16

When I walk into the kitchen the next morning, I’m greeted with Drew standing at the stove in a T-shirt and gym shorts, his back to me as he cooks. Everyone else is up and milling around at the small dining table and the kitchen island in their pajamas.

I fall onto a stool, my legs and my brain still groggy. Despite the sleep fog I’m fighting, I’m tingling in Drew’s presence. Even though he’s standing a few feet away and not looking at me, just being in the same room has my entire body on high alert. Every part of me, from the goose bumps on my skin to the pulse between my legs, remembers what his sexy texts did to me last night.

I shove the thought aside while I try to focus on the chatter around me. Wyatt is on the phone with, I assume, his mom, judging by his irritated tone and the fact that he’s talking about rosaries and Hail Marys.

“I promise I’m being careful.” He tosses his head back and slouches in his chair at the dining table. “Yes, I have a snakebite kit, just in case. Yes, I have sunscreen. Yes, tell Lolo I always have at least a half tank of gas so I don’t get stranded in the middle of the desert and die.” There’s a long pause. “Of course I’m saying the rosary! I say it every day! Well then, you say it for me if I’m not doing it enough times.”

I bite back a laugh as I down a glass of water that Haley sets in front of me. I thank her for the cup of coffee she deposits right after. I catch Rylan smiling down at her phone as she texts. She must be talking to Colton.

Out of the corner of my eye I watch as Haley looks at me, then at Drew, then at me again. I roll my eyes.

While drinking, I inhale the aroma of whatever scrumptious dish Drew is whipping up at the stove. I smile at Joe, who’s FaceTiming with his kindergarten-age son and girlfriend.

His son holds up a sheet of paper that he painted on at school.

“Wow, way to go, pal! That looks just like me.”

I beam wide while holding back an “aww” sound. Joe’s little guy sports a wide grin and a mass of long blond hair, which is tied back into a bun, just like Joe’s.

“Have a good day at school. I’ll call you again tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy!”

Joe’s son makes a kissing noise, and Joe makes one in return before they end the call.

“Your son looks just like you,” I say to him.

He beams at his phone screen while closing out of the app. “He’s way cuter, though.”

“My ovaries are exploding over here, Joe,” Haley says as she tops off her coffee. “Your son is the cutest and your family should be in a commercial; you’re so perfect. And that’s coming from a stone-cold workaholic who never, ever wants to have kids.”

Joe blushes at Haley’s words. “I’m a pretty lucky guy.”

Just then Drew spins around. “Who’s hungry?”

“Smile, Drew!” Rylan says from the dining table while she aims her phone at him.

Drew grins, and she takes a photo.

“I’m posting this to your Twitter and Instagram right now,” she says.

“You’re a social media wizard, Rylan,” Drew says as he grabs some plates from the nearby cupboard.

When everyone on the crew decided that Drew taking over as host was a go, establishing a social media presence for him was the next most important item on our collective to-do list. Rylan offered to run the accounts for him, which I was more than happy to let her do. Given she’s ten years younger than the rest of us thirty-somethings, she’s more social-media savvy than anyone else.

Rylan shrugs at Drew’s compliment as if to brush it off, but the smile on her face remains. “Your accounts are already a few thousand followers strong.”

“Wow, that’s amazing, Rylan,” I say. “I shouldn’t be surprised, though. You have a Twitter and Instagram following that’s in the thousands.”

She squints down at her phone screen. “I can only take partial credit. Drew, you’re still trending in New York from that subway gentleman hashtag from weeks ago. Whoever did that deserves credit too.”

I hide behind my mug of coffee while taking a long sip. It’s better if the crew doesn’t find out about how I creeped on Drew. Haley is the only person who knows, and when I told her about my history with him at the beginning of this shoot, I swore her to secrecy.

Drew’s eyes cut to me, the smile on his face taking on a deviant edge. “I definitely owe that person a big thanks.”

“What’s for breakfast?” Wyatt asks from the table, through a yawn, while running a hand through his floppy jet-black hair.

“Eggs Benedict,” Drew says.

My stomach does ten somersaults in the second that he makes eye contact with me. In this shared space where we have minimal privacy, Drew found a way to make the morning after our text shenanigans special for the two of us even though we can’t be alone. My heart flutters. This is one of the sweetest—and most creative—things someone has ever done for me.

“Eggs Benedict sounds yummy,” I say.

Drew spins around, a prepared plate in hand. He sets a plate of English muffins, Canadian bacon, poached eggs, and hollandaise sauce in front of me.

His eyebrow lifts the tiniest bit, a gentle gleam in his eye. “I heard this was your favorite.”

“It is.”

I break the perfectly poached egg yolk with my fork. The bright-yellow liquid spills down the plate. My mouth waters, and not just for the food.

When I take a bite, I hum quietly to myself. It’s the perfect bite of richness and fattiness from the egg and sauce, saltiness from the bacon, and carby goodness from the toasted English muffin.

“Damn, Drew,” Wyatt moans from the table. Rylan nods along while chewing.

“You think you can work as my personal chef?” Wyatt jokes. “I can’t afford to pay you a proper salary, but I can pay you in Hail Marys.”

We all laugh with our mouths full.

Drew takes a bite from his own plate while leaning against the granite kitchen island. He chuckles, then swallows, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I don’t know.” He looks at me. “I’m already gainfully employed. Gotta check with the boss to see if she’s interested in giving me up.”

There’s the slightest lift of his brow as he gazes at me. His hazel-brown eyes pin me from above the rim of his orange juice glass as he takes a sip.

“Not a chance,” I say, the slightest hint of a growl in my voice that is thankfully subtle enough that I’m sure no one picked up on—other than Drew, judging by the way his eyes dazzle.

I turn to Wyatt. “He’s too good of a field coordinator. Sorry, Wyatt.”

Everyone chuckles. As I finish my breakfast, I admire just how well Drew has managed to fit in with the crew. He’s only known us for weeks and yet he jokes and chats with everyone like they’ve been friends for years. But he’s not just a charmer—he’s a genuinely good person with a work ethic that meshes amazingly with every member of this crew. And I feel lucky to be with him.

We finish eating, then run through the plans for the day. Joe and Wyatt are filming landscape shots of Bryce Canyon. Haley and Rylan will assist them.

Haley mentions going over the script for the rest of the Bryce and the Capitol Reef shoots when they’re back from filming landscape shots, but I shake my head. “I can do that. I’ll be stuck at the computer answering emails and reviewing footage anyway. No sense in bogging you down with that,” I say. “You guys should all go out and unwind a little when you wrap up. Explore the tiny towns around here, come back to the condo and take a nap, whatever you want.”

Everyone’s faces perk up except for Haley’s. “You sure? That means you’ll be stuck here all day staring at your laptop.”

“She’ll have help,” Drew says from the kitchen sink. He turns around and smooths a hand over the rumpled white T-shirt that’s clinging quite nicely to his chest. “I’ll be working next to her the whole day.”

The corner of Haley’s mouth quirks up. “You two, always working so hard. I’m sure you’ll make the best of it.”

No one else seems to notice the undertone of Haley’s comment because they’re all rinsing their dishes or walking away to their rooms.

Haley is the last to leave the kitchen, but not before winking at me while Drew is turned around loading the dishes into the dishwasher. I walk up to him and he turns to me, then takes a step forward so that we’re nearly touching.

He reaches a hand to my face and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Excited to work hard with you today, Dunn. Extra, extra hard.”

A sheet of goose bumps flies across my skin. It’s just a few seconds of contact, but I can’t help it. Every bit of Drew I can get—his words, his breakfast, his knowing eye contact, his smiles—is enough to send me into a flutter every single time.

“Especially after last night,” he whispers. “We’re going to have an empty condo. Just you and me—finally.”

I go breathless at the memory. “You better be excited. Because once our work is finished and everyone is gone, I’m expecting you to live out exactly what you described to me in those texts you sent last night.”

His brow lifts slightly. “You’re willing to throw out the ‘nothing happens in Bryce’ rule you were so adamant about last week? You have a weak resolve, Dunn.”

“I tried. I really, really did.” I tug at the hem of his shirt, breathless. “I can’t help it. You bring out the naughty rule breaker in me.”

That cheeky smile tugs at his lips once more. “Let the rule breaking begin.”

---

•   •   •

Working side by side with Drew all morning and afternoon has garnered us impressive results. My inbox count is down to three and we’re nearly finished going through the scripts for the remaining episodes.

My phone buzzes with a text from Wyatt.

Wyatt: Just wrapped. Sure you guys don’t want to join us?

Me: No, you go without us. We’ve still got some edits to the script we’re working on.

Wyatt: Don’t work too hard.

Drew squints at his laptop as he sits across from me at the kitchen table. “Do I have to say, ‘For bonus footage, check out our website’ at the end of the episode?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s kind of . . . unexciting.”

I lightly kick his chair. He chuckles and holds both hands up. “It’s not an insult to your script writing, I swear.”

I narrow my gaze at him in mock annoyance. “What would you rather say?”

“How about, ‘Explore even more by visiting our website for bonus footage’?”

“That’s cute. Catchy. It even rhymes. Sure, go with that.”

He grins and types quickly on his laptop. “We make a hell of a team, Dunn.”

“We do.”

Collaborating with Drew makes me feel even more confident about the series.

And even if all we do for the rest of the day is work, I’d be one hundred percent content. Because no matter what I’m doing with Drew—flirting, working, fooling around, riding in the car, eating breakfast—it’s always the best. Because it’s with him.

My phone rings with an incoming FaceTime call. When I see it’s my mom calling, I tell Drew to wait just a second.

I answer and see her and Dad sitting next to each other on their living room couch, smiling. They greet me at the same time.

“Hi, anak!”

“Hi, honeybun!”

“Hey. Great to see you, guys.”

“I know you’re busy working, anak, but we just wanted to say a quick hi.”

Then in their signature adorable style, they ask a bunch of questions in a row without waiting for me to answer.

“How are things going for you?”

“Is the weather holding out? Have you had to use that rain gear I sent you?”

“You’re getting enough sleep, right, anak?”

“Did you get the extended travel insurance like I recommended, honey?”

I bite back a groan and keep smiling. I have the best, most supportive parents in the world, but they always insist on FaceTiming together and talking at the same time, making it nearly impossible to have a clear conversation.

“Things are good. The weather has been mild so far, perfect for filming. Yes, I’m getting enough sleep. And I didn’t need the extra travel insurance, Dad. Work covered everything.”

They both mention again how proud they are of me for working on my first series.

“I told all the ladies in my aerobics class about my brilliant daughter’s amazing new show and they can’t wait to watch it, anak.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

“Apong would be so happy and proud to know that you’re filming in Utah. She had so much fun taking you kids on that road trip when you were little. She talked about that vacation all the time.”

My chest warms at just how proud and happy she sounds. Dad nods along.

“You’re going to knock this series out of the park, honeybun,” Dad says. “This is gonna be the first of so many big hits for you, I just know it.”

I hold in the surprise dedication for Apong Lita that I plan to air with the Needles episodes. I’m dying to tell them, but I know that it’ll be a million times more impactful if they see the dedication when they’re watching the actual show.

Seeing their excitement has me the tiniest bit more hopeful. If this series goes well, I’ll be one step closer to hopefully someday filming a travel series in the Philippines—that would be another surprise for my family. I take a quiet second and wish as hard as I can that this all works out and that someday I can make my island getaway series a reality.

“You’re eating enough too, right, anak? And sleeping? Do you need me to mail you a care package of vitamins and snacks? I used to do that for you when you went off to college, remember?”

“Promise I’m doing just fine, Mom.”

Off to the side, Drew laughs quietly.

“Is someone there with you?” she asks.

“Oh, um, yeah.” I pivot the phone slightly so they can see him. “This is Drew; he’s the field coordinator on the crew. He’s amazing.”

I bite my tongue as soon as those final two words go tumbling out of my mouth. I can tell by the way Mom’s thick and shapely eyebrows raise that she’s caught on to the something extra that rests in my tone when I talk about Drew.

His cheeks are pink as he smiles and tells my parents how nice it is to meet them.

“Your daughter has been a pleasure to work with. The whole crew loves her.”

They beam at his praise.

“She gets her work ethic from her mom and her good looks from me,” Dad jokes as he points to his short-buzzed gray hair.

Mom swipes her long, wavy, black hair over one shoulder and laughs as she pats Dad’s arm. “Ay, you stop. We both know she looks like me. Her dark hair, those brown eyes, that nose, her tan. That’s all me.”

“Thank goodness.” Dad pulls her close and plants a kiss on her cheek.

“Sorry about them,” I whisper to Drew as Mom and Dad playfully bicker about who’s the lucky one in their marriage.

Drew shakes his head, still grinning. “It’s all good.”

“Okay, Mom. Dad. Great to chat with you, but we’ve got a ton of work to get through still.”

“Of course, anak. You stay safe, okay? And don’t forget to take a break soon. You work so hard, you’ll burn yourself out if you’re not careful. So nice to meet you, Drew!”

Drew says likewise, and we all say good-bye.

“You look just like your mom,” Drew says as I put away my phone.

“Everyone says that whenever they see us. It’s my favorite compliment.”

I reach my hands up and stretch, groaning softly as I will my stiff body to loosen. My phone buzzes with a text.

Mom: Wow, Drew is so handsome!! Is he single?

I roll my eyes and shove my phone across the table. Out of the corner of my eye I see Drew pop out of his chair and walk over to me. Then he leans down and wraps his arms around me from behind, nuzzling against the side of my neck. A million goose bumps flash across my skin.

“Your mom’s right. We deserve a break. We worked pretty hard today,” he growls softly before pressing a teasing kiss to my bare shoulder.

“Okay.” The word falls out like a gasp as he kisses along that sensitive spot of my skin where my neck meets my shoulder.

He’s kicked things off by kissing that spot the last few times we’ve fooled around. I’m impressed that he’s committed it to memory already.

He runs his hands along the sides of my body slowly, firmly. When I turn my head to the side, he captures my mouth in his before I can utter a breath or a word. I run my hand roughly through his hair as our tongues tangle wildly. We stay that way—our mouths glued together, handsy as hell—until Drew pulls my chair back and pulls away from me long enough to scoop me up. I let out a high-pitched squeal, giggling as he marches me quickly to my room down the hall.

He kicks the door shut; then he sets me on the bed, his eyes glimmering with anticipation. “I’m gonna need you naked, Dunn. Now.”

“That goes double for you, Irons.”

We break into identical grins as we quickly undress.

“I’ll never get tired of looking at you,” I say, my eyes glued to his Adonis belt.

Then Drew leans down and tilts my head up to look at him with his finger under my chin. “I was just about to say the same thing to you.” He ends it with a kiss that sends my heart racing and my breath fleeting.

“How do you want me?” I ask, chest heaving.

“On the bed. On your hands and knees. Facing the wall. Please.”

I’m grinning like a madwoman as I maneuver myself on the bed according to his request. A beat later when I’m in position, I feel it. The softness of his lips against the back of my left thigh. He skims slowly, softly up my leg, his hot, wet breath hitting right between my legs, in that spot I want him the most. But instead of giving it to me, his mouth lands at the top of my right thigh, just below my ass cheek. There’s a soft scrape that leaves me gasping, then another soft kiss against my skin. He moves down my thigh, then back up; then he’s back between my legs, his breath wetting my skin.

“Please, Drew,” I whine, my arms shaky as I struggle to hold myself up while those tingles of pleasure make their way inside me.

He grunts behind me and then I feel it—that exquisite softness of his tongue as he makes contact.

My jaw drops and my eyes press shut. It is so, so good.

I gasp. “Fuck, Drew. That’s—”

The slam of the front door of the condo jolts me. My eyelids fly open. Drew pulls away and I turn my head around so I can look at him. I start to ask him what that sound was, but then there’s a shout.

“Hold on, man! It’s gonna be okay!” Joe’s voice booms behind the door.

There’s the sound of heavy footsteps, then banging at my bedroom door. “Alia! Alia, are you in there?”

I shoot up, kneeling on the bed. Then I glance at Drew. Then I glance at the door.

Shit.

Drew’s eyes go wide as he stares at me while kneeling buck naked on the floor. I jump up and run to my bedroom door.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” I ask.

“We need the first-aid kit,” Joe says, his tone breathless and panicky from behind the door. “You have it, right? We can’t find it anywhere, and I think Wyatt is having an allergic reaction.”

Joe babbles something about Wyatt downing a drink that must have had vodka in it and how he started having trouble breathing as they pulled into the condo parking lot. The hair on my arms stands on end. Wyatt is allergic to vodka.

“His entire face is turning red,” Joe says, his voice pitchy with panic. “He’s got hives on his chest and he’s struggling to breathe . . . or maybe his throat is closing. I—I don’t know . . .”

The sound of muffled voices follows.

“There’s an EpiPen in the first aid kit, right?” Joe asks me through the door. “I thought you said there was.”

“Shit,” I mutter to myself. “There is, but . . . You’re sure the kit wasn’t in the van?” I could have sworn I left it in Wyatt’s car. That’s where I’ve always kept it. Unless I messed up something . . .

“We looked everywhere,” Joe says, interrupting my frenzied train of thought. “When you didn’t answer your phone, I tried calling Drew to ask him if he knew, but he didn’t answer.”

My eyes cut to Drew, who’s tugging both of his hands through his hair, his face twisted in bewilderment. He starts shaking his head and mutters the word “shit,” but I put my finger over my mouth.

“Quiet!” I silently mouth to Drew before turning back to the door. “Yeah, um, Drew went out. For . . . supplies.”

There’s the sound of footsteps fading away from the door, then Joe’s voice. I think he’s in the living room now judging by how far away it sounds.

Out of the corner of my eye, Drew’s brow flies up.

“Supplies? What does that even mean?” he whispers.

I hold my hand up at him. Behind the door there’s a thudding sound.

“Get him on the couch,” Haley says. “Lay him down.”

I throw my shirt and yoga pants back on, then turn my bedroom upside down searching for the first-aid kit.

“I’m looking for the kit!” I yell, hoping they can hear me in the living room. “You need to go out the window,” I whisper to Drew as I crawl on the floor and search under my bed.

“What?” he whisper-shouts. “Alia, you can’t be serious.”

I whip my head up to look at him. “I am serious. Look, there’s a balcony outside my window that’s, like, six feet above ground. You can jump that, right?”

He opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “They can’t see you in my bedroom, not like this. Just jump out, get dressed, and then walk in the house. It’ll be fine.”

He frowns, his chest heaving with a breath. Then he nods. “Fine.”

He yanks on his boxer briefs, grabs his jeans and T-shirt, and opens up the sliding door, shutting it behind him quietly.

My head spins as the seconds pass, and I still come up empty-handed. Then I flip open one of my suitcases and see the first-aid kit tucked underneath a bunch of my clothes. I must have been in such a hurry when packing in Moab that I absentmindedly shoved it in my luggage.

“I found it!” I yell before flinging open my bedroom door and sprinting out to the living room. Wyatt lies on the couch, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. Haley is crouched on the floor holding his hand while Rylan stands behind him, phone in hand, eyes wide with horror.

“Should I call 911?” Rylan asks, her voice shaky.

“No, I’ve got this!” I yell. “The EpiPen! I have it!” I fall to the floor, and Haley scoots to the side. “It’ll take too long to wait for an ambulance to get here. Joe, help me get his jeans off. I need to give him the shot in his thigh.”

Joe nods frantically while pulling off Wyatt’s pants and yanking up his boxers.

I zero in on the bare patch of Wyatt’s tan skin. With my heart thudding in my ears, I look at the pen in my fist and repeat the instructions I memorized when I bought the pen for this trip.

“Blue to the sky, orange to the thigh. Blue to the sky, orange to the thigh.”

I look at the pen in my shaky hand once more to make sure I’ve got it positioned correctly with the blue end up and the orange end pointed toward Wyatt’s leg. Closing my fist around it, I stab the orange needle end into Wyatt’s thigh and press it there for ten seconds. I hold my breath, staring at Wyatt, his eyes fading, his breaths shallow. But then after a few seconds, he starts to blink rapidly. His breathing evens out.

“Damn,” he rasps, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. Then the corner of his mouth twitches up. His brown eyes go from cloudy to clear. “Thanks, Alia.”

I let out a breath and clutch a hand over my chest. Joe mutters, “Holy shit”; Haley says, “Oh my God”; and Rylan falls to the floor on her knees, cupping her face in her hands.

Haley wraps an arm around her. “I’ll go grab an ice pack from the freezer on the back deck,” Haley says. “To help him cool down.”

Rylan jolts up, a dazed look clouding her normally vibrant face. “It’s okay. I’ll get it.”

She slips out the sliding glass door. Joe leans down, his eyes watery, and pats Wyatt’s leg. “You gave us a scare, man.”

Color flushes back to Wyatt’s cheeks. He still sports that dazed look in his eyes, but his breathing is even now. He reaches up to pat Joe’s arm. “No more homemade cocktails for me.”

Joe shakes his head, cursing. “That fucking guy. We even told him you were allergic to vodka. He swore it was gin in the bottle. I knew we shouldn’t have bought anything from that roadside stand.”

I whip my head to Wyatt. “You bought alcohol from a roadside stand?”

Wyatt shrugs. “It was cheap. The guy was selling two-dollar flasks of cocktails. How could I say no to that?”

“Rylan and I told you guys it was a bad idea,” Haley says as she readjusts to sit cross-legged on the hardwood floor. “But no. You had to buy cheap cocktails from a guy who was operating out of his van, clearly baked out of his mind.”

I groan, then shake my head. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I let out a laugh of disbelief, then fall from my knees to my ass. My legs are as heavy as cement now that the adrenaline rush is over.

“Thanks for not calling an ambulance.” Wyatt winces as he rubs his thigh where I injected him. “You saved me thousands of dollars in medical bills.”

I toss the EpiPen at him, annoyed but relieved. “You and your mom need to say a few more rosaries, praying for intelligence for you. Because holy hell, buying alcohol from the side of the road has got to be the most—”

Rylan’s scream interrupts me. All four of us whip our heads in the direction of the sliding glass door, where she walked out just a minute ago. Joe, Haley, and I jump up and run out the door; then all our jaws promptly drop at the sight.

There’s Drew, standing in the backyard of our condo rental, wearing only his boxer briefs.