The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(92)

My friends’ horrified eyes are wide as they watch.

“Welcome aboard, sir.” I nod.

They throw their heads back and laugh out loud.

This is un-fucking-believable.

“Welcome aboard, gentlemen. May I introduce your crew for the night?” Agnes smiles. “We’re here to give you the best night of your life.”

“Mission accomplished.” Masters’s mischievous eyes hold mine. “It already is.”

The other men all come on board and begin to dance through the yacht. They are already well and truly intoxicated. Loud and laughing.

Everyone takes off to their working positions for the night.

I go behind the bar; the three boys come and sit in front of me. “What will it be?” I ask dryly as I wipe the bar.

“Mimosas.”

I pour a shot of tequila.

I look left, and I look right. I drink it down and lean in real close. “Listen here . . . if you fuck this up for me, I’m going to kill you with a smile on my face,” I whisper.

They laugh like this is the funniest thing they’ve ever seen . . . it probably is.

“You’d do all this for a girl?” Masters smirks.

“She’s not a girl,” I spit. “She’s the girl.”





Chapter 20


HAYDEN

I pick up a tray of appetizers in the kitchen, fancy-looking sushi. “Take those around and then come back,” Helga, the cook, says.

“Okay.” I walk up the stairs, and Kimberly is coming down. “Bloody hell, they’re already tipsy,” she says.

“It’s going to be a long night.” I get to the lower level and decide to go up to the dance floor first.

Men are standing around and chatting. A few are dancing with the four girls.

Basil’s working behind the bar. His eyes are planted firmly on the scantily dressed women as he watches them dance. I hold my tray out to a guest. “Can I tempt you to eat something, sir?”

“Thank you.” They all begin to take the sushi, and the tray empties in no time at all. I go back down to the lower deck and make my way to the kitchen.

“They loved it,” I tell Helga. “It was a hit.”

“Good news.” She smiles as she pushes another tray over. I go back upstairs and head out onto the deck. There are three men sitting at the bar talking to Christopher and Kimberly.

Gorgeous men.

A little older, maybe mid-to late thirties . . . next-level hot.

My eyes linger on them as I do the rounds. I don’t know what they’re talking about, but whatever it is must be hilarious. They haven’t stopped laughing.

Kimberly leaves them and weaves through the crowd over to me. “Who are those men at the bar?” I ask.

She looks over. “I just met them. The one in the middle is Mr. Masters. He owns this yacht. He must be fucking loaded,” she whispers.

“And the other two?”

“The blond one is Spencer Jones.” Her eyes linger on him. “Fucking gorgeous. Have you seen his smile?”

“I have.”

“The other one is a politician, apparently.”

“Oh.” I widen my eyes. “Jeez.”

They laugh out loud again.

“Christo must have told them he’s dating one of us.”

“Why do you say that?”

“They just asked me which one of us is his girlfriend because they want to meet her.”

“Oh.” I screw up my face. “Great.” I plaster on my fake smile and head on out to the deck.

“Come over here.” Masters holds his arm out for me as he waves me over.

I walk over and awkwardly hold my tray out with a smile. “Sushi, gentlemen?”

“Put that down and talk to us,” the man with the black hair says as he pulls up a stool beside him.

“Hayden is very busy,” Christopher replies. “Get back to work, Hayden.”

What?

“No, no, no. Never too busy for us,” Spencer replies as he taps the chair. “Sit down.”

“Hello.” I smile.

“Julian Masters.” He holds his hand out to shake mine. “How do you do?”

“Hello. I’m Hayden.”

“Hayden who?” He raises an eyebrow in question.

“Funeral Home,” Christopher cuts in before I can answer.

Huh? My eyes flick to Christopher in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

“That’s the cocktail I’m making.” He fakes a smile. “To the funeral home we go.”

They roar with laughter.

“I’m Spencer.” The blond man smiles as he holds out his hand. “You can call me Spence.”

Christopher shakes his cocktail shaker hard and at lightning speed above his shoulder as he glares at Spencer.

I frown over at him. He’s acting very weird tonight.

“I’m Sebastian Garcia,” the dark-haired man purrs in a deep, sexy voice. He takes my hand in his and kisses the back of it.

A tea towel flicks at high speed past my face and whips Mr. Garcia in the face. “Damn flies,” Christopher snaps.

Huh?

“There are no flies at night,” I say.

“Sand flies.”