“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.”
Pity stretched across August’s face that she combined into a smile, then pulled me into a hug. “Great things are going to happen for you this summer. I just know it.”
August meant well, but it was her, not me, who needed a man to have a good summer.
“I mean, look how it started off. A night with Landon. Are you going to tell me how many orgasms you had last night, or am I going to have to wait ten days until I can get you drunk?”
“Three, not that I was counting.”
“Wow. That’s impressive.”
“Yes, he was.” He was so confident and assured. Not at all like the drifter he described himself as. “I’ve never . . .” I wasn’t sure I wanted to say the words out loud, but August and I shared most things. “I’ve never experienced anything like it.”
I glanced up at August, who was grinning at me. “You two looked really good together. Harvey says he’s a great guy.”
“Yeah, well it’s a good thing I’m never going to see him again. That man is one hundred percent pure temptation.” The memory of the way he looked at me as if I were to be cherished set off goosebumps across my skin. And the confidence with which he claimed my body? Just the thought of it made me shudder.
“He and Harvey are bound to have drinks again. We could see if we could arrange to meet up with—”
“August, no. You know Landon’s not what I want.”
She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Because he’s so incredibly hot and great in the sack.”
I was looking for ways to explain to August or just myself that it wasn’t just him being good in bed that had made last night so memorable. Maybe it was the way he’d put me first. Or had seemed to lift some kind of weight off my shoulders when he took charge.
I shook my head. “Men like Landon aren’t where my future lies, and I have to stay focused.” Landon talked about passion and love, but I’d lived in a house full of so-called passion and love. I’d seen the misery it brought.