Page 57 of The Sailor

“I can mix it up every now and then,” he said with a shrug.

“That sounds awesome. Thank you.”

“You’ll stay?” Zach found himself asking. He wouldn’t take it for granted that she’d spend the night with him, especially after the last couple of days, when he’d felt her pulling back.

“If you want me to,” she told him.

“I definitely want you to,” Zach reassured her. “Always. And for the record, you have an open invitation. You don’t have to wait for me to invite you over. There will be some evenings I need to work late, but for the most part, after the festival, I’ll have more time. And when the cold weather hits, I’ll have to decide what to do with the shack. It’s not as if people will be coming to grab something to stand around and eat in the cold.”

“You could offer takeout,” Marit suggested.

Zach blinked. Duh. Of course he could. He’d been so fixated on the fact that no one would come to a lobster shack in the winter that he’d been considering closing down, the way most businesses like his did. But if he could keep his customers throughout the winter, it was likely they’d continue to come by when the weather warmed up.

“Yeah. I could even offer delivery. At least maybe during the dinner hours. As long as the weather isn’t bad and the streets are safe, Casey, Karen, and Bill might even be willing to deliver for me after school hours,” Zach mused.

“I know if I could get lobster mac and cheese and those pot pies delivered to my door when it’s freezing cold outside, I would do so in a heartbeat,” Marit told him.

“You’re going to offer delivery? That’s an awesome idea!” Knox said, obviously overhearing the conversation between Zach and Marit.

“There aren’t enough places that deliver around here,” Britt agreed.

“You’re going to have to set boundaries, though. You don’t want to be driving all the way to Waldoboro or Camden. That’ll eat into your profits because of the cost of gas,” Chad chimed in.

“If you deliver to Lobster Cove, I’d definitely order,” their mom said.

“Mom, you know if you ever want anything, all you have to do is ask,” Zach told her wryly.

“Do you have pizza? We haven’t had pizza delivered in forever,” Kash piped in.

Everyone laughed.

“You like lobster, Bud?” Zach asked.

In response, Kash wrinkled his nose.

“Right,” Zach said with a smile. “I bet I could whip up a pretty decent pepperoni with extra cheese for you one night.”

Kash grinned—but then his smile immediately dimmed. “Oh, well, that’s cool. But never mind. Mom can’t really afford for us to eat out.”

It took everything within Zach not to ask why Victor couldn’t pay for it. The man had money. He might not be a millionaire, but he definitely had enough to buy his daughter and grandson a fucking pizza now and then.

Linc was obviously thinking the same thing, because he was frowning ferociously.

Just then, a cheer went up around them, and everyone turned to look at the crates. A girl, probably around nine, was running back and forth over the course like a gazelle.

Kash’s brow furrowed as he watched her intently, waiting to see how many trips she’d make over the crates.

Linc squatted down next to Kash and said, “Even if she beats your score, that doesn’t take away from how awesome you did.”

“I know.”

Zach supposed he did know, but he was probably still wishing the girl would fall. He’d been in his shoes once upon a time. Trying not to be a bad sport but still wanting to win.

The girl had just passed the fifteen-hundred mark, and the crowd was cheering wildly, when she stepped off the platform for another lap. Unfortunately, she misjudged where the crate was, or she just landed wrong, because she lost her balance and her arms windmilled as she desperately tried to stay upright.

It was no use. She fell sideways into the water, all but securing Kash’s first-place position.

“Is it wrong that I feel bad for her, but also good for myself?” Kash asked Linc.