“Are you really going to give this up?” I ask when he comes back empty-handed and stands next to me. “You’re in the perfect spot.”
“No, I don’t think I can give it up.” He glances over at me. “I’m excited to be near my family again, and I love Minnesota, but this is in my blood now. I think I’m going to rent it out occasionally.”
“Nice. You’ll make a ton when you decide to sell it, but you should enjoy it for a while.”
“Agreed.”
“Who watches Bill while you’re away?” I fight laughter every time I sayBill. “And the store?”
“Rudy. We went to college together and dropped out together.” He makes a face. “I’m not making myself sound very appealing, am I? I came out here first to open the shop, and Rudy followed not long afterward. I’ve just never fit into the school mold very well. ADHD may have something to do with that.” He pauses for a second. “And the timing. My mom passed away at the beginning of my second year, and I had to find something to do to crawl out of the depression that hit. Thankfully, the business has done well. And the sunshine helps.” His lips lift when he looks at me. “I was able to pay off the business loan within the first year. Pure luck. There was a competition not far from here, and I met a few of the surfers at a party one of my friends had. I hit it off with the guy who ended up winning the competition,and he and his friends have helped put me on the map.”
“That’s amazing. It seems like it’d be so hard to start a business here. Sounds like it was all meant to be.”
“I like to think so. And now it’s time to go home…once I get everything in order here. It’ll be a while yet before I can be there full-time, but I’m starting the process. I hope Bill loves Minnesota. It’s hard to leave him when I go back and forth.”
“He hasn’t gone with you yet?”
“No. He’s an anxious little guy. I’m sure he’ll be okay, but I haven’t wanted to add to his stress.”
I smile and squeeze his hand. “That’s sweet. How long have you had him?”
“Oh, not very long. The little guy just showed up at the shop one day. He was hungry and cuddled right up to me. No one claimed him, and he’s been the store mascot ever since.” He looks at me, his eyes lit up. “You want to meet him?”
His joy is so infectious. Somehow, he’s turned a hard day into a happy one.
“I’d love to.”
I’m not sure what I was expecting of Dylan’s surf shop, but when we pull into the parking lot of Surf Culture, it’s clear I’ve underestimated him. I should’ve known by the classiness of his house that his business would also be top of the line.
Surf Culture is in a prime location on the beach. The parking lot is overflowing. People are talking at tables out front. Hanging flower baskets and big flowerpots add pops of color. Surfers stream out of the shop in their wet suits and head straight for the waves. Inside, the place is buzzing withshoppers. Beautiful boards line the walls, and clothing that I can see myself wearing catches my eye. The displays are clever and whimsical, just like Dylan. It’s fun to get a glimpse inside his mind. One of my favorite displays is a beautiful mermaid in a wet suit balancing on a surfboard. An old wooden turquoise canoe holds surf accessories, and colorful oars serve as cute jewelry and sunglasses displays. The distressed woods he favors in his house are here too, but with more driftwood.
“Wow, Dylan. When you were bragging on your siblings’ skills, you made it sound like you were the odd man out.” I look at him and am surprised by the vulnerability in his expression. “This place is like a work of art. It’s so fun and vibrant. You should be so proud of yourself.”
“Thank you,” he says softly. “I am happy with what I’ve accomplished here. It’s just…different than what my family brings to the table.”
“And yet it seems like it fits. Don’t you think?”
“Yes and no. If you take surfing off the table, yes.” He laughs. “I’m starting to get excited about what I can offer at the resort. Kayaking, skiing, fishing, hiking…but I’ll definitely miss this.”
He looks around and his smile grows. “There he is.”
Dylan bends down, and a tiny brown dog makes a beeline for him. The dog’s legs look too little to hold up his long body, but he’s speedy. When he reaches Dylan, he shakes with excitement. Dylan scoops him up and nuzzles his face into the dog’s neck.
After they’ve had a little lovefest, Dylan holds the little guy’s face up to his. Two sets of hazel eyes stare back at me.
“This is Bill. Bill, say hello to Dahlia.”
I reach out and let Bill sniff my hand before petting him. He leans into my hand, and I can’t stop smiling.
“He’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” I say softly.
“He is, isn’t he? I didn’t know I could be so attached to a dog.” He nuzzles Bill’s face again, and Bill gives him a single lick on the nose. “I missed you too, boy.”
“Hey, man.” A guy throws his arm around Dylan’s shoulder. “Who is this?” he asks, grinning at me.
“Dahlia, this is Rudy Stoker, my best friend and right-hand man. Rudy, this is Dahlia Gr—Dahlia,” Dylan says, shooting me a look.
And just like that, I’m reminded all over again that I’m flirting with disaster if I fall for Dylan Whitman…any more than I already have.
