When the flight attendant hurries off, Dahlia turns and looks at me. I want to reach out and smooth the crease between her brows. She’s too beautiful to look so worried.
“I’m really sorry I just completely—” Her hand flies up and she sighs. “I’ve never passed out before. Did I make a complete fool of myself?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve never seen a more graceful dive.” I grin at her, and she looks taken aback, which just makes me smile bigger. I hold my hand out. “Hi, I’m Dylan.”
Some of the color is returning to her cheeks. She gives me a small smile and shakes my hand.
“Dahlia.”
“The professional diver.”
A small giggle escapes, and she covers her mouth with her hand, shaking her head.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she says.
I lean in slightly and lower my voice. “I’m speaking with one hundred percent honesty when I tell you that I have never seen anyone more beautiful than you. The fact that you made face-planting look that good…” I shake my head. “That takes an extremely high level of skill.”
Her lips twitch as she tries to contain her smile. “You’re flirting with me.”
“Is it working?” I whisper.
She puts her hand on her forehead. “I think I must have lost some brain cells when I fainted because it—” She looks around for the flight attendant.
“You’re gonna leave me hanging?” I ask incredulously.
Now she really laughs, and I feel it from head to toe. Her eyes are sparkling with playful energy, and it’s good to see even more color returning to her cheeks.
“You look like a man who has no doubts about the effect he has on women.”
“I only care about the effect I have on you.”
Shit, I’m laying it on thick, but I mean it with every fiber of my being. This woman is intoxicating.
Her eyes widen and she swallows hard.
The flight attendant chooses that moment to interrupt the best moment I’ve ever had.
CHAPTER TWO
IT’S ME, I’M THE FACE-PLANT
DAHLIA
Earlier that day…
It’s a gorgeous day in Malibu—hard to believe it’s December. At home in Minneapolis, two feet of snow are piled up, and it feels much more like Christmas is around the corner than it does here. I don’t mind this Southern California weather, though, not one bit.
I straighten my skirt and shift Chloe to my other hip as we wait for Christian to answer the door of his ridiculous McMansion.
“See Daddy?” Chloe asks.
“Yes, you’re seeing Daddy any minute now.”
“Mama stay?”
“No, my love. Mama will go bye-bye, and you’ll stay with Daddy.”
Those words make my stomach churn, but there’s no way around this. How do you explain to a two-and-a-half-year-old why you’re leaving her with someone she hardly knows? Christian decided to move from Minnesota to California topursue an acting career not long after she was born and has suddenly decided to give a shit about his daughter. Which I’m glad about, and torn about, and hate…all at the same time. That saying that both things can be true? Yes. That. All of it can be true.
