The Sweetest Thing (32 page)

She couldn’t remember her own name now. “That’s a pretty outrageous threat,” she managed.

“Yes, and if you’re very lucky, I’ll wait until we’re alone to carry through on it.”

She turned to face him just as he reached past her to accept his own tiny spoon sample from Lance. Eyes on hers, Ford licked
at it slowly.

Tara’s thighs quivered.

“Order your ice cream,” he told her, and took another lick.

Later she couldn’t remember what she ordered. All she remembered was Ford holding her hand on the walk back through the crowd,
with need and hunger and desire pounding through her veins instead of blood.

By silent agreement, they headed directly to his car.
He drove them to the marina and to his boat. Still silent, they boarded.

The moon was nothing but a narrow sliver on the water, lapping quietly at the boat as they turned to each other.

T
here was only the faintest glow of a quarter moon on the water. The night had a hushed quiet to it—with the exception of Tara’s
heavy breathing and low moans.

Ford’s favorite sounds of all time.

They lay on his bed. As Tara thrashed beneath his hands, he slowly drew her to the very edge of sanity, watching, enthralled,
as she began to come undone.

She wasn’t alone in that.

Always when with her, he was completely undone, stripped down to raw, bare soul. From her first day back in Lucky Harbor,
it’d been exactly as he remembered, and something he’d never forgotten in all these years.

His gaze wandered down her gorgeous body, long and curvy, and spread out across his bed for his viewing pleasure, and he actually
ached.

She opened her eyes. “You’re looking at me like…”

“Like you looked at the ice cream earlier?” he asked with a smile. “Yeah, I am. I’m hungry for you, Tara.”

Stretching out, she lifted her arms above her head, giving him silent permission to taste whatever he wanted. Something he’d
been wanting to do for days—eat her up from head to toe and then back again, until she came for him. Again and again. He started
at her throat, tasting every single inch of her, nibbling certain interesting spots, stopping to tease whenever she gasped
or wriggled. “So sweet,” he murmured against her skin. “You’re so damn sweet.” By the time he got to her belly button, she
was fisting the sheets at her side and murmuring his name in a chant, a prayer, a warning to hurry the hell up.

It made him laugh. “Just lay there and take it, Tara.”
Take me…
“Give me the control. I’ll get you where you want to go, I promise.”

“I—Ohmigod,” she managed when he drew her into his mouth and gently sucked, his hands sliding beneath her sexy ass to hold
her still. “Don’t stop,” she demanded.

Still
trying to be in the driver’s seat. “Please,” he corrected. “Don’t stop,
please
…”

She slid her fingers into his hair, tightening them to an almost painful grip, holding him to her, making him laugh again.
“Say it,” he demanded.

“Don’t stop,
please
,” she ground out, doing her best to make him bald.

“See?” he murmured. “Sweet as hell.” And he didn’t stop. Not until she begged him to.

Nicely.

•   •   •

Afterward, Tara fell asleep curled into Ford’s side, one hand tucked beneath her chin, the other across his chest.

He lay there, relaxed and boneless, listening to her breathe, not wanting to move. Not wanting her to stir and remember that
she was trying to hold back from him. Because then she’d get up, get dressed, and walk away.

She was good at that.

And he was good at letting her.

He had no one but himself to blame for that. Bad genes, bad childhood—all excuses and he knew it. And they no longer cut it.

Tara’s coming back to Lucky Harbor had been circumstance. Her staying in town even more so. No one would argue that their
connection wasn’t still there, possibly even deeper than before, but she was holding back, and he couldn’t blame her.

She’d been burned.

He knew that. He got it. Hell, he’d even been one of the ones to burn her. Up until now, he’d been willing to give her all
the time she needed, because the truth was that he’d needed time, too. Time to deal with some of his own past mistakes. Time
to understand that he was in this for the long haul.

Because she made him. She made him laugh. She made him feel. She made him think. She made him happy.

She made him… everything.

And with that everything, she also made him vulnerable. Bone-deep, scary-as-shit vulnerable. Just as gun-shy as she was.

Christ, he really hated that about himself.

With a sleepy sigh, Tara stirred and untangled herself.

“Don’t,” he said.

She lifted her head in surprise. “Don’t what?”

He drew a deep breath. “Don’t go. Stay the night.”

She smiled softly, and he knew by the light in her eyes that his words meant something to her, said something important. A
step in the right direction, that light said, and he smiled back.

But she still climbed out of the bed. “I can’t stay tonight. I have to go check on the inn.” She slipped back into her dress
and bent over the bed to kiss him. “ ’Night, Ford.” Then she was gone, her heels clicking on the deck as she walked away in
tune to the only other sound Ford could hear—the roaring of his own racing heart.

Okay, so she’d left a little abruptly, but she’d kissed him first. A step in the right direction, he told himself again, and
there, alone in the dark, smiled.

The next morning Tara rose and showered, determined to make their guests the most outstanding breakfast they’d ever had. She
would burn nothing. First, though, she went to wake Chloe as Chloe had requested—but her bed was empty. Tara hadn’t heard
her come in after rock climbing, but most likely she was already in the inn kitchen making a mess.

Resigned, Tara walked to the inn, let herself into the kitchen, and prepared to be annoyed.

But the kitchen was empty. Huh. Tara called Chloe’s cell, but it went right to voice mail. She tried Maddie next.

“ ’Lo?” came Maddie’s sleepy voice. “Who’s dead?”

“Is Chloe with you at Jax’s?” Tara asked.

“It’d be a bit crowded here in his bed if she was. Why?”

“I don’t think she came home last night.”

“From rock climbing?
Crap
.” Sounding more awake now, Maddie asked the question already on Tara’s mind. “You suppose she’s in jail again?”

“Anyone’s guess.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“No,” Tara said. “You took the late shift here last night. I’ll handle this.”

“Honey, I was coming in anyway to help you serve breakfast. Give me fifteen.”

“Okay,” Tara said, grateful to have someone to worry with. “Thanks. You want to call Sawyer or should I?”

“Call Sawyer what?” Sawyer asked, coming in the back door, filling the kitchen with his big build. He was in his uniform and
looking very fine as he went straight to the coffee pot.

Tara handed him one of the to-go mugs.

“Thanks.” The very corners of his mouth tipped in a barely-there, bad-boy smile as he leaned back against the counter, the
mug in hand. “Tell me what?” he repeated.

Tara thought about not going there with him. After all, typically when Chloe got herself in some sort of trouble, poor Sawyer
was the one forced to deal with it.

But if Tara didn’t tell him and something had happened to her sister… She sighed. “Chloe didn’t make it home last night.”

He didn’t so much as blink, and yet there was a new
stillness about him that told her he wasn’t happy to hear this. “And she was supposed to?”

“Yes.”

“Was she with the group of rock climbers out on the Butte?”

“Possibly,” Tara said warily. “Why?”

“Because I arrested one of them this morning.”

Oh, God. “Who was it, and for what?”

“Todd Fitzgerald. Public intoxication.”

Todd. Of course. Tara sighed, and Sawyer pushed away from the counter. “I’ll make some calls.”

She knew he meant he’d call the station, the hospital… the morgue. But before he got to the door, Chloe came in—hair wild,
face flushed, wearing yesterday’s clothes and carrying her shoes.

Sawyer looked at her impassively.

“Don’t start,” she said and brushed past him. Limping.

He eyed her body carefully. “You okay?”

She turned to face him. “I’m always okay.”

There was a long, awkward beat between the two of them. There always was. Tara had no idea what to make of it or how to help.

“Don’t you have sheriff-type stuff to do?” Chloe asked him.

Sawyer gave a short shake of his head, one that clearly said
fuck it
before he moved toward the door. Tara gave Chloe a recriminating
you-are-so-rude
look, and Chloe rolled her eyes. “Sawyer,” she said with reluctant apology.

He pulled open the door. “Glad you’re home safe.”

“We were at the Butte,” Chloe said to his broad, tense back. “We ran out of gas and had to wait until daylight to catch a
ride.”

He looked at her. “It’s illegal to party out there.”

“We ran out of gas,” she repeated.

“Did you lose your cell phone too?”

Chloe sighed dramatically. “I forgot mine at home, okay? And Lance doesn’t carry one.”

Sawyer locked eyes with hers. “Were you with Todd?”

“For a while.”

“He had a phone.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

“Because it’s now residing in his personal possessions baggie for when he bails himself out after he sobers up.”

“You arrested him? Seriously?”

Sawyer was unapologetic and unmoved. “He staggered into the convenience store at five this morning, knocked over three displays,
and urinated on the magazine stand.” He shook his head. “And you and Lance have a serious death wish, you know that? What
if he’d had a medical problem out there?”

“He needed to do this, Sawyer. It isn’t my place to babysit him and tell him what he can and can’t do.”

“Jesus, Chloe, his cystic fibrosis isn’t a fucking summer cold!”

“And you think he doesn’t know that?”

“And what about you?” he asked. “Does the inhaler always do the job? I don’t think so. You can’t tell me you’ve never had
to make a trip to the ER because of an asthma attack while climbing.”

“
Nothing happened
,” Chloe said. “So I don’t get it. Why are you so pissed?”

“I’m not pissed.” His face was impassive. The cop face. “That would imply that there were feelings between us.”

Chloe stared at him for a long beat. “My mistake then,” she finally said.

Sawyer stared at her right back, then swore beneath his breath and left without another word. When the door shut behind him
with quiet fury, Chloe let out a breath.

“Gee,” Tara said in the silence. “No tension there.”

“Don’t you start too.” Chloe headed directly for the refrigerator and some leftover Not Yo Mama’s Apple Pie.

“Was it just you, Tucker, Lance, and Todd up there?” Tara asked.

“No. Lance brought a bunch of friends, and one thing led to another.”

So Sawyer was right. It
had
been a party. “I thought you can’t have sex without landing yourself in the hospital.”

“No one had sex. Or at least I didn’t.” Chloe sighed. “Bunch of stupid boys in this town.”

“Sawyer isn’t stupid.”

“And he’s not a boy, either.”

Tara watched as Chloe shoveled away the pie like she hadn’t eaten in a week. “What is he, then?”

“Hell, Tara, do I need to give you the birds and the bees talk? Why can’t you get the deets off the Internet like all the
other kids these days?”

When Tara laughed, Chloe relaxed slightly. “I really don’t want to talk about it,” she said.

“A common theme amongst us sisters,” Tara said.

“What’s this?” Chloe asked. “Regret? From the most private sister of them all?” Without waiting for an answer, she took her
plate to the sink and headed to the door. “I’m out.”

When Tara was alone, she sighed. “Yeah. I’d definitely call it regret.” Shaking it off, she began pulling out all the ingredients
she needed for the Good Morning Sunshine Casserole, which she’d adapted from Mia’s recipe. She was grating cheese when the
back door and the door leading to the hallway opened at the same time.

Logan came in one, and Ford the other.

Immediately, the testosterone level shot up and hit maximum velocity in two point zero seconds as both men stared at each
other over Tara’s head.

“Well, if it isn’t the drinking buddies,” Tara said dryly. “Should I break out the mimosas, boys?”

“I just came by to help,” Logan said. “Since you keep burning meals and all.”

“How are you going to help?” Ford asked. “You actually cook?”

“Well, no, but I give real good help,” Logan said with a charming smile in Tara’s direction.

“
I
cook,” Ford said.