Page 59 of Have To Be Mine

“It’s good,” she admitted.

“I know.”

We sat in the sun for a while without talking, which was something I’d never been good at with anyone else. With Krista, the silences were comfortable. She wasn’t filling the air with her wish list of handbags or complaints about what some frenemy did at the last party.

About an hour in, she set her drink down, reached for the hem of her cover-up, and pulled it over her head. I forgot what I was thinking about.

She was wearing a simple black one-piece, nothing flashy, nothing designed to show off. Practical, like everything she wore. And somehow that made it worse. I was a man who’d spent years surrounded by models in all kinds of clothing, and none of it had ever hit me the way Krista in a black one-piece did.

The waiter returned with the platter of fresh fruit I had requested. She pulled her sunglasses down to look at me. “Really?”

“Eat,” I said.

She grinned and leaned back, her left leg bent as she popped grapes in her mouth. It would probably be a bit much if I would have tried to feed her. Later. I would definitely be trying later.

She was settling into it, trusting me enough to let it happen. That felt different from anything I’d earned before. Earning her trust had been a huge challenge and it was rewarding.

“This is nice,” she said eventually, like she was confessing something mildly shameful.

“I know.” I ate a few strawberries and chunks of melon.

She stood up, walked to the edge of the pool, and slipped in without ceremony. I grinned. Great idea. I sat up, pulled off my shirt, and followed her into the water. It was cool enough to be a relief against the heat.

She surfaced, pushed her hair back from her face, and looked at me with something that was almost mischief.

“What?” I asked.

She splashed me right in the face, leaving me gasping and sputtering. I had no choice but to retaliate with some splashing of my own. She ducked under the water to avoid it and came up laughing, already repositioning for the next attack.

For about ten minutes we were two completely ridiculous adults splashing each other like we were rowdy children. It was genuinely fun to let loose with her. She was faster than me, but I was stronger, so we were pretty evenly matched.

“Truce,” she finally said, breathless, treading water in front of me.

“Truce,” I agreed.

We floated there for a minute. Water droplets clung to her thick eyelashes. She looked young. Uncomplicated. My phone started ringing from the pool chair. I ignored it.

Krista raised her eyebrows. “Is this why you never answer your phone? You’re always in the pool?”

“Sometimes,” I said with a smile. “But don’t worry. I’m going to answer it.”

“Wow.” She tilted her head. “Answering your phone. Where’s the real Dash Blackwell?”

“I can tell from the ringtone it’s Adrian.” I pulled myself out of the pool, grabbed a towel, and picked up the phone. “Give me five minutes.”

She waved me off and dove back under the water. I stepped away from the pool edge.

“Hey,” I said.

“Dash.” Adrian’s voice was hesitant, like he was expecting bad news. “Things running okay?”

“Things are running great. The Corfu content shoot wrapped yesterday, all the talent is paid, Mykonos is fully prepped, and I’ve already been in contact with the Santorini team. You can relax, brother. I’m on top of things.”

In the background, I heard a shriek of toddler laughter that could only be Bucky.

“Good,” Adrian said. “That’s good. I wanted to let you know Elizabeth and I have decided we’re coming to Santorini. For the runway show.”

I absorbed that. “You’re coming?”