The Wrong Gentleman

Outside the restaurant, I’d captured image after image of everyone entering and leaving. Most of the shots would be useless, but I was sure I’d captured Walt’s guests among the tourists and regulars, and I’d sent what I’d got to Reynolds. And I’d managed to get back on board without anyone noticing—the night had been a success. I just hoped it led to Walt’s downfall.

Unexpectedly, Walt and his five guests had left the boat just after seven this morning. I’d brought up all the luggage from their rooms—it looked like they would be gone for a while. If only I’d been at the center of things. I would know whether or not Walt had really only been in town to have the meeting last night and now had left or whether something had drawn him away. At least it meant that he couldn’t ask Skylar out again, which meant she was of less interest to Reynolds.

“All crew, all crew to the mess, immediately,” the captain’s voice rang out on the radio.

As I strode into the kitchen, Skylar walked in through the other door, gathering up her hair and fixing it into a ponytail. I couldn’t remember ever seeing her with it up, and her long neck, which I knew tasted like honey, had me fisting my hands to ensure I didn’t reach for her. So much for me ignoring Skylar and keeping focused on the operation. It wasn’t working despite the fact I’d barely seen her since that first night. I kept telling myself I was good enough at my job not to let my pull toward Skylar compromise the mission. I hadn’t made the money, celebrated the victories I had without being better than some guy who fucked up because he had his head turned. But could I enjoy Skylar and do my job? I was asking myself that question more and more often.

Reynolds suggesting I use Skylar had brought things to a head for me, and there was no use denying my ongoing attraction to her any longer. Skylar was physically my type—there was no doubt about that. But spending time around her, I found myself drawn to her. To the way she worked hard without it showing, the way she seemed to carry around a pain inside her in the same way soldiers who’d been in battle did, but she tried to hide it. It connected us by some invisible thread. I felt I knew her better than I did, cared about her welfare more than I should. I just couldn’t explain it, and as much as I tried, I couldn’t shake it. It was as if Skylar was really two people—the one she showed and the one she hid—and I wanted to uncover both.

“Hey,” I said, patting the seat on the banquette next to me.

She tilted her head and a warm, inviting smile unfolded on her face. I couldn’t help but grin back. “Hey,” she replied.

“What have you been doing this morning?” I asked.

“Oh, you know, some time on the Jet Ski, a little yoga followed by a massage. You?” She grinned at me, but it struck me that was how she should have spent her morning, and for a second I wondered if I could make it happen.

She’s not yours to fix and protect.

I nodded. “You’re lucky. I’ve been polishing chrome. For hours. And tomorrow it will all need doing again.”

She laughed. “That pesky salt water.”

“It would be much easier if we weren’t in the sea.”

“Right?”

I didn’t get to see this carefree side of Skylar very often. She usually had her defenses up. Or her affability was a mask she wore for the guests. I wanted more time with this girl—funny, playful, and fucking beautiful.

“You have a good time last night?” I asked.

“Better than I thought.”

A mixture of unfamiliar emotions wrapped around my heart. I hated that she’d enjoyed herself with Walt. I wanted to be the one she enjoyed spending time with. I wanted to pull her close and keep her from harm’s way.

What the fuck was happening to me?

I nodded, unsure if relief or anger would escape if I said anything.

“He was a perfect gentleman. You don’t have to worry,” she said.

“No less than you deserve,” I replied.

“I don’t remember you holding yourself back the first time we met.” She grinned at me.

Her sweet honeysuckle smell, the whisper of hair against my shoulder as she spoke, and then that bloody smile. This girl was a perfect storm of trouble. “Yeah, well, things were different then.”

Different because then Skylar was just another hot blonde.

Different because then I’d not seen the glimpse of the woman beneath the mask.

Different because I didn’t want her then like I wanted her now.

She turned to me, her eyebrows pulled together, confusion washing over her face, but before she could ask me what was different, the rest of the crew filed into the mess, silencing our exchange.

But this wasn’t the end of it. It was only the beginning. Last night, seeing Skylar in harm’s way, watching her go to dinner with another man—I realized that I wanted her. One night wasn’t enough, and the myriad of reasons not to pursue anything more with her all seemed to dissolve into the sea air whenever she was around.

She might be a woman I was prepared to go all in for.