so many stews. Another one since the captain sent Brianna packing on a jet plane. Brianna, with her too-loud laugh and endless chatter.

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