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.
I closed the door to my hotel suite in the grand, five-star hotel in the center of Saint Tropez and dragged wet fingers through my hair as I headed to the lifts. I had few concessions to vanity. Aftershave, hair products, and moisturizer were for a different kind of man. I’d known times when soap had been a luxury, so it was all I’d ever need.
As I walked into the darkened bar, the buzz in my veins, the sense that what was about to happen was both an ending and a beginning, reminded me of the night before a deployment. I hoped tonight would be familiar in other ways, too—a few beers and some banter with Harvey, who I had a bone to pick with because he had told Reynolds I might be up for a field assignment. I’d forgive him, we’d drink some beer, and somewhere during the evening, I’d find a pretty blonde.
Some soldiers liked to have the certainty of someone at home waiting for them. They enjoyed the messages and letters on longer deployments, the home life they returned to in between assignments. That wasn’t me. I hated the idea of a part-time girlfriend or wife. I didn’t do things by halves. And anyway, I’d never yearned for stability or repetition. I thrived on change—it was one of the reasons I’d sold my business. That and the millions of pounds that now sat in my bank account. Military men rarely got rich, but then I’d always been an exception.