The Wrong Gentleman(12)

“Yeah, I wanted to catch up with you after last night. How was it?” she asked. “He looks like he knows his way around a woman’s body.”

Of course Landon was experienced. I dreaded to think how many women he’d been with, not that it mattered. I just didn’t want to imagine that last night was normal for him. Because it hadn’t been normal for me. Anything but. “I guess,” I replied as I pointed at the 162-foot superyacht in front of us, the word Sapphire painted on its side in swirly blue writing. “This is us.”

“The name is so cheesy,” August said.

“His pet Chihuahua, apparently. The interior’s lovely. Did you see the photographs?” I asked, hoping the pictures weren’t from a hundred years ago or from another boat or something.

“No, there weren’t any online.”

Yachts owned by private owners didn’t often share images online. If you were rich enough to own a superyacht, you didn’t need to shout about it. “I requested them.” There was no way I was accepting a job without understanding what I was walking into. Yachting was only glamorous as a guest. Staff quarters were never great, but some were better than others, and I always wanted to know what the place I’d call home for the summer was going to look like.

“Of course you did.”

We hopped out of our shoes and lugged our bags onto the bow of the boat. “I’m meeting the captain at twelve. Let’s go figure out rooms.” I checked my watch. We had an hour. The rest of the crew wouldn’t arrive until after my meeting, and I would have allocated crew cabins by then. We had two days until the owner arrived—plenty of time to get things shipshape.

“You haven’t told me about your night with Landon. How was it?” August asked.

At just the mention of his name, my heart began to thud against my chest. I needed to forget about last night. Focus on today, but I couldn’t stop my grin creeping back onto my face. “He’s a charming guy and he knows it.”

“I knew you’d like him.”

“I didn’t say I liked him.” I led the way into the main saloon of the boat. It was exactly how the pictures had depicted it. It was all simple glamour—dark woods, low lighting, modern. It looked like a New York townhouse.

“This is beautiful,” August said, taking in the room as she spun a full 360 degrees. “Is this real gold leaf?” She peered closer at the bottom of the bar at the far end of the room, which had been covered in luminescent squares.

“I can’t imagine if you have the money this guy has that you fake your gold leaf,” I said.

“He’s a Texan, right? This has more of an East Coast vibe,” August said.

“That’s what I was thinking. Maybe his wife is from some old Boston family or something.”

August shot me a look.

“What?”

“I thought you’d know. Walt Williams is divorced. He’s forty-three and not bad looking from the pictures I’ve seen, and he’s definitely not married.”

“I had no idea.” I’d worked with the captain before and, wanting the potential of a longer-term gig, I’d decided to try a private boat. The interior looked nice and it paid well, but I hadn’t looked into the owner’s background other than to check he wasn’t Russian, because those kinda boats had all sorts of stuff going on that I wanted no part of.

“I thought you might have your eye on him.”

“You thought we were here husband shopping?” The divide between guests and crew on charter yachts was clearly drawn. Messing around with a guest could cost you your yachting career. It had worked out for a friend of mine who was currently married to a gorgeous English guy, but mostly, stewardesses got fired for looking at a guest the wrong way. But things were different on a private yacht. Whatever the owner wanted, the owner got, so August could be forgiven for thinking that maybe that’s why we were here.

“I thought you were husband shopping, yes.”

“I had no clue.” If I’d been serious about landing a man with money, I would have looked Walt up.

“His grandfather made a shit ton of money in oil apparently, and he’s now doing some alternative fuel stuff. He’s been in Forbes.” August peered into the cupboards behind the bar, presumably checking out storage options.

It wasn’t often that August was more prepared than I was, and it caught me off guard. I should have done my homework—supposed husband material or not. I should have looked up Walt’s preferences and checked into his history to see if I could figure out how I could make his stay more special. I’d talk to the captain. He might have some ideas. “We’re going to have to impress him.” I trailed a fingertip along the windowsill, trying to figure out how much cleaning there was to do.

“You mean you’ll have to.”

“I mean we. The other interior member is green. First time on a yacht. We’ll have to hide her until we’ve trained her up.” Plans started ticking through my head. I wanted to make sure we maximized the tip.

“You can arrange rotas so you have maximum face time with him,” August said.

I nodded, less enthusiastic than I should be. “I guess.” I hoped August didn’t get too fixated on Walt being potential husband material for me. “It’s not really professional to flirt with the guests, even if he is the owner. The tip should be our priority.”