Krista bit her lip, smiling at her screen.
Across the counter, Kit caught the look. “Thatta girl,” she said, wagging her fork like a wand. “I don’t even need to know what you wrote. That’s a ‘something’s-about-to-happen’ face.”
Krista tried for nonchalance, swirling the last of her wine. “It’s just a lesson.”
“Mm-hmm,” Kit said. “And I’m just a regular chef who doesn’t own six different types of salt.”
Krista set her wineglass down and slipped off the barstool, trying to sound casual. “Be right back.”
She wandered into her bedroom, humming softly under her breath. The evening light spilled through the window, turning everything a warm gold. She opened her dresser and pulled out two bathing suits—her everyday black bikini and a bright coral one-piece that hadn’t seen daylight in two summers.
She laid them side by side across her bed, eyeing them critically. Professional paddleboarding instructor, she thought. Not woman currently overanalyzing her swimwear choices because of one kiss in a dusty attic. It didn’t matter if she could still feel the press of his hand at her waist, recall the way his mouth had claimed hers like it had always been his. Afterward, the look in his eyes made her pulse race, even now, which was why she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to see how he’d reply. Would he flirt back?
Krista lined up her two suits on her bed, snapped the pic, and sent it without a second thought.
Which one should I wear?
The reply came a minute later.
Hmm. Tough call. I might need to see them on.
Krista’s pulse kicked up. She stared at the message, smiling despite herself.
Hold please.
From the kitchen came Kit’s voice: “Everything okay back there?”
“Totally fine!” Krista called back, grinning as she slipped the coral suit from the pile.
She took a steadying breath, the kind that did absolutely nothing to steady her. The coral suit was bright—maybe too bright—but it matched the flutter in her chest. She changed quickly, checked herself once in the mirror, then laughed under her breath.
“This is ridiculous,” she murmured, though her fingers were already liftingher phone.
The camera clicked. She made the photo playful—her hand on her hip, lamp light on her skin, the hint of a smile. She sent it before she could talk herself out of it.
Better?
For a long moment, nothing. Then her phone buzzed.
You’re going to make it hard to focus on tomorrow’s lesson.
Krista smiled, heart fluttering. Her thumbs moved before her brain caught up.
Good. That’s the idea.
A pause. Then?—
Can I see the black one?
She stared at the message, a laugh slipping out before she could stop it. “Oh, he likes this,” she murmured to herself, grinning as she reached for the next suit.
The black one was more daring—a deep, inky fabric two-piece that shimmered faintly in the light. She slipped it on, pulled her hair over one shoulder, and lifted her phone again. This time she didn’t overthink it. Just a quick shot in the mirror, a half-smile, and the glint of challenge in her eyes.
Happy now?
The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.
Very…Do you want to see what I’m wearing?
