California Girls

Two hours later she’d gone through a forty-five-minute safety class, been fitted for gear and had survived her first two laps of the track. She stopped by the instructor and pulled off her helmet. Eight-year-old Brandon pulled up next to her and give her a high five.

“You were really good, Ali,” he said with a grin.

“Thanks. You were better. You went so fast.”

His chest puffed out a little. “I’m going to be the best. You’ll see. When I’m famous, we can hang out if you’d like.”

She did her best not to smile. “That would be very cool.”

Daniel strolled over. “Hey, my man,” he said to Brandon. “Have a good time?”

“The best! My mom’s gonna sign me up for the summer session. I can’t wait.”

“I look forward to seeing you around.”

Brandon flipped his visor closed, then headed off for another circuit. Daniel leaned close.

“It seems I have competition.”

She laughed. “When he’s famous we’re going to hang out, so yes, I would say you do.”

“How’d you like it?”

She thought about the speed, the dirt track, the way the bike had leaned into the turns. “I was scared and I loved it. I want to come back and learn more.”

She stood up and felt her legs protest. Muscles not used to that kind of workout were going to be sore later.

“I’m glad,” he said, taking her bike from her and walking it toward the rental building. “Motocross is intense. You really have to concentrate, which means it’s a great way to clear your head. When you’re out on the track, you can’t think of anything else.”

He returned the bike while she stripped out of her protective gear. Her clothes were covered in dust and she felt a little gritty all over.

“I need a shower,” she said.

“That is a hazard of the sport. Let’s head back to the house. You can clean up, then pack a bag.”

She looked at him. “For what?”

His dark gaze met hers. “We’d agreed we were going to fill the day.”

For a second she had no idea what he was talking about. Learning how to ride the bike and navigate the track had taken all her concentration. There’d been no room left for anything else, including remembering that today was supposed to be her wedding day. And the fact that he’d promised her dinner.

“We did,” she agreed.

“I thought we’d head up to Santa Barbara for the weekend. I’ve booked us a couple of rooms at a great hotel. We’ll walk around town, have a nice dinner, drink a little too much wine and call Glen names.”

She was kind of stuck on the “couple of rooms,” then told herself not to be greedy. Daniel had been fantastic to her in more ways than she could count. And he was a gentleman—of course there would be two rooms.

“You don’t have to do that,” she told him. “I mean it. This morning was plenty. You probably have lots of other things you’d rather be doing than spending the day with me.”

“Not a one,” he said lightly.

Her natural inclination was to push back again, only she didn’t want to be that person anymore. He’d offered, she’d given him an out and he’d refused. She was going to take him at his word and go with him to Santa Barbara. They would have a great time together because they always did.

“Sounds wonderful. It won’t take me long to pack, then we can be on our way.”

The weather was LA movie perfect, with beach temperatures in the low seventies and the skies a stunning California blue. They took the coast road north, passing through Ventura, then Carpinteria on the way to Santa Barbara.

They stopped at a little hole-in-the wall taco place for a late lunch and ordered a half dozen pulled pork tacos with extra avocado. The tortillas were homemade, as was the salsa. The juices dripped down their chins and onto the plates but were delicious enough to be worth the mess. They took their beers down to the patio by the beach and sat in the shade, watching the ocean.

“This is bliss,” she said, resting her feet on the railing and closing her eyes.

“I agree.”

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Three.”

“Let’s see. I would be getting ready right now, and the makeup lady would be doing her thing. I’d be nervous, but not scared. My mom and sisters would be with me.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Is it weird of me to say that?”

“No. I’m sure talking about the wedding helps.”

“The whole situation feels really surreal. Like the engagement and breakup happened to someone else.” She sipped her beer. “Daniel, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me. From the first second you told me about Glen until now, you’ve been amazing. I’m not sure I would have gotten through this without you.”

“Happy to help.”

She studied him, taking in the firm line of his jaw and his broad shoulders. “Tell me why you’ve done it. I get the first part—Glen put you in a horrible position and you were being a great guy. But why do you keep rescuing me?”

“I’m not rescuing you. I’m being a friend.” His gaze was steady. “I like you, Ali. I thought I made that clear.”

What did that mean? He liked her as in she was cute like a puppy and they had fun together? Or he liked her the way a man liked a woman?

One eyebrow rose as if he guessed what she was thinking. She waited, hoping he would cough it up, but he was silent.

“You’re going to make me ask, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one who complained about agreeing to spice cake when you didn’t want to. Maybe it’s time to demand a little chocolate.”

She went hot, then cold. Embarrassment battled with frustration. He wasn’t wrong, she thought, as resignation joined the emotional stew. She didn’t ever ask for what she wanted—she took what was offered and was often disappointed, be it at work or with her mother and the stupid clock or in her personal life. She always had.

“What if I’m invisible because that’s how I want to be?” she blurted. “What if I’m making a choice? It’s not that people can’t see me, it’s that I don’t want them to?”

She had no idea if she was right, only that the concept felt right. Empowering, even. She had to take charge. If she wanted something, she should go for it. She should respect herself and demand the same from others.

“I want to steal the clock.”