Blue Dahlia (The Dahlia Trilogy of The Gilded Flower Series Book 1) (3 page)

After driving a few blocks down Montecito, he turns right onto Gray Street and pulls up in front of a non-descript warehouse. Dahlia gasps when he leads her inside. One side of the ten-thousand square foot space is lined with finished surfboards of all sizes: longboards, shortboards, big wave riders, and paddleboards. She walks over and runs her hands along one.

Motioning toward the back, he says, “Over here is where we finish the boards. I’ve been working on this line for the past few years. It’s become really popular with some of the pro girls. Let’s go.”

Dahlia trails him to the other side of the warehouse and nods her approval. It’s definitely something she would’ve ridden.

“I named it the Blue Dahlia.”

Dahlia’s stomach drops. Her eyes dart from the board to him.

Pointing to the bottom of the board, he says, “See the insignia? You drew this picture when you were sitting in our backyard one day.”

“Maybe I should’ve copyrighted it,” she replies with a half-smile.

“I’ve got to deliver a few of these today. The guys are just hitching a trailer to my car now. You want to come?”

Dahlia nods. “Sure.” Maybe then they can talk.

As she follows him to the car, she feels her back pocket vibrate. Rodrigo. She turns off her ringer.

“You need to take that?” He asks.

Dahlia shakes her head. “Not right now.”

Driving up Pacific Coast Highway, Dahlia struggles to start the conversation. Fortunately, he does it for her, probably sensing her discomfort.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here? I think it’s safe to say that after seven years this isn’t just some casual visit from an old friend.”

Dahlia raises an eyebrow at him. Friends. As if that’s all they were.

“You know what I mean, D,” he says, answering her thought.

She sighs. “We just didn’t leave things right, Shane.”

“Holy shit. You remember my name. I was to beginning to wonder,” he chuckles. “You haven’t been able to look at me or say my name all morning.”

Shaking her head, she says, “After all this time, I didn’t realize it would still be so hard.”

He reaches over and caresses her cheek with his thumb. “I get it, D. So much went down between us. But it’s all good now. You’ve seen for yourself.”

“My parents’ money made it good, didn’t it?” Bitterness begins to creep into her voice.

“That’s not fair, Dahlia. And you know it!”

She looks out the window, tears streaming down her face. He shakes his head and turns up the Cold War Kids, the loud music filling the car and drowning out her cries. Now she remembers why she decided they couldn’t stay together. There was never any communication. They would each say hurtful things and then ignore one another until they’d resolve it by making love. It seems little has changed between them. Except she’s not twenty anymore.

Turning toward him, she says, “I want you to give me the divorce.”

A couple of hours pass with no response from Shane. Dahlia refuses to speak anymore. She only wants one answer from him. It’s what she came for, and she won’t leave until he agrees. Her plan was to stay in Santa Barbara for the weekend, figuring that his stubborn side would get in the way of a quick resolution. Of course when she envisioned his reaction, she didn’t anticipate having to sit in a car with him for hours.

Finally, when she can no longer stand the silence, she asks, “How much longer? I need to use the bathroom.”

“Cambria isn’t far.”

“We’re stopping in Cambria? Where in the hell are we going?”

“Santa Cruz,” he replies casually.

“What the fuck, Shane? I didn’t fly all this way so we could road trip.”

“Too late, D. I gotta get these boards up to S.C. Besides, what better way for old friends to catch up?” He smirks.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re an ass, Shane.”

“I remember a time when you liked my ass,” he says.

“You better get me back to Santa Barbara tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, saluting her.

Dahlia spots Shane leaning against the black Range Rover when she comes out of the coffee shop. Her breath catches as she allows her eyes to linger a bit more on his body. His chest appears broader, and his sun-kissed hair is still thick but much shorter than it used to be. She shakes her head, trying to keep herself from wondering what it would be like to have his hands on her again. To feel his lips on her body.

She’s about to open the door when he says, “I picked up some tacos and beer. Let’s go eat on the beach.”

He leads her down a path to a bank of rocks. She takes a long pull of her Corona as soon as they sit down. Riding in the car was becoming stressful, anger and tension radiating between them. Being near the water feels less stifling.

“Why won’t you answer me about the divorce?” Dahlia asks.

“Why do you want one? Wait, let me guess,” he says, taking a bite of his fish taco. “Poppy’s found some trust fund asshole for you.”

“Jesus, Shane, you’re the asshole.” Dahlia forgets about her taco and drinks her beer.

“Tell me this, D. Why couldn’t I ever be good enough for you?”

She shrugs. “Good enough wasn’t the issue.” Dahlia begins to fight back tears. This was the emotional baggage she had tried to avoid all these years.

“Then tell me, please, D.” He looks at her, his passionate gaze revealing his feelings for her.

This time it’s Dahlia’s turn to shut down. She picks up her uneaten taco and empty bottle and heads back up the path to the car. She doesn’t have the strength to tell him that she still loves him, but that being with him would always remind her of the baby they lost.

Dahlia sleeps the rest of the way to Santa Cruz, the emotional and physical exhaustion from traveling and seeing Shane catching up with her.

He wakes her when they arrive. “This won’t take long,” he says in a sympathetic tone. Clearly, he realizes he’d pushed her too far.

Dahlia checks her phone. Five missed calls and three texts from Rodrigo. She sighs. He has no idea she’s in California. By now, they would’ve spoken at least once and exchanged several texts like they do everyday. But now she’s too spent.

Dahlia wakes again just as Shane pulls into a driveway. “Promise me this is it for today,” she mumbles.

“I promise,” he replies, climbing out of the car to open the door for her.

Leading her to the front door, he says, “Welcome to Casa Walker.”

Dahlia takes in the white oak floors and exposed dark wood beams. The design is flawless, with marble throughout and floor to ceiling glass windows revealing a breathtaking view of the ocean. He shows her the four bedrooms, each with their own en-suite bathrooms and fireplaces.

“You can sleep here tonight,” he says, leaving her bag on the bed. “It has a view that I think you’ll like.”

“Thanks,” Dahlia nods, taking in the sweeping panorama of the Pacific.

“I’ve got some steaks I can grill for dinner. We’ll eat out on the deck. Should be a great sunset tonight.” Shane closes the door before she can respond.

She sits down on the bay window and pulls out her phone, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Baby! I’ve been calling you all day,” Rodrigo says.

“Hey,” she replies quietly. “I miss you.”

“Is everything alright?” Concern enters his voice.

Dahlia nods, as if he could see her. “Yeah, it’s been a long day.”

“Then maybe you should come to Miami sooner rather than later.”

“I will, I promise. Everything okay with your family?” She asks, trying to distract him.

“Yeah, you know Alejandro. He’s all worried that some investor is going to start raising hell. You remember Gustavo de Lima?”

“Uh-huh,” Dahlia says, the name barely registering.

“He bought a bunch of shares when we went public. My brother is so pissed. Apparently your sister had an affair with him.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Dahlia, honey. Are you okay?”

“Of course, baby, I’m just tired. I flew to California early this morning.”

“California? You never mentioned that.”

“It was last minute,” she says casually. “Like I said, I have something to tie up before I come to Miami. Hopefully I can be there next week.”

“I can’t wait, baby. I’ve already been talking to a realtor who has some places lined up to show us when you get here.”

Tears threaten. Does she even deserve Rodrigo? He’s been kind and unassuming toward her, wanting only her happiness. Why can’t she tell him the truth? Perhaps she should’ve told him when they were in Aspen. But they’d only been dating six weeks. She feared he’d leave her then. But the longer she waits, the greater the chance he’ll end it because of her deception.

Now the floodgates open.

“Dahlia. Please, tell me. I can be wherever you are by tomorrow.”

“It’s okay, Rodrigo.” She swallows her sobs and takes a deep breath. “I’ll explain everything when I see you in Miami.”

She runs her hands through her hair. “Look, I’ve got to go. I love you, please know that.”

Dahlia puts down her phone and heads into the bathroom to shower.
No, this won’t be easy at all
, she thinks to herself.

Courage hits Dahlia by her second glass of wine. Cutting another piece of her rib-eye, she says, “Tell me what you ended up doing with my parents’ money.”

Shane takes a long drink of wine and wipes his mouth with his linen napkin. Eyeing Dahlia carefully, he replies, “You mean the money you told me take? I smoked it, put it up my nose and generally pissed it away.”

Dahlia nearly chokes. “All of it?”

He shrugs. “Some of it at least.” Shane sighs and pours himself and Dahlia more wine. “When you left, I completely lost sight of myself. I swear, D, you were my universe. The day you walked out was the day my life stopped.”

She sucks in a breath. On some level, a part of her died too. But she forced herself to move on, taking solace in the thought that they were better apart than together.

“Couldn’t you see how wrong we were for each other, Shane? We had some great times. The highs were great, but the lows . . .” Dahlia pauses. “When we fought, it shattered me. We just couldn’t bridge things.”

“We were young,” he says into his glass.

“And very stupid,” she replies, setting down her fork. “It was naïve to think we could make it all work, Shane. You had to travel the world to compete. At some point I wouldn’t have been able to go with you. What life would we have had?” Dahlia stops and pushes away her plate.

Shane crosses his arms. “After that day, I couldn’t surf competitively any more. I lost my fire. Took too many drugs. Eventually, my sponsors dropped me.”

“Shane, I didn’t have a choice. I had to go. At least with the money you’d be set. You could surf the world. It was your dream.” Dahlia reaches her hand across the table, but he doesn’t take it.

“You were my dream, D.” Shane looks down and shakes his head.

His words tie her stomach in knots. After a beat, he picks up his plate and says, “I have some work to do tonight. I’ll take you down to SB tomorrow.”

Dahlia cleans up the kitchen once he leaves, grateful to have something to do to distract her. Despite all their talking, he still hasn’t agreed to the divorce.
What will it take?
She sighs.

Shane’s deep blue eyes burn into her as his hands move up her body and cup her breasts, caressing and rubbing as he goes. He rolls her nipples between his fingers before pulling on them gently. She sucks in her breath as his mouth closes down around her hard nipple. He flicks his tongue against it then pulls on it with his teeth. Dahlia arches her back to meet him, heat radiating throughout her body.

He slowly makes his way over to the next breast, grabbing and kneading the soft flesh. Shane circles her nipple with his tongue before sucking it deep into his mouth. Dahlia parts her legs a little more, waiting and wanting. This is what being with him does to her. Shane smiles seductively as his lips travel up her neck to nibble on her earlobe.

Moisture pools between her legs. He continues to pull on her nipples as his mouth locks onto hers. They move in a familiar rhythm. Being with him always felt natural, every part of their bodies fitting together perfectly. Shane kisses her deeply, passionately with his warm lips and tongue. Teasing, licking, sucking. Finally she feels his hand on her clit, his finger circling the soaking entrance to her love tunnel.

Dahlia moans. His touch, his lips start to unleash a fire she hasn’t felt in years.

“Say it, Dahlia,” he whispers to her.

“What, Shane?” she murmurs, wrapping her leg around his waist.

“That you’re mine forever.”

Dahlia’s eyes fly open, her breathing ragged. Her pussy continues to quiver from the intense orgasm. The clock on her bedside reads 6:30 a.m. She throws her arm over her eyes. This trip was a terrible idea.

She pads over to her bag, pulls out a piece of paper and begins to draw.