The Wrong Gentleman(22)

“Given you’re chief stew, isn’t it tempting to give these late shifts to your stewardesses?” Landon asked.

“Is that what Peter does to you guys?”

He shrugged. “I think so. Not that I’m complaining. That’s how it goes. I’m bottom of the rank.”

“Well, I don’t operate like that.” I’d never noticed Peter pull rank particularly. I couldn’t imagine doing that to my stewardesses.

“I noticed,” Landon said.

Was he watching me or was it just him being naturally observant? I’d done my best to avoid Landon, but there were certain things I’d noticed about the way he worked too. He seemed to listen very intently to anyone who spoke to him. And he noticed everything around him. I wasn’t sure if it was some army thing or if he was just nosy, but it was almost like we were all being watched or something.

“How are you finding yachting? Is it like the army?” I asked, determined to figure him out a little more. To know him like he seemed to know me.

He laughed. “Not at all. But I’m enjoying it.” His eyes glanced down my body and then he grinned when he realized I’d caught him. I could hardly chastise him. I couldn’t look away from his hard abs that were revealed every time he reached to put a glass away.

“You think it will be a career for you?”

“I doubt it,” he said as if his mind was completely made up.

“How come, if you’re enjoying it?” Just as I thought—he was a drifter—couldn’t commit to women or a job.

He pulled in a breath. “I just don’t think it’s the life for me.”

I wanted to ask him what other options he had. But I held back, hoping he’d tell me without me asking him.

“You’re very good at it,” he said. “The people, the demands. Keeping cool under it all.”

I tried to dampen down the sense of pride I felt at his compliment. “I’ve been doing it a while now.”

“Do you find it hard to keep your smile up all the time?”

Was he accusing me of being a faker? “Not at all. The guests are demanding, true. The living conditions are cramped, and it’s hard work. But this is not a bad life. I’m very grateful for what it’s given me.” Yachting saved me. It had given me a future. I’d had no qualifications, no references, no future, but this life took me and gave me a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and most of all, it gave me hope. Hope for a better life than the one I’d left behind. It also meant I had more savings than I could have ever dreamed of. “I have no reason not to smile.”

I looked up when Landon didn’t say anything and found him nodding.

“Speaking of grateful,” I said. “Thanks for your help tonight. You’ve saved me from going to bed after the sun came up.” I closed the cupboard door and scanned the galley for anything out of place, but everything looked good.

“No problem at all.” Landon was still looking at me.

I glanced away and wiped my hands down my skirt. “Well, I owe you,” I replied.

“I didn’t do it to bank a favor,” he said. I hadn’t noticed the amber specks in his eyes before.

“Why did you do it?” I asked, still confused.

“I like you. I respect your work ethic and the way you serve the clients. And I want to support you.”

This guy couldn’t be for real. His comment might be one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to me. “Careful, I might start having expectations of you.” I prodded him in the abs, trying to ignore the flip my stomach did when my finger connected to the hard muscle.

He grinned. “I’ll do my best to live up to them.”

For a fleeting moment, I wondered why this guy didn’t have a serious girlfriend or a wife. “Maybe you would. I won’t count on it.”

He frowned but didn’t say anything. “Let’s get to bed,” he replied, finally.

My heart began to thud through my chest and heat swept from my throat up my face. Did he mean . . . ?

Landon chuckled and rested his hand on my shoulder, guiding me out of the galley. “Not together. Wow, you really don’t have very high expectations of people, do you? You thought I was polishing glasses to get a blow job?”

Thank God. For a moment there, I’d thought he was suggesting that we repeat our one-night stand. Because that would be a gigantic mistake, I had to keep reminding myself. “People have done a lot worse for a lot less.” I took the stairs down to the crew quarters.

“How did you get so cynical, Skylar?” Landon asked as he followed me. “One of these days, I’ll get you drunk and you can tell me what happened.”

I swallowed. He just assumed I had a story. He somehow knew something had made me the way I was, and maybe at some point I would tell him. Landon had a way of making me feel I could trust him, that I could talk to him and that he’d listen and maybe even somehow make it better. I’d never felt that about any man. Even my girlfriends didn’t know the whole story.

When we got to the bottom of the stairs, I turned. “Thanks again, Landon. I appreciate it.”

He stepped toward me, so close that the fabric of his shirt pressed against mine. He looked at me silently before he said. “No thanks needed.”

For a second, I thought he would cup my face and kiss me, and I decided in that moment to let him—perhaps it was his kindness or maybe it was just fatigue. Instead, he dipped his head and pressed his lips to the top of my head.