The Wrong Gentleman(43)
“What did you go in expecting?”
“I wanted to serve. To make the world better. To protect people who couldn’t protect themselves.”
“But surely you did all of that?”
He nodded. “At the heart of it, yes. But on a day-to-day basis, it’s not just the big things that impact who you are. Things like the self-discipline you learn and the problem-solving and the self-reliance. It’s those things that had more of an impact on me than I expected.”
“Do you miss those aspects?” I asked.
“No. Those skills are with me every day. They became a part of me.”
“And I guess you were working security, which had similar requirements.”
He just shrugged, clearly not ready to embellish on his experiences.
“Look at that view.” I pointed out the window. “You can really see the Rock of Monaco from here.”
“The what?” he asked.
“That sticky-out bit of land. It’s called the Rock of Monaco.”
He chuckled. “The sticky-out bit? You training to be a tour guide?”
“You knew what I meant. That’s all that matters.”
“So where are we headed? I thought women liked to lunch and shop.”
I groaned. “When’s the last time you hung out with a woman?” Maybe Landon’s commitment to one-night stands meant he was just as inexperienced at hanging out with a lover as I was. “I guess there are things the army doesn’t teach you—girls like to do more than lunch and shop.”
“I guess I’m still figuring you out.”
“All women or just me?”
“You’re the only one who counts at the moment.”
My pulse tripped in my neck. “Landon, a sworn commitment-phobe can’t go around saying things like that.”
“I don’t share a lot. But what I do say, I mean.”
He cupped my face in his hands and placed a kiss on my lips. I sighed at his touch and he pulled back, clearly happy to make me wait.
If we weren’t going to make out then I wanted to know more about him. “You said you had a brother; are you close?”
“More so now that I’ve left the army.” He grinned. “He’s a good guy. Settled down now. Never thought I’d see it.” He frowned as if he were putting pieces of a puzzle together. There was always more going on under the surface with Landon. I wondered if anyone knew his every thought. Or even a fraction of what went on inside his head. “But he’s happy. That’s the most important thing.”
“Maybe,” I said, staring out of the window.
“You’re not convinced? If happiness isn’t what’s important, then what is?”
“Surviving. Having food in your stomach, a roof over your head.”
Silence ticked between us.
“Is not having those things something that worries you? Here in the South of France on board a luxury superyacht?”
“Only every day,” I replied.
Before he could question me any further, I caught sight of the familiar restaurant through the front window and the cab pulled to a stop.
“So I was right about the fancy lunch,” he said, pulling his wallet out of his shorts.
“Hey, I’m paying for the cab.”
He frowned. “No, you’re absolutely not.”
I pulled open the front pocket of my bag. “I absolutely am.”
He thrust fifty euro into the hand of the driver before I had my wallet open.
“Landon, no. This is my day.”
Ignoring me, he got out of the cab. I followed, rounded the trunk, and held out a fifty-euro note.
“Put that away. It’s a cab, Skylar. I didn’t just buy you the car.”
“This is my day to entertain you. I didn’t offer to pay for the hotel room, did I?” I hated people doing things for me. I always worried I’d get used to it. It was much better to only rely on myself.
“I didn’t book the room for us. I booked it for me.”
“Yeah, which is weird. So don’t get me started on that.”
“Why is it weird?”
“It doesn’t fit with the whole soldier thing—wanting that kind of luxury when you’re used to . . . whatever you’re used to in the army.”
He smirked and pulled my bag from my hands.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“This is heavy; what the hell’s in here?” he asked.
“I thought you were used to carrying six-million kilograms through the desert.”
“I’m not saying it’s too heavy for me. Jesus, woman, do you just love to argue?” He hitched the bag over his shoulder and knocked his sunglasses from the top of his head onto his nose. “Where are we going?”
“We’re not going anywhere until you give me my bag and accept this money.”
“Skylar, I’m paying for the cab and carrying your bag. Get used to it. We can stay here all day. Doesn’t worry me.”
“But I don’t need you to pay—”
“But I need to.”
I fisted my hands, frustrated that I couldn’t think of something appropriate to say—something to prove him wrong. “I don’t need anything from . . .” Anyone, I thought to myself.