“Of course. You have delicate footsteps. Unlike August.”
I giggled. We all teased August about her Bigfoot impressions.
“All six of our guests are up. But it looks like you’re off the hook for dinner.”
Anton’s head popped out of the fridge. “Why? What’s happening?”
“He’s asked me to book Alain Ducasse.”
“In Monte Carlo?” Anton asked.
“Yeah. I’m not sure I’ll be able to. I’ll have to call in a few favors.”
“Jesus, and then I’ll have to cook for him the day after he’s eaten at a three Michelin star restaurant. Shoot me now.”
“Anton, your food is excellent—he’s said over and over how pleased he is.”
“Maybe, but I’m not Alain Ducasse.”
“No, you’re better,” I replied.
“And you’re a terrible liar.”
We laughed and he prodded me in the shoulder.
“We should do a barbecue tomorrow. Maybe on the beach. Instead of competing, let’s do something different. I’ll try to arrange some entertainment. It will be the opposite experience,” I suggested.
“That’s a great idea. Hopefully you can find some kind of fire-eating, singing acrobat and no one will notice the food.”
“I’ll do my best.” I paused. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot,” Anton replied just as Landon wandered into the kitchen.
“Never mind,” I said.
“Spit it out,” Anton said.
I tried to ignore Landon, who leaned against the counter watching us both.
“Walt just asked me to join him for dinner,” I said.
Anton’s eyes widened, and he stopped cracking eggs into the bowl in front of him. “What? And that’s allowed because this isn’t a charter yacht and he’s the owner?”
I sighed. “I guess. But I’m not interested in Walt.”
“Good,” Landon said, and my pulse tripped in my wrist at his reaction. I tried to ignore it. I shouldn’t care what Landon thought about anything, least of all me being asked out on a date.
“Why not?” Anton asked. “You said you’re looking for someone wealthy who was single.”
I tried not to focus on Landon’s gaze heating my cheeks as he stared. “Well, he’s a client. I don’t want him to think I’m for sale, but at the same time he’s responsible for my employment this season.”
Anton winced as if he understood the impossible situation I was in. “If you don’t want to go, you shouldn’t feel any pressure to agree.”
The fact was, I did feel pressure. He was my employer, and the person responsible for the entire crew’s tips. I should just suck it up and get on with it. “It’s just dinner. And it’s not like it’s just going to be the two of us. It’s a business dinner, but with wives and girlfriends. There would be ten of us.”
“Anton’s right,” Landon said. “You shouldn’t go. He shouldn’t have asked—business dinner or no business dinner.”
I’d never heard Landon voice an opinion about anything on the yacht. When we were out with Harvey and August, he was much more relaxed, and on board he seemed to keep his head down and fade into the seascape. I glanced at Anton, whose raised eyebrows told me he’d thought Landon was acting a little out of character too.