Wicked & Wildflower (Pacific Shores, #2)

by Sarah A. Bailey

Fake. Nothing about tonight—the way I acted, the way I felt—was fake or forced. “It has nothing to do with our arrangement, Wildflower.” I find myself rounding the kitchen island, closing the space between us. “I care about Lou,” I say, towering over her now. “I care about you. I want you to understand…” I sigh, slowly lifting my hand and tucking a piece of wild hair behind her ear. “Regardless of this arrangement, no matter how long it lasts, I’m gonna be here. For her. For both of you.”

“You’re so beautiful, Dal. All the time. When you’re done up and when you’re dressed down. In the middle of the night and in the light of day. God”—he laughs breathlessly—“you’re fucking stunning, including when you’re coming. I’ve been blessed to see it, so trust me when I say that.”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” He sits up straighter, as if he wishes he could reach through the phone and grab my face, force my focus to his eyes. “It is infuriating to me how blind you are to your own beauty.” I drop my gaze to the floor, feeling the flush run up my neck. “Look at me, Dahlia.” He doesn’t speak again until I listen. “I’m going to make sure you understand how pretty I find you. Every single piece of you. Every part of your body that made you who you are. All of it is beautiful to me.”

“When I tell you how beautiful you are, you’re not going to argue with me about it. You’re going to thank me, and you’re going to fucking listen. Am I understood?”

I try not to be ashamed of my body. I mean, it made an entire human fucking being. But at the end of the day, you don’t see stretch marks, cellulite, or misshapen boobs on models. You don’t see it on perfect people like my sister, or I’m sure any number of the women Everett’s been with. But when I do look at him again, it’s pure captivation I see on his face.

“Dahlia,” he rasps, eyes meeting mine. “I speak three fucking languages—three—and when I tell you that there is not one word in any of them to describe the way you look right now. You’re beyond beauty. You’re beyond comparison to anything in this plane of existence. You’re something beyond comprehension. Unreal.”

“Someday, I’m going to make that happen,” she murmurs under breath. “Make what happen?” I ask. She starts, as if she hadn’t realized she said it out loud. Shaking off the surprise, she sighs. “I’m going to buy myself an impractical car I can drive just for fun. Something with no top. No child safety features. Something that doesn’t need to accommodate anyone but myself.”

“Your mother is the most beautiful person in the world, Luz. That was a compliment, so you can tell him thank you.”

“I’ve come up with all these cool nicknames for you, and you hate them. The only one you can come up with is Luce? I wanted a better one, Everett.”

“It’s not Luce, like short for Lucille. It’s Luz. L-U-Z. It means light in Spanish.”

“Because you’re like a burst of light, all bright and warm. You’re la luz.”

“She’s the light, and you’re all the colors, Wildflower.”

I told Everett everything else, though, every gross detail of my father’s words and motives. For the first time in my life, I allowed someone else to see how worthless I am in my parents’ eyes. The throwaway kid—the lost cause. He held me through it, whispering reassurances in my ear. I could see rage and devastation on his face, but he didn’t voice any opinions of his own. He only listened. I’ve never had someone do that for me either.

As I turn back toward the doors, Everett calls out, “Oh, and Tana—whoever bet on forever is going to win the pot.” “Nobody bet on forever,” she chimes back. He laughs under his breath. “Guess you’re all losers, then.”

“You know, maybe when this whole fake dating thing is over, I can hire you on as my bodyguard instead,” I muse. “You really handed her ass to her.” “Don’t be silly, Wildflower.” He smiles at me as he tosses his arm over my shoulder and pulls me against his chest. “We’re gonna have to date forever now so we can prove those assholes wrong.”

“Darby doesn’t have a life partner. She has a whole damn village.” I jump at the voice coming from behind me. It’s hard and brash, but it sounds like salvation as it runs along my skin. “It’s Dahlia’s village too.”

“Hi,” I whisper. He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “Are you all right?” Leaning into his touch, I nod. “Who is that?” Jason asks, voice sharp and cold. “Her boyfriend,” Everett responds just as brashly. Jason lets out a sharp, unconvincing laugh. “This doesn’t concern you.” With his eyes still on me, Everett responds, “Everything with Dahlia concerns me.” “For now,” Jason scoffs. “Unlike you, I’m going to be tied to her for the rest of my life. If I want to have a conversation with the mother of my child alone, I’m entitled to that.” “Not if she feels unsafe.”

I’m falling so hard for this man. Way too hard.

“I think the average resident cares a lot less about their local mechanic’s sex life than he lets on. I think he was smitten with you from the moment he met you, and you gave him the perfect scenario to court you without scaring you away.”

“Court me? It’s not Bridgerton, Darby.” “Is that not what he’s doing? I know you’re not too stupid to see it, Dal.” Her eyes filter across the lawn. “He’s infatuated with you. I mean, is he not flirting with you constantly? He’s practically begging to fuck you.”

My heart feels like frozen soil, like flowers gone dead in winter’s frost. A lifetime of being iced out by those who are supposed to love you tends to do that to a person, I think. A lifetime of poison leaves little space for one to bloom. Meeting Everett feels like planting seeds, like the hope of spring.

“I think if there is anyone out there worth trying for, it’s him.” I nod but don’t respond.

“He’s not my type.” “Hmm,” I hum, knocking him with my shoulder. “What is your type?” His voice is rough against my ear as he leans down, pressing the heat of his body into my back and whispering, “Lately, pretty blondes with smart-ass mouths.” “Oh,” I say casually, pretending like the feel of him doesn’t set every molecule in my body on fire. “So, Leo.”

There is no world in which any person—including those bitchy parents—would be able to convince anyone you’re a bad mother. And even if someone tries, I’m going to be right there next to you the entire time. I’ll fight with you, fight for you. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Wildflower.” I grasp the fabric of his shirt at his back, tugging him into me tighter, breathing him in, savoring his touch until I feel like I’m whole again.

“I hoped she would.” He smiles. “I’m always here, Wildflower, for whatever you need. But I hope you know”—he lifts his hand, taking my necklace between his fingers and sliding his thumb across the metal—“that there is no place I’d rather be, and nobody I’d rather be spending my time with than the two of you. It’s not a chore to me. It’s what I want to be doing.”

But watching Dahlia stand up for me like that, watching her believe I had the same value my brother has, awakened something inside me. I’ve always come second to him—until her. So, if she wants me to take this campaign on, then I’ll do that. For her.

“What?” she whispers. “Stood up for me.” My voice turns rough as I add, “Seen my value.”

“You’re invaluable, Everett.”

“Your body is my new religion, baby.” I wrap both arms around her legs, gripping her inner knees. “Now, spread those thighs and baptize me.”

“Tell me, Dahlia—does this taste fucking fake to you?” Her eyes flutter shut, her delicate throat working as she swallows. “No,” she murmurs. I close the distance between us, taking

“Everett,” she whispers, pulling away. Her gaze meets mine briefly before dropping to the floor. “I don’t know if I can offer more than this. I don’t know if I’m capable of it…” She sighs, eyes fluttering upward. “I’m just… I’m really fucked up.”

“I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give, as long as whatever you are giving me is real.”

I’ve known what I was getting into with Dahlia since the day I learned her name. Even if she can’t give me all of her, I can give her all of me. I don’t think anyone ever has. But I will. I’ll be patient, until she knows she’s safe. Her body, her heart, and soul, all of her is safe with me. I can’t break down her walls with a wrecking ball, I need to pull them apart brick by brick. Each one she gives me is a gift I know she has never given anyone else. So, I can be patient, no matter how bad it hurts me, because the only thing that would hurt more is losing her.

Everett your person, Mom?”

“Oh… I—um.” Frantically looking at Darby, I plead for help with my eyes. She only shrugs, like she has no idea how to respond either. “Because I think he’d be a good one,” Lou continues. My mouth clamps shut, mind reeling. “Really?” “Yeah.” Lou nods nonchalantly, settling back on her towel and reopening her book. “If you married Everett, I think that would be cool.”

“I see the way you look at me, Wildflower, and I want you to know that I’m seeing you the exact same way.”

“How am I looking at you?” I ask him anyway.

“Like you can’t fight it anymore.”

But I’m so goddamn sick of pretending. I spend my whole life pretending. Pretending I don’t fear I’m a bad mother. Pretending I don’t feel lonely. Pretending I’m not head over heels for the man standing in front of me. Pretending I’m not afraid he’s going to grow tired of me and walk away too. I don’t have the strength to pretend anymore, so I let him see all the vulnerability I’m used to hiding. I wear it plain as day on my face. “It made me feel like you didn’t want me.”

“Dahlia.” He takes half a step into my room before stopping himself, and I realize it’s because I haven’t invited him in yet. “I’m desperate for you. I don’t just want you. I fucking crave you.” He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry. I was just… I thought…”

He makes me want to believe that I’m all the things he thinks I am, that I’m confident, desirable, and worthy, and I hate that I doubted him—doubted myself.

I understand why you struggle with the way your body looks now, but I need you to know that I find every piece of you perfect, even the things you see as flaws. When you feel like you have to hide from the rest of the world, I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide from me.”

I run my thumb across the puckered scar at her abdomen. She shudders at the touch. A few faint stretch marks run along the length of her torso. “I love this because it grew one of my favorite people.”

“I admire so much about your body, Dahlia, but most of all, this.” I touch the scar again. “The strength and bravery it took to carry her, to birth her, all on your own. You deserved better. You deserved love and support. But even without it, you’re an incredible mother. She’s an incredible kid. I’m in utter awe of you every day. These scars only add to that.”

“I love these legs too. I love the way they feel wrapped around my face.” I smirk. “I love that they carried you into that dive bar—right into my life.” I press a kiss to her thigh. “When I look back on that night, I realize I think I’d been waiting for you all along. I just didn’t know it yet. I was going through the motions. Living, but not thriving. No direction. No purpose. Then, you walked in with that fucking guy, and my world flipped on its axis. You’re the only thing I’ve seen ever since.”

“What have I become to you?” she whispers, as if she’s afraid to ponder those questions too.

I lift my head and find my whole world in that sapphire gaze. “My purpose.”

“The point I’m making,” he continues, “ is that you’re an invisible string, Luz. Without you, none of us ever would’ve met each other. Do you know how much happiness and love you’ve brought into our lives just by existing?”

Butterflies explode in my chest, and I find myself clenching my heart with my hand. “Your life?” Lou asks, her voice quieter than before.

“Absolutely. But not just mine. Leo and Darby. My mom. She loves you so much, it’s almost scary.” My daughter laughs at that. “You’re that little thread of gold.” There’s some shuffling in the kitchen, and Lou laughs again. “Don’t forget that, okay? You’re meant to be. You’re a fucking cool kid, and ...