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“For future reference, if you’ve got to fake your pool skills—or anything else, really—in order to accommodate a man, he’s probably a waste of your time.” She hums. “And what are your pool skills like?” I slowly raise one brow at her. “You wanna find out?”
“No names. Nothing that can tie us together later. You’re hot, I need to get laid, and I’m assuming you won’t complain about that offer. So, we can fuck, but I don’t want to know you.”
She’s just…so pretty. Unbelievably so.
She wanted to fuck and forget, but that woman was anything but forgettable. I don’t even know her name. She’d claimed she wanted nothing that could tie us together, but now, I’m wishing more than anything I had something that would.
“Do we have a problem here?” I recognize that voice too. But right now, it feels more like a beacon than a curse. Tattooed arms crossed against his chest, stretching his black T-shirt tight. Quiet rage simmers behind those brown eyes as they soak in the scene around us. I’m thankful the store was at least empty, but I’m humiliated that he’s witnessing it. The man from the bar, who’s looking at the grip around my arm with enough heat to melt through iron. “Get your fucking hand off her.”
It sends me into a tailspin, and before I fully understand my actions, I’m on the other side of the room with the asshole shoved against the wall and my elbow on his throat. The piece of shit would be half my size on a good day, and the way he looks up at me with hatred in his stare tells me he’s well aware of it too. His skin flushes red as I cut off his oxygen, and bloodshot eyes move from me to the woman standing behind me. “Don’t look at her. Look at me.”
“You’re never going to speak about her like that again. I don’t want to hear Dahlia’s name out of your mouth. 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 fucking polite. Are we understood?” “Who are you?” he gasps between choking breaths. I smile. “I’m her boyfriend. Who the fuck are you?”
“I knew that bastard owned a business somewhere in this town. Figured I’d take a look around until I found you.” I chuckle. “If by ‘that bastard’ you’re referring to my brother, I’d think twice before opening your fucking mouth again.”
“You’re Darby’s sister.” It’s not a question. She finally lifts her head, and all I see is the color blue. “You’re Leo’s brother,” she says quietly. I nod. “Well, fuck.” I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. There’s that string I was looking for, I guess.
I’ve done a decent job over the last two weeks trying to forget the fact that the stranger who unraveled me in a bar happens to be my brother-in-law’s brother. I’ve fought harder to forget that he’s the son of the only friend I’ve made in town. The friend who was babysitting my child while her own kid railed me against a door. The friend who set me up on the date with the man I bailed on so I could fuck my brother-in-law…in-law? In a bar. What a cluster.
“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?”
Said phase allows me hours to stare at Chris Evans, though, so I can’t complain.
shoulders, flashing that mischievous smile. “Goodnight, Wildflower.”
The way he looks at me takes my breath away, and I have to remind myself where I am. Who I am. I’m no longer just a girl in a bar. He’s no longer just a guy. We’ll never get to be those two people again. I swallow, reaching for my door handle and slamming it shut. Everett quickly steps out of the way before I can crush his fingers. I hear him laughing through the closed door. He stands on the curb, watching me drive away until I’m completely out of sight.
“How’d you know it was me?” “I know your voice, cariño.” “What does that mean? Cariño.” She’s practically purring through the phone, and my morning wood does not need the reminder of the way her tongue can roll. “Dear. Darling. Sweetheart. Whatever you want it to, really.”
“How about you just call me by my name instead?” “Okay, Wildflower.” I smile. “What’s going on?”
“What I did with you at Emilio’s was not something I’ve ever done with anyone else before.” “Me either,” she whispers. “I know.” I set my coffee on the kitchen counter and kick my hip against it, crossing my arms. “Plus, if it makes you feel better, since I know you’re definitely jealous.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Most people only go after me because they think it’ll get them closer to Leo.”
Something about Dahlia makes me feel safe, though. Maybe it’s because I know she’s one person who would never use me for that reason, even if I only know that because her sister is engaged to him.
“Yeah… There isn’t always logic in their actions, but honestly, it happens a lot more often with the men I date. They think if they get with me, they can befriend Leo, that Leo will offer them some kind of connection to his world.” A surprise look flashes across her face, but I can tell she quickly tries to settle it. “You didn’t know I was bisexual, did you?”
She smiles to herself. “So, are you telling me I’m going to be running into not only other women you’ve fucked, but potentially some daddies too?”
I want her to be jealous. I know it’s messed up, and I don’t know what it is about her that makes me feel this way, but I want to know she’s bothered by the thought of me with anyone else. Then, I want to tell her she has nothing to worry about because if she said the word right now, I’d be on my knees for her and her alone.
“Something has to be in it for me?” He crosses his arms. “She looks excited. It’s the same excitement Leo and I used to have in our eyes when we were two poor, good-for-nothing kids running amok around town and wishing we had boards we could ride waves with.” He nods in Lou’s direction, and we both turn our heads to look at her skipping around the back corner of the store. “That kind of reaction is exactly the reason we opened this place, the joy we want to spread to anyone willing to accept it. So…that’s what I get out of it. The smile on the face of a kid who just discovered how great it
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“¿De repente tus brazos dejaron de funcionar? ¿Ya no eres capaz de ponerte tu propio protector solar?” Monica asks with a knowing tone.
“You’ll need to stop looking at me like that, Wildflower.” He smirks. “Looking at you like what?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. I’m looking at him like I’m hungry. Because I am. “Like you’ve seen me naked. Like you wish you could see it all again.” I bite my lip and glance away, willing myself to remember all the reasons I made him promise that we’d never cross that line again. “I didn’t know you could speak Italian.” What a stupid fucking thing to say. I nearly wince at myself. His laugh rakes along my skin. “Bella, ti parlerò in qualunque lingua tu mi dica se questo ti farà
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“I’m on my way home. To your brother’s house.” She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Where I am living. Because he’s marrying my sister.” She spins to face me. “Your mother is my only friend. My life is a mess. My estranged father is stalking me. I’m basically homeless.” She throws her hands up. “Not to mention, my daughter really likes you. I don’t let men meet her. Ever. Because if there is one thing I know with certainty, it’s that my flings never work out. I won’t do that to her. Or Darby. Or Leo. Or Monica. It’s too much.” She breaks her gaze from mine, as if rethinking everything she just
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“I understand your fears. I respect your boundaries.” Her face softens at that. “But just…if you forgot about all the other bullshit for just a second. You’re just you. I’m just me…” I slowly reach out and brush her hair from her shoulder.
“I wish I could,” she whispers. “But I don’t have that luxury. That night was all I had. I don’t have the option to just forget who I am and lean into feeling.” “I know.” I nod. I brush my thumb across the pulse in her neck. “Just know that it’s killing me. If nothing else, if it can’t be acted on, know that I wish it could…” I pause, trying to find the right words. “If you change your mind, I want you to know that I’m not afraid of complicated, and I won’t hurt Lou. Ever.”
She’s decided we’ll never be more than this: longing looks and daydreams. I don’t think it’s just because she’s afraid of her daughter being hurt. I think it’s because she’s afraid of hurting herself. Of being abandoned. Of not being enough for someone, not worthy of the love she so badly wants to receive but refuses to let herself have.
“I won’t change my mind,” she whispers. It’s a cool challenge I see on her face now.
“Then you better stop looking at me like you’ve been wandering the desert for forty days and forty nights, and I’m the mirage of an oasis. Like you’re dying of thirst and I’m the body of water you want to drown yourself in.” I give her a slow smile. “Because I want to drown myself in you, too, Wildflower.”
“The fact that I’m staring at your lips right now and knowing I’ll never feel them again… It’s breaking my heart, Wildflower.” “Don’t flirt with me.” I tsk, giving her a smirk. “Telling me not to flirt with you is like telling me not to breathe around you. It’s biological, written in my DNA. It sustains my life source.”
“Taking a night off does not make you a bad mother. Going on a date does not make you a bad mother. Having casual, consensual sex does not make you a bad mother. You are wonderful to that girl, and anyone with eyes and a functioning brain stem would be able to see that. You’re allowed to be a human being, Dahlia. You are not exclusively tied to that title. You can be a woman. Have a career. Hobbies. Be a friend and a sister. You’re entitled to all of those things—to having an identity outside of Lou’s mother. There is nothing wrong with that.” The near-setting sun casts Everett’s face in a
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“How can I prove to you that it is?” I almost say it then, almost open my mouth and tell him that when I met him, he made me feel like a woman. He made me feel desirable, wild, and free.
the person I’d always dreamed I’d be before I saw those two little pink lines while sitting on the bathroom floor. Oh, how badly I want to be that woman again. How I wish I could take surf lessons. Play pool. Drive an impractical car with no ...
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saying. “Let me prove it to you anyway.” “Everett.” I shake my head. “It’s not about any of that. That’s not why I wanted to talk to you.” “I know. You want me to pretend to date you when there are cameras around my brother to threaten your father, to help give the appearance you’re providing your daughter with a stable environment and a supportive male role model.” “Yes.” “Great. Can do,” he says immediately, as if requiring no further explanation on the matter. “But I’m also going to take you on dates. I’m gonna show you that you can be so much more than just her mother. You can be yourself
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“Because I want to,”
We continue toward the pier, though this time, instead of his hand at my back, he simply twines his fingers through my own.
“You’re a good fucking mom, Dahlia. But you don’t need to be all alone in order to be a good mom. I just hope you figure that out eventually.”
“I hope I figure it out too.” I lift my head to meet his gaze. “I hope you realize that you have a lot to offer, and that you have value regardless of what your siblings—or anyone else—do with their lives. I hope you figure out your worth.” He smiles softly. “Yeah, me too.”
Nothing about what happened between us was meaningless—even if we intended it to be. For me, it happened before I ever learned her name. She’d taken root in my mind the second she sat down next to me at that bar. After that night, all I could think about was how badly I wished there was some way I could find her again. If I could locate the tiniest thread between us, I’d hold on with everything I had until she was pulled into my life again.
I’m entirely caught up in her, entwined, and I don’t want to be untangled.
For the first time, I realize that I don’t want to leave Dahlia before she notices that. I just want to figure out a way to be enough for her.
Somehow, touching her makes everything a little easier. Looking at her makes me feel better. Speaking with her makes the weight lighter. All she has to do is exist, and I feel like I’m going to be all right.
hands—it feels as if all the fear and grief and stress in our lives melts away. We spin on the dance floor in momentary peace, and I can’t ignore the fact that this doesn’t feel fake at all.
I savor this moment because I love the way he feels. He touches me like he’s cherishing me, and God knows I’m fucking starved for it.
“So, it’s a no, then?” Everett’s face softens, and those eyes burn right through me, as if he can read every thought in my head and every expression on my face. “Of course not. You know I’ll paint myself green for that kid if she asks me to.”
This shouldn’t be such a big deal to me, and I don’t want anyone seeing the emotion on my face, seeing the effect those words—that care for her—has on me.
I’ll put my heart out on my sleeve—in the palm of my hand—for her if it means she’s going to blush and smile at me like that.
