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Not to mention that having Everett Ramos anywhere near my bed is a detrimental idea. I’d probably never let him leave it again.
“Trust me, I’m nobody’s wet dream.” He’s my wet dream. I don’t say that, though.
She just refuses to lose hope that she’s going to find people in her life who’ll drop everything to see her smile.
“Of course not. You know I’ll paint myself green for that kid if she asks me to.”
Butterfly wings explode in my stomach, fluttering up through my chest. My throat goes tight, and my eyes burn. I’ve never had anyone say that to me about Lou before, nobody besides my sister.
The way this man can bring me from the edge of tears to bursting with laughter in a matter of seconds is a whiplash I’ve never experienced before.
Everett loops one large hand around my thigh and tugs me into him. His grip is a possessive warning, and I watch Jeremiah study where his palm spreads across my leg, the ink along his hands and the way his fingers flex beneath Jeremiah’s stare, as if Everett’s daring him to say something.
God, why is jealousy so hot on him?
“I’m just making sure he knows you’re mine.”
“We’re friends,”
“Friends,” he muses, and I feel his smile against my neck. “Do all your friends make you squirt?”
“See ya!” Everett tosses out, not bothering to make eye contact.
vexation.
Nothing about tonight—the way I acted, the way I felt—was fake or forced.
“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.”
have to show her that this isn’t an arrangement for me. This isn’t fake. She may be mine for show, but I’m hers for real. All I’ve got to do is prove it.
“I got it to remind myself that I’m the navigator of my own life.”
you’re fucking stunning, including when you’re coming. I’ve been blessed to see it, so trust me when I say that.”
I realize that, whether he’s watching me or not, my hand is going to be slipping between my legs tonight before I’m able to find sleep, and he’s going to be on my mind as I chase that ecstasy.
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.”
“Me moriría de sed por ahogarme en ti,”
“Do you see this, Dahlia? This is all you, baby. Only you on my mind every time I fuck myself since the night I met you.”
I never get tired of seeing it, her flustered by me, knowing I’m capable of bringing that kind of reaction out of such a strong, independent woman.
I smile at her. “Your mother is the most beautiful person in the world, Luz. That was a compliment, so you can tell him thank you.”
“He has two daughters,” I mutter through clenched teeth. “That’s what I said.” She laughs again, but it’s not genuine. “He told me he didn’t. He only had one in his eyes, that he’d felt that way for a while. That no good man would be willing to bother with me. That I was ruined, damaged goods. That any man who’d ever want to take that step with me wouldn’t be worthy of my father’s blessing anyway. Therefore, there was no reality in which I’d be walked down the aisle by him.”
“You’re worthy, Dahlia. You’re worthy of everything.”
“She’s the light, and you’re all the colors, Wildflower.”
sight. It’s like sitting here, with the two of them, is where I’ve always been meant to be.
“You know who loves my unbecoming mouth, Dad?” I smile, feeling a wave of bravery wash through me. “Everett. You remember him, don’t you? The man who had you pushed up against the wall, his elbow against your throat as you gasped for air?”
My voice cracks, nearly three decades of heartbreak flooding out of me. The black sheep. The lost cause. The ruined goods. Worthless.
I trust you is what I really want to say.
Tana snorts, shaking her head. “And to think we were all taking bets on how long you two would last.” She smiles at me, but I see the sneer beneath it. “Looks like you’re proving us wrong.”
“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.”
“My mother is terrified of Dahlia.”
“Oh, I’m aware. Your parents are off limits, because you refuse to believe you’re anything but a fucking victim. I get it.”
“Not if she feels unsafe.” I’m falling so hard for this man. Way too hard.
“I know you think you’re hiding away out there, Dahlia, but trust me, you’re not that hard to find. Next time someone tells you to come back home, you should consider listening.”
He’s the one person who seems to be holding onto my life vest—who seems to breathe oxygen back into my water-filled lungs.
Though, it’s nothing in comparison to the way I feel when Everett wraps his arms around my waist, nuzzling his chin into my shoulder and sighing contently as he watches my daughter open her gifts, like there is no place else he’d rather be.
A compass. Identical to the necklace around my throat right now. The matching one of which Lou lost a year ago, and I’d been unable to replace. Something I mentioned to Everett only once.
I think I’m in love with him.
“Shoot.” I let out a breathless laugh. “I guess I don’t do it for you, then.” He chuckles against my jaw, and I feel one of his hands at my waist. “Baby, you have no fucking clue what you do to me.”
I’m also scared. I’m so afraid of her being hurt, afraid of things going so far that she runs away, that she begins to feel unsafe in the place I’ve always felt safest in. That Pacific Shores stops feeling like home to her. I want her to feel at home here. I want her to feel at home with me.
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.
“You’re invaluable, Everett.”
I’m consumed by her. I know this will destroy me later, but in this moment, I revel in my wrecking.
She seems under the impression that she can only take pleasure if it’s also being returned.
She needs the level of vulnerability to be matched, and I think it’s because she needs to know I want to give this to her as much as she wants to take it. She’s so afraid of being a burden, of not being desired.
