His Glorified Maid

Seven

When she was certain she could speak calmly, she looked up at him. "Of course, it's a problem. I look like your date instead of the help."

"That doesn't sound like a problem to me."

Michaela looked up with a flush creeping into her cheeks. He truly was clueless. How could he not understand the position he had put her in? The crew would not look at her and see another team member. At best, they would look at her and feel embarrassed for her for trying to elevate her status. At worst, they would look at her and see someone who thought she was better than them. They wouldn't believe she was there to work just as hard as every other member of the crew.

And then there were the guests themselves; those that were invited because they could afford to hire a luxury yacht. She could already see the looks, hear the whispers and laughter when they discovered she was nothing more than a lowly deckhand in a nice dress.

"Your placement was last minute. We didn't have a uniform ready for you for tonight," he offered as an explanation.

"And this was the next best thing? I could have worn something plain, generic. White," she hissed through her teeth. He really was clueless about the awkward position he had put her in.

"I like what you're wearing."

Michaela felt heat sweep through her, and like a teenage girl with a crush, she failed to put him in his place.

"Let me introduce you to the other crew members."

"I think you've done enough." Stepping away from him, she walked over to introduce herself to the crew as the new deckhand. She feigned confidence as she walked towards the team of white, knowing that if she approached looking as embarrassed as she felt, that things would be so much worse for her.

Sonja, the new Chief Steward, was the first to respond to her friendly introduction.

"Interesting uniform for a deckhand. I'm sure the clients will appreciate your efforts."

Michaela ignored the snigger and responded, with a wave along her dress, "This is the uniform I was asked to wear tonight. In fact," she said leaning closer and whispering conspiratorially in Sonja's ear, "I have it on good authority that the wealthy bachelor, Carlos Everton, likes what I'm wearing."

Michaela felt the death stare and regretted her impulsive nature, but only for a second. It wasn't the best start, but she suspected Sonja wasn't going to like her regardless of how she responded.

At least she liked the other interior girls. A dysfunctional crew could make the confined spaces of a yacht unbearable.

Separating herself from the girls, she introduced herself to Carter, the other deckhand. He looked fit and strong and handsome, exactly as you'd expect. His gaze lingered down her length longer than was necessary, but overall, she got the impression he wasn't impressed. She knew why. Deckhand work was physical work and it made things harder when your partner couldn't carry their own weight.

"I'm stronger than I look," she offered.

"Clearly," he responded with a smile and the tip of his head in the direction of Sonja who was still glaring at her.

She relaxed a little.

"We're allowed one," he said offering her a wine glass. She understood that once the guests started arriving it would be their job to serve.

Needing to escape, she asked Carter to show her around. She took her time to enjoy her surroundings.

There was so much to see, and she loved the simple, yet beautiful connections between the spaces and the different levels. With mahogany timber lining the floors, the decks, and the walls, it could have quite easily become dark. She ran her hands along the picture frames clustered on one wall in the hallway that held historical black and white photographs, and paintings that captured the wharf, the marina, the people, and the character of pastimes. They made the spaces inviting, while the textures of fabric in the walls, curtains, and cushions added that touch of luxury.