Page 48 of Hate To Be Mine

Morning came eventually. I couldn’t have slept more than two hours total. I dragged myself out of bed and pulled my hair into a messy bun. With the humidity following the storm, there was no way I was using any hair products. It’s not like I needed to impress anyone.

Especially not Sebastian.

I debated what to wear. The sun was out and it was already warm. A sundress would be perfect, but I remembered the way Sebastian looked at me last time. I didn’t want him to notice me. I pulled out a pair of beige pants, one of the button-up blue shirts Annika had thrown in, and a pair of slip-on shoes. Everything was loose and baggy and not at all sexy.

I needed to be productive. I was going to throw myself into work and forget last night had ever happened.

I stopped by the craft services tent. Thankfully, Cookie let me grab one of the low-carb breakfast burritos. Then I headed out to the next location.

The morning shoot was on the beach. The trail down to the sand was muddy from the rain. I spent two hours working with the loading crew. I directed them on how and where to set up plywood walkways over the worst spots. I insisted they were secure and level. Couldn’t have a model twisting an ankle or falling face first into one of the bushes that lined the trail.

I walked along the path and stopped. “Make sure you hammer down that corner. We don’t want anyone catching their foot and tripping.”

“You got it, boss.”

Boss. They were calling me boss. In a friendly way, not a sarcastic way. The Safety Bingo had done more than just teach them protocols—it had earned me a tiny bit of respect. I had to be careful not to abuse my new power.

I saw Sebastian across the beach, talking to one of the photographers. Our eyes met for a split second and I immediately looked away, busying myself with checking another section of walkway.

When I glanced back, he was gone.

It happened three more times over the course of the morning. I’d see him, our eyes would meet, and one of us would find an excuse to be somewhere else. No flirting. No jokes. No direct eye contact maintained for more than a fraction of a second.

It shouldn’t have stung. This was what I wanted, right? Professional distance. Pretending it never happened.

But it did sting. More than I wanted to admit.

And it was annoying. He was the one who’d kissed me first. If he regretted it or was embarrassed by it, fine, but don’t start something if you’re not going to finish it. Don’t make me feel wanted and then act like I’m invisible the next day.

Not that I wanted him to finish anything. Not that I wanted him at all.

Liar, my brain whispered.

Maybe he’d been drunk.

No, I would have tasted the alcohol. My tongue had practically been down his throat. No toothpaste or mints could have disguised the alcohol with how thoroughly I had devoured him.

And dammit, just thinking about the almost-sex had my body humming and my panties damp. I couldn’t blame the dampness on the humidity. My body reacted to him despite me trying like hell not to.

I threw myself harder into the work. Checked and double-checked every safety measure. I reviewed the shot list even though I had it memorized. I did everything I could to stay busy and distracted from the thoughts that kept trying to rear their ugly heads.

“You okay?” Annika asked during a break, appearing at my elbow with bottles of water.

“Fine. Why?”

“You seem intense. More than usual.”

“Just doing my job.”

She nodded but it was the kind of nod that said she knew I was full of shit. “Mm-hmm. And that has nothing to do with the fact that you and Sebastian have been avoiding each other all morning like you’re playing some kind of elaborate game of tag?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” She handed me a water bottle. “For what it’s worth, he looks just as miserable as you do.”

“I’m not miserable.”

“Right. And I’m not Swedish.” She patted my arm. “Just talk to him, darling. Whatever happened last night, you two need to clear the air. This awkwardness isn’t good for anyone. People will notice. And if they notice and don’t have a good reason to blame the awkwardness on, they’ll come up with their own. Trust me, you don’t want that.”