The Wrong Gentleman(3)

“Don’t sound so incredulous. As a wingman it’s easier to have the courage to go up to strangers and introduce myself, to talk my way into the best parties.”

“I’m not sure courage is something you lack even when you’re not playing wingman. Anyway, you should focus on you and Harvey. He’s a great guy.”

August grinned, one eye with eyelashes of a supermodel, the other looking like she’d just woken up after a night on the gin. “He really is. I think he might be the one.”

I shouldn’t have laughed, but whoever August was dating was the one. Her dating history was a complete roller coaster, and I was happy to sit and watch on the sidelines rather than be in a car of my own. Not dating had some huge advantages.

I didn’t have to watch sports—either on TV or worse, live.

I was focused on my job, which meant I was one of the best stewardesses around. Even if I did say so myself.

And I didn’t have to put up with the inevitable heartache that came with dating. Heartache from having your expectations dashed. Heartache from someone not loving you back. Heartache from being constantly disappointed in someone.

A couple of times when I’d first met August, I’d suggested to her that maybe she take a break and tried to point out the upsides, in being single but she wasn’t interested and told me I was being depressing and cynical. It was shortly after that that I came up with my story about only being interested in billionaire-husband-material men. It seemed easier to be labelled picky than cynical.

“You know we’re meeting up with a friend of Harvey’s tonight. He pointed him out in one of his army photos. He’s h-o-t,” she said, spelling out the word.

I groaned. The last thing I wanted was a setup. “So, if he’s an old army buddy, already he’s not rich enough.”

“But he’s British. Doesn’t that count for anything?” she asked.

“The only thing that counts is the number of zeros in his bank account.”

“You’re so unromantic. You might fall in love with him and then you won’t care if he’s rich or not.”

I laughed. “I’m practical. Why fall in love with someone poor when you can marry someone rich?” There would be no falling in love in my future. All I was interested in this summer was making as much money as possible. Just like last season and the one before that and every single one since I’d started in yachting. My savings grew every year, and I was on track to creating my future and ensuring I’d never have to depend on anyone for anything ever again.

“Well, even if you don’t end up falling in love with him, you might enjoy a little flirtation. Maybe a roll in the hay before the season gets going.”

I leaned against the counter, watching as August sighed and ripped off the false eyelashes from both eyes. I nodded encouragingly at her lack of lashes. “Better,” I said. “And you know I don’t do one-night stands.”

“I can kinda follow your logic that you don’t want to distract yourself during the season.” She paused and scrunched up her nose. “Well, not really, but anyway, I get that it’s a rule of yours during the season, but technically the season doesn’t start until we step on board tomorrow morning. That means tonight is—”

“I’m not having a one-night stand. Especially with some random army guy. Not my type.”

“You don’t have to marry him. But seriously, the body on Harvey . . . He left the army years ago but these ex-military guys love to work out.”

“Well, that’s another reason to say no to him. I don’t want any guy who has an ass smaller than mine seeing me naked.”

August painted on her best shocked face. “So you’re going to spend your entire life a virgin?”

I turned and wiggled my ass at August. “Looks like it.”

“You have an ass Jennifer Lopez would be jealous of. But whatever. I just want you to be happy, my friend.” August pulled out some mascara and added another coat to her natural lashes.

“I am happy. I’ll be even happier when those tips start rolling in.”

“But I want you to find the love of your life.”

“Benjamin Franklin is the love of my life.”

“I’m serious, Skylar.”

“So am I.”

“I know you want to be comfortable. Financially. And that’s totally understandable. Coming from—well, you know, given what you’ve been through. But having someone who loves you is important too.”

Love was bullshit. Something people made up to sell greeting cards and wedding venues. I wasn’t interested. I liked certainty, and I could provide that for myself.

“This is going to be the summer of love. I promise you,” August said.

“If you say so.” There was no point in arguing with August when she had her mind set on something. “Now, are you done with your eyelashes? Can we get out of this restroom and go and get a drink?” After a conversation like that, I could see a tequila in my future. I didn’t need a man. Alcohol could keep me warm at night and had the added bonus that it didn’t leave the toilet seat up.





Three





Landon


I always enjoyed my reinventions. Reveled in the change. From student to soldier. From SAS commando to business owner. Tonight, I was somewhere between a multimillionaire playboy and junior deckhand. Tomorrow morning, the three-day-old scruff on my chin would have to go, as well as the expensive watch and Italian shoes.