The Wrong Gentleman(21)

“That’s interesting,” he said as he began to stack the now empty dishwasher with dirty glasses, his muscles dancing beneath his shirt as he moved. “Why don’t you expect help?”

“Why would I? Why should anyone expect help?”

He frowned like I’d just said something shocking. “Well some people like to help.”

I dropped a new filter into the coffee machine. “That’s fine, but it’s the expectation that’s the issue. If you don’t expect anything, you can’t be disappointed.” I would have thought that was obvious. The easiest way to be disappointed was to have unrealistic expectations of people.

“I’ve always thought that people live up, or down, to your expectations. So if you don’t expect anything, you definitely won’t get anything.”

I grinned and then stopped myself. Landon was always surprising me. “How very . . . hipster-y of you,” I replied. I didn’t know him very well, but he hadn’t come across as the kind of man who thought about things like that.

He chuckled. “I’m pretty sure I don’t qualify as a hipster. In any way. It’s just my own personal philosophy.” He stacked the dishwasher like a pro. I guessed that was a skill people developed in the army.

“Not a hipster but a philosopher, hey?”

“We all have our own rules and theories we live by, Skylar.”

“And a psychologist too. And I thought you were just a pretty face.” And a nice ass, I didn’t say.

“Someone’s defensive.”

I shrugged. “Not at all. I guess I just had such low expectations of you.”

He laughed and the smile reached his eyes, his face, his entire body and I stopped what I was doing and took it in. Landon didn’t strike me as a man who laughed very much, which was a shame because it suited him.

I bit back my own smile, conscious that I shouldn’t be enjoying our interaction. I’d found him attractive before I knew almost anything about him. I didn’t want to find out he was a great guy who was fun to be around and a little more thoughtful than I expected on top of that. “You should go,” I said. “I’m almost done here.”

Landon scowled at me. “What’s next?”

“Seriously, you go on to bed. I’ll finish up here. It’s a one-man job.” Him being so close was making me uncomfortable. The more he talked, the more I wanted to listen. The closer he was, the more I was drawn to him. I wanted to hear about all the other philosophies he lived his life by. I wanted to remind myself how his skin felt under my fingers. And I knew that was dangerous.

“Bullshit. What’s next on your list?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure.” I needed space. What was his deal? Why didn’t he just go to bed? At least that way one of us would get some sleep.

“Again, bullshit. You know exactly what’s next. This interior runs like a train. Tell me and I’ll do it.”

He’d noticed how I ran the interior? I tried not to enjoy the compliment. How would he know what a well-run yacht interior looked like? “I’m going to polish the glassware that you just put in the cupboards, put away the laundry, and then I’m going to use the cordless vacuum on the sofas and wipe down the woodwork in the saloon.”

“I’ll do the glasses and laundry, if you do the saloon?” he suggested.

“Landon, you really don’t have—”

“Let’s put our energy into getting this yacht shipshape rather than argue over what I do and don’t have to do.”

I smiled—there was no way he was giving in and I liked that about him. A lot. “Thank you,” I said. He was right that I wasn’t someone who enjoyed accepting help. I was much more comfortable when I knew I was responsible for everything. That way, I only had myself to blame when something went wrong. But Landon made it impossible to say no. He charged in and just did it. Further, he didn’t seem to resent staying up, and he wasn’t making frat boy comments about making it up to him. “I’ll do this then,” I said, taking the wireless vacuum from its holder, still suspicious.

I worked quickly, vacuuming up pecan shells and polishing the wood free of fingermarks. It was tempting to leave it until morning—tell myself that August would have loads of time at the beginning of her shift before guests got up, but that kind of thinking didn’t bring the big tips. These rich guys often got up at anti-social hours to make a business call or catch the headlines. We needed to be two steps ahead at all times.

I kept glancing toward the galley, wondering why Landon was so intent on helping me. There must be a reason. I couldn’t imagine it was because he wanted to get into my panties. He’d done that already, and he’d seemed more than happy with my suggestion that we pretend it never happened, despite his charming reply. There had to be more to it. He was super handsome, good in bed, and seemed to have befriended everyone on deck. And now he was giving up precious sleep to help me. I had to figure out what his deal was.

“Okay, that’s the saloon done,” I said as I reentered the galley to find Landon holding a wine glass up to the light.

“I’ve just got a couple of these left to do. The laundry’s folded and put away.”

I liked that he’d taken his time over the glasses and not rushed it just to get the job done. “Okay, well, I’ll set up for breakfast.” I began to pull out everything August would need to set the breakfast table.