Page 41 of Have To Be Mine

“Do you know there’s something called too much work?”

“Nope. Did you know there’s something called having fun after the work is done?”

“Okay, the beach isn’t your thing. How about I rent us a yacht for the day? Drink. Sunbathing—in swimsuits. Good food. Nothing but us and the open water.”

“I’m sensing a theme.”

“Relaxing?” I asked. “Yes, that’s definitely a theme.”

“Bathing suits. Did you design the ones for the campaign?”

I snorted. “No. But they’re good, right?”

She shook her head. “I’m not a fashionista⁠—”

“No shit.”

She scowled at me. “As I was saying, I’m not a fashionista, but I don’t see how hard it would be to cut out triangles, attach some elastic, and call it a bikini.”

I laughed. “I’ll admit I thought the same thing until I tried designing one once.”

“When was this?” she asked, interest piqued. “I didn’t know you designed stuff.”

“Well, the key word was ‘tried,’” I said, holding up my hands. “I was not great at it. But bathing suits were particularly difficult. And can you guess why?”

Krista paused. “I have no idea.”

“Because you ladies have a lot of round parts. Wrapping round stuff in fabric and making it look flattering is less intuitive than you might think.”

“Hmm, it must have been interesting growing up surrounded by fashion, glitz and glamour.” She met my gaze. “I’m surprised you’re not super weird.”

I barked out a surprised laugh. “If that’s your seal of approval, I’ll take it.”

“Oh no,” Krista said, eyes sparkling with humor. “You’re not getting my seal of approval until we see how the rest of the campaign goes.”

As we got ready for bed, we moved around the suite in an awkward dance, both of us suddenly very aware that we were about to share a mattress. Krista grabbed pillows from the couch and carried them into the bedroom. I watched as she started arranging them down the center of the mattress.

“Berlin Wall?” I asked.

“More like the Great Wall of China. You stay on your side. I stay on mine.” She looked down at the barrier like she was assessing whether it was sufficient.

“What if I’m a restless sleeper?” I asked, checking to see if that got a reaction out of her.

“Then you’ll wake up on the floor. I have a black belt. Your children will feel the kick I deliver if one inch of you crosses that wall.”

“It’s a lot more than one inch, baby.”

She threw a pillow at me. “That’s exactly why I need more pillows.”

I laughed and went to brush my teeth. When I came back, she was already under the covers on her side, the wall of pillows firmly in place between us. I climbed into my side, very aware of how close she was despite the barrier.

“Goodnight, Dash,” she said, her voice already thick with sleep.

“Are you sure it was seven a.m.?” I asked.

She laughed. “Yes, now good night.”

“Night, Krista.”