Page 107 of Wicked & Wildflower

“Thank you for the flowers.” Dahlia steps into me, and I press a light kiss to her lips. “But I cannot get onthatin front of my kid,” she says, nodding at my bike.

I smile; I knew she’d say that. “Luz, what did we talk about?”

Lou peeks her head around the bouquet that’s damn near the same size she is. “Motorcycles are dangerous, but you’re a professional, so we’re safe with you.”

“Right.” I nod. “And?”

“If a boy ever asks me if I want a ride on his motorcycle, I tell him to ‘Kick rocks, bitch.’”

Darby and I laugh. “Exactly.” I look at Dahlia. “See? We’re good.”

Dahlia gives me a deadpan expression, eyeing the bike again. I take off my jacket, pulling her into me as I wrap it around her shoulders. “Put this on. I’m taking you somewhere special for your birthday.”

She looks back between myself and her sister, unsure of what to say.

“Go,” Darby urges. “We have plans today anyway. Don’t we, Lulu?”

“Yep!”

“We won’t even miss you.” Darby smiles.

I reach behind me, grabbing one of the helmets before placing it on her head and fastening the buckle under her chin. “I’m serious, Lucille,” she shouts behind her. “You are not to ride on a motorcycle.Ever.These things are death traps.”

“Everett said he’d take me on a ride when you guys get home.”

Her nostrils flare, eyes growing wide as she glares at me.

“Around the block, Luz.” I wink at Dal. “Twenty-five miles per hour. Tops.”

“Are you two going faster than twenty-five miles per hour?” Lou snipes back.

“Absolutely not,” we lie simultaneously. Dahlia’s lips spread into a grin.

Ushering her over to my bike, I help her get on the back before I throw on my helmet and straddle the seat in front of her. “Hold onto me, Wildflower,” I say as I start the ignition and raise the kickstand with my foot. “You ready?”

Her arms band around my waist, holding tightly as I feel her nod against my back.

Darby flashes me a knowing grin, waving as I pull out onto the road and take off with Dahlia on my back.

36

Wildflower

Sunshine, Blue Horizons, And Him.

Warm, spring air whipsat my face, gusting through my hair. The roar of the road is deafening, drowning out all other noise, firmly placing my mind inside what feels like a bubble of sunshine, blue horizons, andhim.

My hands lock around his waist, holding tightly as he flies down the coastal highway. Each time we’re stopped or slowed, he takes a hand off the handlebars and wraps his fingers through mine or brushes them up my bare thigh, keeping me securely in the moment with him.

I’m not sure where we are, but I know we went west out of L.A., and about a half hour later, I could see the ocean. We’ve been speeding down the 101, right along the beach’s edge, for about forty minutes now. Towering green mountains are on one side of me, the endless sea on the other. The sun is at its peak, glittering across the white caps like diamonds. Palms line thehighway, swaying in the breeze. The world smells like sea salt and fresh air.

I don’t know where Everett’s taking me, but I don’t much care, not with the way his body feels against mine—safe and warm, with the breeze and the sun and the smell of the ocean. I imagine I’d go just about anywhere with him.

The bike comes to a crawl as we turn off the highway and enter some state park I don’t catch the name of. The one-lane, paved road winds up the mountain, and we ride along the cliffside to the top of it. Everett turns, shimmying his bike around a locked gate, clearly intended to cut off access to the gravel road that continues toward the peak.

It’s still too loud for me to ask what he’s doing, so I just hold onto him tightly, anticipation fluttering in my stomach until we reach the top and he brings his bike to a stop at the edge of a ridge, the Pacific stretching on for an eternity in front of us.

He kills the engine, taking his helmet off as he spins in the seat, grinning down at me. “How was that, Dal?” he asks, unbuckling the strap of the helmet beneath my chin and pulling it off my head.

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