Chapter 23
DASH
Istood at the perfectly set dining table on the back deck of the yacht, adjusting the very expensive bottle of white wine in its ice bucket for the third time.
The best private chef in Mykonos was in the galley below.
I had made damn sure everything would be exceptional for my mini vacation with Krista.
I was going to show her what it was like to be treated like a queen.
I had the crew lay out a dress for Krista, just for dinner. Something simple but elegant. I wasn’t even sure she’d wear it. Part of me expected her to show up in the outfit from earlier. But when she appeared at the top of the stairs, I forgot how to breathe.
She was wearing the dress.
It was a soft coral color that somehow worked with her sunburn instead of against it. The fabric draped perfectly, flowing around her in a way that made her look ethereal. Her hair was down, falling in those natural waves around her shoulders.
She looked magnificent.
“Wow,” I said, standing up so fast I nearly knocked over my chair. “You look… wow.”
She laughed, a nervous sound that told me she wasn’t entirely comfortable. “That’s your big line? Wow?”
“I’m trying to think of something better, but my brain just stopped working.” I moved to pull out her chair. “You’re stunning, Krista.”
“Chivalrous now, are we?” she teased, but I caught the slight flush in her cheeks.
“Always,” I said, helping her settle into the chair before taking my own seat across from her.
She fidgeted with her napkin, smoothing it across her lap. I could tell she was a bit shy, unsure of herself in this setting. It struck me that it had probably been a long time since anyone had treated her like a woman instead of one of the guys. Like someone worth worshipping.
And I wanted to worship her. I wanted to make her feel truly seen for the gorgeous, feminine creature she was.
“I wasn’t sure you’d wear it,” I admitted, reaching for the wine.
“I almost didn’t.” She watched me pour. “But then I figured, when in Greece, right?”
“Right.” I handed her a glass and raised mine. “To surviving Mykonos.”
“To surviving each other,” she countered with a smile.
We clinked glasses and I watched her take a sip. The way her lips touched the rim made me think about things I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about during dinner.
The first course arrived. It looked like art on a plate. Krista picked up her fork and studied it.
“Do you even know what this is?” she asked.
“Not a clue. But it’s expensive and the chef is world-class. So, it has to be good.”
She laughed and took a bite. Her eyes widened. “Okay, that’s actually incredible.”
“See? You don’t have to know all the details. It’s all about trusting the process.”
We talked as the courses came and went. I deliberately steered the conversation away from work, away from anything serious. I wanted to know about her life outside of logistics and military training and wrangling idiots like me.
“Tell me about New York,” I said. “Where do you live?”
“Upper West Side. Small apartment. Nothing fancy.” She took another sip of wine. “It’s more like a storage unit for my stuff than an actual home, honestly. I’m barely there.”
“Because you’re always working.”
“Pretty much. I take contracts back to back. It’s easier that way.”
“Easier than what?”
She paused, considering. “Easier than having to figure out what to do with myself when I’m not working.”
I understood that more than she probably realized. I’d spent years filling my time with parties and women and anything that kept me from having to sit still with my own thoughts.
“What do you do when you are home?” I asked.
“Laundry. Meal prep. Go to the gym. Exciting stuff.” She smiled self-deprecatingly. “I’m not very interesting when I’m not working—I’m not that interesting when I am working, I suppose. I’m a very boring person.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“It’s true. I don’t have hobbies. I don’t have friends I see regularly. I have my dad in Florida, and I have work. That’s pretty much it.”
“What about dating?”
She nearly choked on her wine. “Dating?”
“Yeah. You know that thing people do where they go out and eat dinner or see a movie?”
“I know what dating is, Dash.” She set down her glass. “I don’t do it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m always traveling. Because men don’t know what to do with me.” She shrugged and looked out at the water. “Because it’s easier not to.”
There was that word again. Easier. Like she had an allergy to difficult, except I was pretty sure she thrived on challenges. She didn’t like easy.
The third course arrived—some kind of lamb that melted on my tongue. Krista made a sound that was borderline obscene when she tasted it. My balls were still a bit blue, edging on purple at this point, and the noises she made weren’t helping.
“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.”
“Rich people can’t do anything normal, can they?”
We climbed onto the platform and settled in. We were far enough from any light pollution that the stars were spectacular. I lay on my back, and after a moment’s hesitation, Krista curled up beside me, her cheek resting on my chest.
I ran my fingers through her hair, careful and gentle. I couldn’t help but think about how the hell I’d gotten here. This was supposed to be a business trip. Instead, I was lying under the stars with a woman who’d somehow become the focus of my world in the span of a week.
How had this happened? When had it shifted from me trying to prove myself to my family to me wanting to prove myself to her?
Her hand rested against my chest, directly over my heart. I felt her take a breath, and then, so softly I almost missed it, she started singing.
The same song from karaoke. Torn.
Her voice was beautiful, all quiet and intimate and meant only for me. I closed my eyes and let it wash over me. It was like getting hugged and cradled at the same time. Every note was perfect.
I didn’t dare move or speak. I just held her and listened, committing every second of this to memory. When she finished, neither of us said anything. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t ruin the moment.
Then the first firework exploded overhead. Krista gasped and sat up, her eyes wide as the sky lit up in brilliant blues and golds. Another burst followed, then another. The explosions reflected on the water, each one brighter than the last.
“Did you set this up?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. I had the crew do something special,” I said, pulling her back against me so we could watch together.
She’d probably seen fireworks a thousand times. But watching her react like a kid seeing them for the first time had me feeling all kinds of things.
“This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me,” she whispered.
I kissed the top of her head. “Good. You deserve romance, Krista. You deserve all of it.”
She turned to look up at me. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I want to. I like seeing you relaxed. Smiling.”
“You could have taken me to a comedy show if you wanted me to smile.”
I laughed. “Hell no. This is so much better.”