All For Love

Book 3 in the Windy Harbor series

arrives April 9, 2026

Chapter 1

Right Time, Right Place

DYLAN

December

I don’t like to rush, but I also don’t like to be at the airport with too much time to spare. Today I rushed to get to LAX after cutting it too close and thought I might have missed my flight. I got to the gate, and as my luck would have it, my flight was delayed.

Worst of both worlds.

I shrug off the tension in my shoulders, wishing I could beam myself up to Minnesota right about now. I never knew I had the capacity to get stressed until I moved from Minnesota to LA. I grew up going to Lake Superior every summer, and when I was in high school, my family went on vacation to California. I fell in love with the ocean and surfing. In fact, I loved it so much that I moved back to ride the waves and opened a surf shop in Malibu that’s now thriving. But the traffic has threatened to take my sanity on more than one occasion. If I could just stay in my neighborhood, surfing and hanging out with the peeps I meet on the beach or who come through my shop, I’d be the most chill person I know.

Contributing to the stress is the reason I’m at LAX at least once a month, if not more…my dad has cancer. And I’m doing everything I can to turn the shop over to someone who will care about it as much as I do, so I can move back home to be with Dad. He insists that I not just drop everything for his sake, and I’m trying to honor his wishes, but it’s getting harder to leave him every time.

As I sit here trying to catch my breath, a pair of endless legs walk by me, and I’m ashamed to say that every other thought leaves my brain.

Fucking hell.

Who is that supermodel, and where can I follow her for life?

My eyes track up from her long legs to her ass, just barely covered by a skirt that I’d love to see outside in a breeze. White tank covering a toned stomach, and tits that are the perfect handful. Graceful arms and the prettiest hands. Long dark hair that falls down her back, splashing over that white tank like velvet. And then I reach her face.

Goddamn. That face.

Her eyes meet mine and they hold. I swallow hard, divided between staring at her full pink lips or the most mesmerizing green eyes I’ve ever seen.

I blink, and she’s walking away.

I stand, ready to introduce myself or to just follow that sweet scent trailing in her wake. If pheromones are honey, jasmine, citrus, vanilla, orchid, peach, chocolate, and blackberry, I kid you not, that’s what just walked by, blasted my senses, and woke everything up inside me.

The reason I’m at the airport rushes back. Probably as the blood eventually returns to my brain.

I sit down in a stupor.

I’m at an airport and moving from LA over the next few months. I’ll never see this girl again, and while that’s a fucking shame, it’s just the way it is. I look at the screen to see if it has any updates, and when I see that nothing’s changed—we’re still stuck here for at least another hour—I bury myself in my phone and don’t look up again until it’s time to board.

Since my legs are so long, I’m in an exit row. When the flight attendant comes by to have us state that we know what we’re signing up for by sitting in this row and then gets our agreement, something catches my eye.

Those sexy legs.

The girl is across the aisle and a few rows up from me. Maybe my luck is changing—she’s going to Minnesota too.

Still. Doesn’t mean much.

Gotta love it when you’re traveling and someone finds out you live in a state that the person you’re talking to is familiar with, and they say, “Oh! Maybe you know my friend John?”

Uh, no, Jim. I’m sorry, I don’t know your friend John.

The chances might be much greater in Minnesota than California, but yeah…no.

Doesn’t mean I’m not going to enjoy the hell out of being in the close vicinity of this girl for a few hours.

While I feel a bit pervy staring at her from my seat, it feels like a gift that I want to accept…but then my sister Goldie’s voice rings out in my head: Just because you want to look doesn’t mean she wants you to. Damn Goldie for sitting on my shoulder, talking sense into me, even when she’s across the country. She’s always done her best to keep me in line, as most big sisters do, I guess.

So I do the gentlemanly thing and keep my eyes to myself. Okay, maybe not entirely, certainly not every second, but more than I would’ve without my big sister’s stern voice correcting me.

I get a drink and a snack, thinking enviously about first class. I can afford it, I just can’t always excuse the expense when it’s a last-minute, extra-pricy fare. I guess my parents instilled that in me—save the dollars wherever I could…even though they were loaded. My dad still is.

My mom passed away too soon. I was nineteen when she was killed in a car accident. She was an accomplished architect, and she and my dad were such a great team—as a couple, as parents, and in their business collaborations. I miss her every damn day.

My dad is a real estate mogul who’s been gradually shifting his attention to developing a property in Windy Harbor, Minnesota. It’s become a family affair. We’re building an amazing resort called Windhaven. That’s the other reason I’m going back and forth from California to Minnesota so much. My dad calls the venture Rivendell-inspired, straight out of the pages of The Lord of the Rings. A mini-Rivendell. It really is beautiful.

I have a row to myself, which is pretty dang nice, and I try to watch a movie, but my attention is distracted by the girl in front of me. Even more so when she stands up, her long legs drawing my eyes down them again. Her legs are bronzed and look so fucking soft. I’d give anything to reach out and touch them and see if they’re as soft as they look.

I’m a tall guy—6ʹ5ʺ, and I’d put her around 5ʹ10ʺ or maybe even more. She’s wearing heels, and it hits me again—God, she’s so hot. She can’t be much more comfortable than I am in these plane seats. I glance up at her and pause when I see her expression. There’s a little frown between her eyebrows.

The next thing happens so fast, I’m not sure what’s going on. People gasp around us as she stumbles forward, and I reach out and catch her as she falls right into my lap, face down. It’s a good thing I had the elbow rest up because her head would’ve hit it hard. Her left breast is in my left hand, and her ass is in my right.

I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.

Her skirt rode up when she fell, and my hand is now on her bare ass. It is as amazing as I thought it would be, and her tit is fucking perfection, but this is not the way I wanted this whole thing to go down. I sit there for a second or ten, stunned out of my mind. Then I drag my hand out from under her breast, and when my other hand shifts, I feel her lace thong and grab her skirt to cover her skin.

I’m shocked she hasn’t turned around and slapped me yet for having my hands in inappropriate places, even though it was unintentional.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She says nothing. I look at her carefully and then brush her hair back. My God, she’s passed out. I push the button above me for the flight attendant, and in the meantime, I feel for a pulse. The relief when I feel one is massive, and it only grows when she stirs in my arms and turns her head to look up at me.

“What—?” she asks, her voice groggy.

I make sure my hands are nowhere near her ass or touching anything else inappropriate, but I also don’t want to let her go down again.

“I think you passed out,” I say.

The flight attendant comes over and gives me a look like What the hell are you doing with a woman on your lap?

“She passed out,” I say hurriedly. “Fell right here when she got up. I’m worried about her.”

“Oh my goodness!” The flight attendant jumps into action. “Can I help you get seated?” she asks the girl.

“I can go by the window if you need more air,” I say. “No one else is sitting here.”

She nods and takes a deep breath.

“Can I just sit right there?” she asks, pointing at the middle seat.

“Absolutely.” I hold on to her arm as she lowers her legs to the ground and moves to the seat next to me.

Meanwhile, the flight attendant has called for backup to bring the medical kit, and she comes and does the girl’s vitals.

“Do you have low blood sugar?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” the girl says.

“Can you tell us your name?”

“Dahlia,” the girl says.

Dahlia, I think, running the sound of her name through my mind.

It fits her.

“I’m okay,” Dahlia says. “I think I’ve just been…” She shakes her head. “I probably do have low blood sugar because I didn’t eat enough before I left.” She takes a deep breath. “I…didn’t get much sleep last night and am already a nervous flyer.”

The first flight attendant nods. “We’ll keep an eye on you. Do you need a drink and something to eat? Maybe some juice or ginger ale?”

Dahlia nods. “That would be great. Thank you so much.”

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.