Wicked & Wildflower (Pacific Shores, #2)

by Sarah A. Bailey

If you continue to bother her, I’m gonna make sure I know about it, in which case, I’m going to be a lot less fuc...

“Who are you?” he gasps between choking breaths. I smile. “I’m her boyfriend....

have things to discuss, Dahlia,” he mutters without making eye contact with either of us. “No, we don’t.” Her voice is soft and timid. She’s scared.

“Why would you corner me here and not at the house?”

“I did, but you weren’t there. I knew that bastard owned a business somewhere in this town. Figured I’d take a look around until I found you.”

“If by ‘that bastard’ you’re referring to my brother, I’d think twice before opening your fucking mouth again.”

“You know what we need to discuss. If you’d picked up my phone calls, it wouldn’t have escalated to this. I don’t fly out until tomorrow afternoon. I’m going to call you later, and I suggest you answer.”

“I’d prefer not to return to this fucking town, but I will get what you owe me.”

“And to think, I tried to play ni...

“You’re Darby’s sister.”

“You’re Leo’s brother,”

“Well, fuck.”

There’s that string I was looking ...

“This’ll be your office once you start, so I thought you’d like to see what it looks like. You know, so you can start visualizing how you’ll want to decorate and whatnot.” Her brows raise. “But… isn’t this your office?”

“Yeah. But we’ve only got two private spaces in this building, and Leo’s office is here too. I have a second office at the auto shop, so I can start using that one full time and just come down here for meetings.” “I hate to kick you out of your space.”

“Don’t worry ab...

“I’ll walk you to your car, cariño.”

It appears the only men my father seems to be intimidated by are the ones Darby and I are dating.”

“Happy to be of service.”

She raises her head, appreciation shining in the raging sea of her gaze. And fuck, if that look doesn’t do something to my chest. “Thank you,” she whispers.

The smile she gives me is midnight in comparison to the way her face brightens at that voice. She lights up in a way that’s only possible when a mother hears her child call out for her, an expression I’m sure has never graced my own mother’s face at the sound of mine or my sister’s voice.

“It’s good to see you again, Wildflower.” He leans against the door frame leading to the kitchen and crosses his ankles as he smirks at me.

“Wildflower?”

“I mean, your name’s Dahlia, is it not?”

don’t think dahlias are categorized as wildflowers. They’re a bit more curated. Proper.”

“Doesn’t fit you at all then, does it? Wildflower is much better.”

“What? Like a...

“I was thinking of something more like colorful. Bright. Resilient. Sprouting up in the places you least expect them and blowing away on the wind just as quickly.” That wicked smile morphs into a full grin. “Beautiful too, of course.”

“Dios mío, hijo. ¿Eres capaz de mantener una conversación con alguien que no consista en coquetear?”

“Tranquila, mamá. Ahora mismo me estás arruinando el juego.”

“Deja en paz a la pobre chica. Ella no es una de tus conquistas.

“I’m sorry my son has no self-control. That’s a trait from his father.” I can’t help the l...

you’re going to bully me, I’m not staying for dinner.” “Yes, you will. I’m making pesto from scratch. Your father would take out your eyes and make you eat those if he found I made your favorite meal and you bailed on it.”

“Speaking of fathers, tell him to get the hell out of my shop and enjoy his retirement. My workers will never take me seriously if they think they’re still supposed to be answering to him.”

“He’s never going to fully let go of that shop, baby. You know that. He will, however, lose his own eyeballs if he doesn’t make it home for dinner soon.”

“He was working on Mr. Michaelson’s old Beetle when I left, but he promised he’d be home ...

his perfectly manicured beard, and I can almost feel the way his stubble brushed against my chest.

Chills rush down my spine again, and I catch the tilt of his lips as he watches me shake them off. It’s as if he can read my mind, see the moment replaying in it.

“Mom?” I know my face takes on the same expression Monica’s did earlier as I turn around and soak in those freckled cheeks, green eyes, and strawberry-blonde locks. “Hi, bug.” I open my arms as Lou walks into me, and I snuggle her against my chest.

“Did you have fun today?”

“Lucille, can you say hi to Everett?

“It’s nice to meet you, Lucille.”

“That’s a beautiful name. Does anyone ever call you Lucy?”

“Monica calls me Lucy. My Aunt Darby calls me Lulu.” She glances at me. “My mom calls me Lou.”

“You have a lot of nicknames, don’t you?”

you have any nicknames?”

“Nope, I’m not a big fan of nicknames. There are no good ones for the name Everett.”

“I’ll think of one. Everyone should have a nickname.” “Maybe I’ll have to make a ne...

“She looks like you,” he says. “Thank you,”

“You ready to go, kid?”