47. Wildflower

47

Wildflower

The Wicked Wildflower

"Wake up, Wildflower."

Warm, delicate, soft kisses trail down my neck, stirring me from sleep. I hum, turning into the source of that strong body and light voice.

There's a musical laugh before those lips find my head. "C'mon, baby."

"Why?" I groan into his chest, not yet ready to leave the bed.

I don't know what time it is, but I know we were up into the early hours of this morning, getting entirely lost in each other. I know we'll have to go pick up Lou soon and talk to her about moving in with Everett, and he's going to have to have a conversation with Elena about it too, since she's staying with him indefinitely.

Not to mention, the aftermath of everything that went down with my father, and the fact that I haven't even begun to really process the conversation I had with my mom. We got a text from Ryan late last night after the reception, confirming that an expedited warrant had been issued due to the severity of his charges and the evidence against him—thanks to me. My father has likely already been taken in.

Highest priority on my list is to find Darby and I both a real good fucking therapist, because we've got some heavy shit to work through. But first, I just want to lay in bed with Everett for a few more minutes.

"Surf lessons, Dal."

"I told Lou not until school is out for the summer."

I feel his chest rumble beneath his laugh. "Not for Lou. For you."

I crack an eye open, glaring up at him. "Excuse me?"

"You once said you wished you could learn to surf." He's smiling down at me, obnoxiously chipper for this early in the day. "So, I'm going to teach you."

"I didn't mean it like that." I yawn, sitting up. "I meant it like if I was interested in surfing, I'd love to have the option to learn, but I'm too busy. So, if I was interested, which I'm not, I wouldn't even have the ability to take lessons, even though I don't want to."

He pops a brow. "Let's go. Everyone has to surf at least once in their life."

"Who made that rule?" I ask, watching him step out of bed, naked as the day he was born, and stretch. I'm fairly certain I have a Pavlovian response to this man's cock. He puts it in front of me, and I'm instantly salivating.

He smiles, watching my reaction to his body on display. "I think it's written into the constitution of California, so if you plan on staying here, you better get your ass up."

A half hour later, we're standing in the sand at the base of the cove beneath the cliff. The sun is still rising behind us, painting the Pacific in a soft blue, golden light glistening off the white caps. The sky above it expands endlessly in shades of lavender and fuschia.

"I can't believe I get to live here," I find myself saying, the morning breeze brushing against my cheeks like a kiss, the rustling of palm leaves like music.

"I can't believe I get to keep you," Everett responds, eyes on me rather than the horizon. "If we stay to the left side of the cove, the cliffs create a barrier so the water is calmer. I'll take you out with me."

He holds one of Leo's surf boards in one arm, my hand in the other, leading me out to the waves. Once we're knee deep in the water, he beckons me to climb on the board and straddle it with a leg dangling off either side. I watch it weave around my limbs as he pulls the board into deeper water, the shade of the ocean deepening the farther we go.

It's a calm, quiet morning, the board rocking comfortably beneath me in the current. Once we're past the break and Everett is about chest-deep, he stops. "Lean to the opposite side of me as I climb on, okay?"

I nod, and the board rocks, water rippling as he presses up onto it and throws one of his legs over the side. With the land at my back, Everett and I face each other, the sun shining across his beautiful face and setting his eyes on fire.

"So, this is surfing?" I ask.

"No, this is floating." He smirks as he shrugs. "But it's a good enough start."

I kick my feet back and forth beneath the water, the chill of it biting against my legs but not completely unbearable.

"This is everything I could've asked for, anyway." I smile, feeling nothing but peace and contentment in this moment.

We sit in comfortable silence for some time, listening to the sound of the waves around us, feeling the warmth of the rising sun and the whistling of the wind, when Everett asks, "Have you given any thought to a name for the coffee shop? We want to get started before summer."

"Yeah." I feel my lips quirk up at the corners. "I've thought of a name."

He raises his brows. "Well?"

"I was thinking of Wildflower," I say. Everett smiles, opening his mouth to respond, but I cut him off before he can. "But I decided it needed something more, something representative of the person who inspired me to take the leap."

He cocks his head.

I dip my head, feeling suddenly bashful. "The Wicked Wildflower… I thought that could be a good name."

That smile becomes a wide grin as he reaches around to grasp my neck and pull me into him. "I'm Wicked?"

I nod, feeling his lips against my nose.

"You're Wildflower?"

"So you say." I lift my chin so my mouth brushes against his.

His grin spreads against my lips. "The Wicked Wildflower. That's fucking perfect."

As he kisses me against the backdrop of the Pacific and beneath the early morning sunshine, I finally find a way to describe the feeling of being with him, in his arms, the sensation I've never been able to put a name to because I've never experienced it before.

Something inside my soul begins to bloom, like it finally found its destination, the spot to plant its roots. Home.