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“I’m not that lucky.”
Her smile broadens. “Or maybe my room has no running water.” She shrugs. “But at least it’s half off until they fix it.”
I nod. “If you want a hot shower…” I jab my thumb in the direction of the marina. “You know where to find me.”
She raises an eyebrow at my offer. “I’ll remember that.”
“Open invitation,” I add.
“There’s that persistence again,” she notes with a shake of her head.
I smile. “I like you.”
“You really shouldn’t,” she says, chewing her bottom lip.
“I know,” I agree as we step into the warm glow of the motel lights. “But I suck at following directions.” I step closer to her, purposely invading her space. She peers up at me from beneath her lashes, close enough I can feel the warmth of her breath against my skin. My arm brushes hers as I reach for the gate and open it for her.
“Tomorrow night,” I state as she steps onto the pool deck. “Jupiter Crash, Raven’s band. You coming?”
Her eyes meet mine. “Okay.”
I smile. “Goodnight, Leela.”
She nods, and wanders down the dimly lit pool deck towardthe cement stairwell. When she reaches the balcony at her doorway, she turns to look back at me, then steps inside.
Fuck, I don’t know what to think about this girl. I shove my hands deep into my pockets and walk down the dock to the houseboat. I briefly remember my shoes and board left at the Sandbar, but I don’t really care. My stomach is in knots, my pulse thundering against my chest like I just ran a marathon.
But it’s just her.
Chapter 9
Ivy
Napkin knife fork roll. Napkin knife fork roll. Napkin knife fork roll. Napkin knife fork roll. Napkin knife fork roll. I pause, glaring up at the dishwasher as he walks over another bucket of clean silverware.
“No Ryan, take that shit elsewhere.”
He smiles. “Sorry, Evan said to rush it. They’re running low up there.”
I sigh. I hate rolling silverware. However, volunteering gave me the opportunity to occupy a small table near the kitchen where I could babysit the cash office. All I need is for Evan to go inside.
Napkin knife fork roll. Napkin knife fork roll. Napkin… Knife… I slow down, not wanting to run out of silverware too soon.
“I’m going to need a re-fire on this ribeye for table 27,” Natalie calls out, sliding a plate into the window.
“Wasn’t that already a re-fire?” Zaden asks, turning to fix her with a confused glare.
“She says it’s still too rare.”
“Ticket says medium. Does she know what medium is?” He tugs a laminated sheet off the wall and hands it to her. “Because I have a visual aid, if you need one.”
“Look, her words. Not mine.”
Zaden sighs. “Okay, Natalie. If I cook this steak again, it’s going to be well done. No pink. Is that what she’s looking for? Because I can’t un-cook it.”
“I guess?”
He shakes his head. “Go check again.”
