Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
SNOWSHINE
DAHLIA
This is not the day to gain a couple of hours.
I want this day to be over, not get an extension.
Christian’s reply is as terse as expected when I text to let him know I’ve arrived.
Christian
DO NOT pick her up until tomorrow night.
Is she any better?
Christian
She’s fine, Dahlia.
You better be telling the truth, Christian.
“I can’t stand him,” I say out loud.
We’re still on the plane, waiting to get off.
“What drew you to him at first?” Dylan asks.
“He was really good-looking and persistent. And this should have been a deterrent, but my dad pushed the relationship. Christian worked at our company and did well.”
“Is he a good dad?”
I make a face. “He claims he wants to be. Now. It wasn’t that way when Chloe was first born.”
“Why is he living in California?”
“He’s looking for his big break as an actor.”
Dylan’s eyebrows lift. “That doesn’t sound like someone your dad would approve of.”
“He comes from a wealthy family and doesn’t really need to work.”
“Ahh, I see. It’s making more sense now.”
“My dad thinks if I’d stayed with Christian, he wouldn’t have made the move to California. He would’ve kept working for him. But Christian was determined to leave. I would’ve just been forced to make the move as well.”
“You’d prefer to be in Minnesota?”
“I’d prefer to not be with Christian.”
His lips lift. “Got it.”
It’s our turn to move, and we grab our carry-ons and get off the plane.
Despite being in California just a few days ago, it’s still a shock to my system when Dylan and I step outside to warm, sunny weather. Christmas decorations look out of place in all this sunshine.
We use a car service to get to Dylan’s house, and on the way there, I try not to overthink staying at his place.
It’s ludicrous to stay in the home of a man I just met, but I’m enjoying being around him so much.
It’s madness that a Whitman is bringing me peace, but there’s something about Dylan that calms me.
He’s playful, attentive, smart—I haven’t found anything about him that I don’t like, beyond who his family is.
And that feels more like my dad’s battle, not mine.
It’s not nothing, though. It’s an issue, a huge one.
It’s not an exaggeration to say my dad would completely lose his shit over it.
He just can’t find out. That’s all there is to it.
And if there’s any weirdness staying at Dylan’s house at all, I’ll leave.
When the car pulls up to the houses lining the oceanfront, I get excited to see where Dylan lives.
I might not work in the same capacity as most do at my dad’s real estate company, but that doesn’t negate my love for houses.
One of my guilty pleasures is scanning the database for all the latest listings.
The houses are crowded on this strip, as most are in California, but when I walk through his gate, I’m blown away.
Lush gardens encase a secluded courtyard.
There’s a round hot tub built into the deck, and the latticed fencing is partially hidden with bamboo and plush bushes.
An outdoor shower is closer to the beach gate.
Once we step into the house, my eye is drawn to the ocean outside the glass walls.
There’s no sign of the houses next door, inside or out.
An open floor plan with exposed beam ceilings makes everything feel light and airy.
“This is stunning, Dylan. The house is beautiful, and the way you’ve decorated it—I’m blown away.”
“I had a lot of help from Goldie. She’s an interior designer and really good at narrowing down what a person loves. I told her I wanted big, chunky furniture with lots of different woods, and she helped me find these pieces.”
“That table.” I shake my head. “It’s perfect for this space.”
A long table made of distressed wood spans the entire wall, and his TV is framed above it.
“I told my brother Noah what I wanted there, and he built it for me.”
“Your family is so talented.”
“That’s just two of them. The other two are just as talented in different ways. Tully plays professional hockey…with the Minnesota Fierce.” He grins when my eyebrows lift.
“It didn’t hit me until now that you’re Tully Whitman’s brother.”
“You’re not crushing on my brother, are you?” He frowns but still manages to look playful.
My cheeks flush. “No, but…are all the brothers as hot as you and Tully?”
He lifts one eyebrow. “All I heard in that sentence was that you think I’m hot…”
“You’re okay.”
“No, you can’t take it back now. And the answer to your question is yes. We’ve all got it going on.”
He gives me a cocky smirk when I laugh.
“Camden is a world-renowned chef. And I’m just the hot, lowly owner of a surf shop.” He winks, and dammit, he is so hot, he takes my breath away. “Come on, I’ll show you the bedrooms. There are only two. It’s not a big house, so it’ll be a quick tour. I’m outside most of the time.”
He takes my suitcase and points out a beautiful room.
“You’re welcome to stay in whichever room you’d like, but it’d be more fun if you stay in here with me.” He pushes the door to his bedroom open, and it’s big and beautiful.
“So pretty.”
He looks shy for a second, as he stands there and watches me take it in.
“I’ll stay in here…with you,” I say.
He sets the suitcases down and walks over. His hands frame my face, and he kisses me, soft and sweet. It’s over before I know it, and he turns, returning to the suitcases, which he carries to the closet.
The ocean is right there. I’m so in awe of that view, I could stay right here staring at it for hours and be completely content.
“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 say Bill. “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 with shoppers.
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.