Page 75 of Have To Be Mine

“Good?” I asked.

“If I could marry this lamb, I would.”

“I’m jealous of lamb. That’s a new low for me.”

She grinned. This was the Krista I’d glimpsed at the karaoke bar. The one who let her guard down for a whole five minutes.

“What about you?” she asked. “What’s your life like in New York when you’re not working?”

I thought about how to answer that. “Honestly? It’s a lot of noise. Parties, events, openings. My family expects me to show up and represent the brand. So I do.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Sometimes. It’s fun in the moment. But it’s also kind of empty sometimes.”

I leaned back in my chair and studied her. She wasn’t easy to read. There were many layers and I wanted to know them all. “Let me guess. Your apartment is all cold steel and minimalist furniture. Gray walls. Nothing personal.”

She grimaced. “How did you know?”

“Because you’re trying so hard to be taken seriously that you’ve stripped away anything that might make you seem soft or feminine.” I took a sip of wine. “Am I wrong?”

“No.” She traced the rim of her glass with one finger. “But I daydream about it sometimes. Painting the walls. Adding color. I used to love bright, colorful décor when I was younger. My mom had this thing for bold patterns and vibrant colors. Our house looked like a rainbow exploded in it.” She smiled at the memory. “Now everything I own is gray or beige or black. Flat. Safe.”

“Safe is boring.”

“Safe doesn’t get judged.”

I wanted to tell her that anyone who judged her for having colorful throw pillows was an idiot, but I knew it went deeper than that. She was so afraid of looking soft, she wouldn’t even let herself have a little color.

“My place hasn’t felt like home since I moved in,” I admitted. “It’s more like a showroom. Everything’s designer, everything’s perfect, and none of it means anything. I could walk out tomorrow and not miss a single thing in it.”

“That’s depressing.”

“It is.” I gestured around us. “This, though? I could live on this yacht. Just sail around forever.”

She laughed. “You could afford it.”

“We could afford it,” I corrected. “We could sail the world together. What would the logistics of that look like, Captain?”

Her eyes lit up, that problem-solving brain of hers kicking into gear. “Logistics would be easy.” She launched into a whole speech about the number of crew and where to get fuel and supplies.

I watched her talk, gesturing with her hands, completely animated. This was her element. Give Krista Hedley a complex problem and she came alive.

“See?” I said when she finally paused for breath. “Totally doable.”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe. But you’re smiling.”

She was. That rare expression that made her dimples appear.

After dinner, I led her to the bow of the yacht where the crew had set up something special. A massive cushioned platform, essentially a bed under the stars, with pillows and blankets arranged perfectly.

There was more wine chilling in a bucket.

“What’s this?” Krista asked.

“Stargazing. In style.”