Page 69 of Have To Be Mine

“See?” she said quietly.

I understood what she meant.

We talked some more. About that Milan show and about West Point and about what her father was like at her age. She told me about a logistics operation she ran in Germany that had gone wrong in fifteen different ways and how she fixed it. She sounded very excited about all the little fires she got to put out. She said she’d been too young to know how scared she should have been. I told her about the time Briggs and I got stuck in an airport in Seoul for twenty-two hours and how we’d ended up teaching each other card tricks in a Dunkin Donuts at three in the morning.

She yawned, which caused me to yawn. I leaned over to grab my phone. It was three o’clock. I could get up and go to my room. But I didn’t want to move.

“You’re going to be the little spoon,” she said and rolled to her side.

“I am absolutely not.”

“I can’t have anything touching my back.”

I thought about arguing. I thought about my dignity. Then I thought about Krista Hedley willingly wanting my body against hers. In her bed. I rolled onto my side.

She curved in behind me, her forehead touching the back of my neck. I felt her exhale.

“Not a word to anyone,” I said.

“I’m not saying anything.”

“Ever.”

“I’m asleep,” she said. “I have no idea what’s happening.”

I smiled in the dark.

22

KRISTA

Iwoke up to an empty bed and the sound of Dash’s voice coming from the balcony.

What the hell?

I rarely slept in like this. And I definitely didn’t sleep later than Dash. But apparently, the sunburn and staying up until the wee hours of the morning had wiped me out.

I sat up, gingerly stretching my arms. I felt moderately better, but it still felt like someone had shrink-wrapped my skin to my skeleton. Curiosity overrode my discomfort and I cocked my head to the side to eavesdrop on Dash’s conversation.

“Yes, I need confirmation on the lighting setup by noon today. Not tomorrow. Today.” A pause. “I don’t care if it’s Sunday. This is the job. We’re paying you a lot, so I expect your work to reflect that. If that’s a problem, tell me now and I’ll find someone who’s up to the task.”

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. Six thirty in the morning. Dash Blackwell was awake and working at dawn. Pigs had to be flying somewhere. Or maybe he was more motivated and focused when he was pent up and unsexed.

I shuffled to the bathroom, caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and immediately regretted it. I looked like I’d been dipped in red paint. My face was puffy and my hair could rival Einstein’s iconic look.

I splashed water on my face, brushed my teeth, and tried to make myself presentable. It was a losing battle. I looked like a boiled lobster wearing yesterday’s clothes.

When I emerged, Dash was sitting at the small desk with his laptop open, phone pressed to his ear, and what looked like three different spreadsheets pulled up on the screen. He must have gone to his room to get his laptop. And it seemed like he had already showered and changed.

“Perfect. Send me the updated vendor list and I’ll review it this morning.” He glanced up and saw me standing there. His expression softened. “I’ve got to go. Thanks for being on top of this.”

He hung up and turned in his chair to face me.

“You’re up early,” I said.

“Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d get some work done.” He gestured at the laptop. “I’ve been going through the Santorini checklist. There were a few gaps I needed to address.”

I walked over and looked at the screen. He wasn’t kidding. He’d color-coded everything and had apparently already made about fifteen phone calls based on the notes in his document.