Avery

“You expecting it to do a little dance?” Chef Neill asked, lifting his chin toward the boiling kettle.

I’d been staring into space trying to figure out how I was going to make it to shore as often as I could to call my dad. I snapped back to reality, grinned at Neill and poured hot water into the French press. “Clearly taking my time waking up this morning,” I replied.

“Shame our guest doesn’t have the same problem.”

“Right? What time did he come up?” I asked, nodding my head at the door of the galley toward the main deck where Hayden was sitting.

“No idea. I got here about ten minutes before you. He was on his laptop already by then.”

He wasn’t kidding about it being a working vacation. “I guess that’s what sober guests do.”

Neill groaned. Hayden had drunk half a glass of wine with dinner, but there’d been no tempting him with more, and he’d declined an after-dinner whiskey.

“At least there were no complaints about the food,” I said. He’d cleared his plate and I kinda liked the lack of fuss. I imagined him and his brother around his parents’ kitchen table doing the same thing when his mom served up meatloaf or something. It must be his family that kept him grounded.

“There weren’t many compliments either.” Neill, like most chefs, was sensitive about the dishes he prepared and as his friend I hated seeing him lack confidence because his cooking was amazing.

“Honestly, he is British and you know they can be more reserved about this stuff. And I think maybe he’s not focused on food.” Given Hayden Wolf’s insistence that he didn’t have any food preferences, I was pretty sure that Neill could serve up mac and cheese and Hayden Wolf would be happy with it. He didn’t seem like the typical spoiled millionaire who would order lobster or caviar just because they could, then inevitably waste it because they were too drunk, which led to them grabbing my ass, also just because they could.

I pushed down the plunger of the cafetière. Mr. Wolf didn’t seem as entitled as most guests. Wasn’t interested in exercising his power by telling us all how high he wanted us to jump.

“It just makes my job so much harder.”

I was going to try to coax a little more information from our mysterious guest so I could keep him and Neill happy.

“Do you want me to take that?” August asked as she came into the galley, tucking her polo shirt into her skirt.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it,” I replied. I was more than happy to take him coffee. Maybe he’d decided to take off his shirt. Not that I’d check him out or anything.

“He’s such an asshole. Thank God there’s only one of him and that he didn’t bring any friends,” August said.

I didn’t like the way the rest of the crew were so hard on him. I knew we always were with guests, but Hayden had done little to deserve it. He wasn’t making our lives hell in the way that some guests did.

I raised my eyebrows. “What’s got you in such a bad mood?”

“Nothing. I just heard he shouted at you yesterday,” she said.

I glanced up at Neill. Had the two of them been gossiping? The galley was the center of the boat and the chef always knew more than anyone else about what was going on.

“It was a misunderstanding,” I said. I knew Hayden’s frustration wasn’t directed at me personally. It wasn’t him being spoiled.

“If he shouts at me, I’ll shout back,” August replied in a singsong voice. “I don’t care how rich you are, you should treat people with respect.”

I tilted my head. “If you shout at a guest for any reason, I’ll fire you.” Hayden Wolf hadn’t exactly shouted and even if he had, he had a reason to be pissed.

She rolled her eyes. This was August’s second season and frankly, I wasn’t sure she had the even temper required to be interior crew on a superyacht. Hopefully, if I led by example, I’d be able to knock some of the rough edges off her.

“I’m serious, August. The guests who can afford yachts like this tend to be under a tremendous amount of pressure. If they lose their temper from time to time, it’s our job not to react.”

She shrugged but didn’t argue.

“Get started on the laundry, please” I said, picking up the tray of coffee and heading up the staircase to where Mr. Wolf sat on the main deck.

“Good morning, sir. Coffee, juice, the Financial Times, and the Wall Street Journal,” I said as the doors slid open. I bent and put the tray on the table beside his chair, glancing at him to check his reaction. With his muscular, bronzed legs and slightly curly hair that had seemed straighter yesterday, he looked like any other guest. I couldn’t imagine he took much care in shopping for clothes and, given the way he’d reacted to me offering to unpack for him yesterday, it seemed unlikely he had a stylist or someone to buy them for him. Perhaps his expensively rumpled linen shirt, which was still on unfortunately, and French blue shorts had been bought by a girlfriend.

“Because I’m British?” he asked, indicating the Financial Times.

Clearly he wasn’t a morning person. “No, sir, we have that on board for all our guests.”

He slid his laptop to the end of the lounger. “You don’t need to call me sir. Hayden is just fine.”

“I was wondering,” I said, tucking the tray under my arm. “Chef Neill would really appreciate some guidance on your food preferences. Is there anything in particular you’d like to see on the menu?”

“I was serious yesterday when I said I don’t mind.”

Neill was climbing the walls with this guy’s lack of concern about mealtimes, and I hated to see him so stressed. I glanced out over the water. The haze of the sun sitting on the horizon blurred the coastline as though some kind of force field existed between the water and the land. “It’s going to be a scorching hot day. What about I get you fruit, yogurt and toast for your breakfast? A chicken, goat cheese and pomegranate salad for lunch and then what about sirloin steak in a watercress sauce for dinner?” I was pretty much suggesting my favorite foods.

A beat of silence passed as I waited for a response. He might think I was being too pushy and get irritated. Some men—I found it was the less confident ones—would react badly to a stewardess trying to steer them in one direction or another.

“I think that sounds like you just read my mind and described my favorite foods.”

I wanted to tell him they were mine but that was probably too familiar. “Reading minds is part of the package,” I replied, trying not to show how delighted I was at his reaction.

The corner of his mouth curled up and I wondered if he’d be a good kisser. “Good to know. I might have a use for that kinda skill.” He paused, almost as if he was going to say something, but then pulled his laptop back onto his knee as I mentally high-fived myself at getting this guy to engage a little, to loosen up. He stopped typing. “And actually, if you can throw in some carbs somewhere, that would work.”

“No problem.” I was about to walk away but I wanted more for Neill than just today’s menu. And it was my job to ensure Hayden Wolf had what he wanted.

“I guess in your business you like working with people who want to give their best. People who give one hundred percent, and are great at what they do?”

Hayden looked up from his laptop, frowning.

“Well, the crew want to do the same for you, and our mind-reading ability only goes so far. We want to give you our absolute best. Neill is a fantastic chef. This boat has amazing facilities—Jet Skis, a pool area that we can set up in the ocean that safeguards against jellyfish. We even have an inflatable banana.” I paused. “Although that might not be your thing.” It was difficult to imagine Hayden Wolf doing anything just for fun, but I was sure he’d go to his grave without sitting astride an inflatable banana. “We’re here to give one hundred percent. And we like what we do. I know you are incredibly busy, but if you could give some thought to your preferences sheet, maybe it will provide you with a little light relief between phone calls.” I set down a blank form I’d printed off in the wheelhouse earlier. “This is an unusual charter for us—just one guest, eight weeks.” I shrugged. “We would be really grateful for a bit of direction.”

He didn’t say anything but continued to look at me with his dark blue eyes after I finished speaking. “I’ll take a look,” he replied eventually.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to go on. I just—”

“I’ll take a look.” He was done talking.

“Thank you.” I headed back to the main salon. It wasn’t a promise, but maybe he’d come up with something and at least I had today’s menu for Neill.

“Avery.”

I turned back to face him.

He didn’t look up from his laptop. “I’d like to deal with you as much as possible, exclusively, in fact.”

I didn’t let my smile drop as heat stirred in my belly. He wanted more time with me? Or did he not like Skylar and August?

“It might make things easier. I don’t want to have to fend off small talk from other crew.”

I nodded. Of course that was it. It wasn’t personal. Just that I was more senior and better able to swallow the thousand questions I wanted to ask him. How had he made his money so young? What had he done to create enemies? What was his family like? Did he have a wife? I could hold back—I’d make sure I did—but I wasn’t so sure about August, so his request made sense. I hoped it at least meant he thought I was good at my job.

“No problem,” I replied. “I need to clean your room, if that’s okay?”

Hayden exhaled, then swung his legs over the lounger and stood. “I’d like to be there if that’s all right.”

The last thing I wanted was supervision while I turned his room, but I never said no to a guest. “Okay, but I don’t have to do it now if you want to drink your coffee.”

“That’s okay. I’ll fit in around you.” He slid his hands through his almost-curly hair. “I can work downstairs as easily as I can up here.”

Nothing about this charter made sense—he must understand that I was meant to fit around him not the other way around. But I couldn’t fight him on this at every turn, so I decided I would just take his offer at face value. “Careful. I might hand you a mop,” I teased, leading the way back into the interior.

He chuckled but didn’t say anything.

Once in the bedroom, he opened his laptop and settled at the small table under the window. I set to work.

I’d never felt so much like the help as I did as Hayden Wolf worked while I cleaned. Ordinarily, I didn’t mind being the maid of the rich and famous. The guests all seemed to merge into one and I was able to separate who I was from the job I was doing. Maybe it was because Hayden was here alone, or maybe it was because he wasn’t that much older than me, but the distance between Hayden and me didn’t feel as vast as it did with other guests. And I didn’t want him to see me as a stewardess. I wanted him to see the person beyond the uniform as a woman who could have gone to college and done so much more than clean his room and change his bedding.

I kept glancing across as Hayden remained laser focused on his laptop, occasionally frowning or shaking his head. Perhaps I could assist him in some way? It wasn’t as if he’d brought a personal assistant on board, which wasn’t unusual, although they normally stayed on shore somewhere rather than on the yacht.

“How long do you think you’ll be?” he asked without looking up.

Shit, had he seen me staring in his peripheral vision?

I snapped into action, pulling the sheets from the bed. “I’ll be as quick as possible, but you really don’t need to babysit me. I’m trustworthy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, turning to look at me. The intensity of his eyes sent a shiver down my spine.

“Honestly,” I said.

Again he looked at me, opened his mouth and went to speak before shaking his head and grabbing his computer. “I’ll be next door,” he said and swept past me, that earthy, masculine scent following him.

It was probably for the best. The less time I spent in close proximity to this man the better. Normally, I played along when guests told me more than they ever should about their personal business—everything from sexual exploits to dreams for the future. I’d nod, smile and feign interest, but I’d never be tempted to ask for more detail—it wasn’t my business and I’d never been particularly interested—always focused on the job and the service I was providing rather than the people I was providing it to. With Hayden Wolf, I found myself having to hold back from following him into the office and asking him a thousand questions. That desire couldn’t just be his muscular arms and searching eyes. I’d never been taken in by just the physical before, but with Hayden it seemed as though there was more to him—his family, his drive. The way he looked at me. Yes, it was better that he left me on my own. I’d be able to focus on getting his room fixed rather than the man I was fixing it for.