The Sweetest Thing (12 page)

More than sex, apparently. But secretly she’d hoped for
exactly
that, for something, anything, to show her that this was more than just a good time in the sack, that…

That they
deserved
another shot.

“New boyfriend?” Logan asked.

She nearly snapped out a sarcastic answer, but as he’d asked quietly and utterly without judgment, she found herself being
honest. “More like an old one,” she told him. It felt so odd to see him, fit and rangy and beautiful as ever. She waited for
the inevitable heart pang at just the sight of him, but all she felt was the ache for what had once been.

And what hadn’t been.

“You once told you me that you’d only had one serious boyfriend before me,” he said. “From when you were young.”

“Yes.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “And that’s him? That’s the one you…?”

She grimaced. Logan knew about the baby. He’d been the only one she’d ever told, because she hadn’t wanted that kind of secret
between them after they’d married. “Yes.”

“Are you together now?” Logan asked.

“No.” But as soon as the word left her mouth, she wished it back—she and Ford
weren’t
together, so why the little stab of regret and the uncomfortable feeling that somehow she’d just been disloyal? “I don’t
really know,” she corrected.

“Okay,” Logan said, nodding to himself. “Unexpected detour.”

She shook her head, baffled by his presence here, so far from his world. “Why aren’t you off somewhere racing for fortune
and fame?”

“I’m taking a season off.”

This made no sense. Racing was everything to Logan. Everything. Plus, it was difficult if not downright impossible to just
“take a season off.” There were contractual obligations to owners and sponsors to deal with, pit crews and garage staff to
keep on the books. “How can you just…”

Logan shoved the sleeve of his shirt back, revealing his arm. And the brace on it. “That last crash caused some
serious ligament damage. I’m facing a couple of surgeries, which means I’m a liability right now on the course. They’ve hired
a replacement for me. Indefinitely.”

“Oh, Logan,” Tara breathed, knowing how much racing meant to him, and what
not
racing meant, too.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I don’t mind the time off.”

“Why?”

“Because the racing world cost me something I miss. You, Tara. It cost me you.”

Tara stared at him. There’d been a time when she’d have given anything to hear him say that: her so-called career, her right
arm, anything. But things were different now.
She
was different now. “Logan—”

He shook his head. “Don’t say anything. Just think about it. Think about me, okay?”

She let out a low laugh and sank to the couch, stunned. “It took me two years to get over you. I can’t just make all that
happened between us vanish with a snap of my fingers.”

“I know, and there’s no rush,” Logan assured her. “I’m going to be here all summer, so—”

“All summer? What do you mean, all summer?”

He grinned. “To win you back, of course.” He knelt down in front of her and flashed the grin that had once been panty-melting.
“No decisions now, okay? Like I said, we have all summer.”

Oh, God. “You can’t just hang around all summer.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” She had no idea. “What will you do with yourself?”

He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’ll figure it out,”
he said. She kept him from moving in closer with a hand to his chest. “And,” he went on, looking amused at her boundaries,
“it’s a busy time for you with the opening of the inn. I can help.”

The man had two personal assistants to do his every bidding. He didn’t do his own laundry, cooking, housekeeping, accounting…
anything. “How exactly can you help?”

“Hey, I’m new and improved.” He shot her his most charming smile. “You don’t know this about me yet, but you’ll see.”

“Logan—”

“No rush, Tara. I’m a patient guy.”

And then, like Ford, he vanished into the night.

The next morning was damp and foggy. Tara got up at the crack of dawn to walk. Probably she should run, but she hated to run.
Her carefully constructed life was going to hell in a handbasket, and she was already planning on inhaling crap food by the
bundle. She needed to burn some calories as a preventative measure or she’d be forced to switch to loose sweats in no time.

Tara walked into town and down the length of the pier, waving at Lance, who was hosing down the area out front of his ice
cream shop.

Turning around at the end of the pier, she walked back. She could have gone straight to the cottage and had a nice shower
but she decided to walk through the marina to burn a few extra calories.

Or because Ford was out there on the dock.

She was drawn to him like a damn magnet. He was
surrounded by sailing boat parts, with a tool in one hand, a part in the other, and a look of concentration on his face.

When he caught sight of her, the corners of that amazing, fantasy-inducing mouth of his quirked. Only a few hours ago, he’d
been buried deep inside her, their bodies slick with sweat, their breath mingling, moving in tandem. Just in the remembering,
the air around them changed, and she was swamped with more memories.

And longing…

Their gazes caught and held though neither of them spoke. Her nerves fluttered. So did a few other body parts.

“You okay?” he finally asked.

It wasn’t a filler question. Last night had been emotional, and he had a look of genuine concern on his face. It conflicted
with the picture she had in her head of him walking out the door without a backward glance. “I’m fine.”

“Logan gone?” he asked.

“Not exactly.”

His jaw tightened, and he took a moment to answer. “What then, exactly?”

“He’s staying for the summer.” When he locked gazes with her, she lifted her hands. “Not my idea.”

He said nothing to this but his silence spoke volumes.

“So is this going to be uncomfortable now?” she asked.

He cocked his head. “Does it feel uncomfortable?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

He sighed, muttered something to himself that sounded like “don’t do it, man,” then wrapped an arm around her waist. He snugged
the lower half of his body to hers, rocking against her. “How about now?”

“No, uncomfortable is not the word I’d use,” she managed. “Ford.” Helpless against the pull of the attraction, not to mention
his easy, sexy charm, she gripped his shirt in two fists and dropped her forehead to his chest.

He stroked his hand down her hair, a movement of affection and gentle possession, and she pressed even closer.
Not again
, her brain told her body.
You are not going to have him again
. But her brain wasn’t in charge because she glanced over his shoulder at the sailboat, which had a bedroom below deck.

And a bed.

Ford followed her gaze and let out a low laugh. “Okay, but only if you ask nice.”

“Not funny,” she said and pushed away from him. “Besides, I’m all sweaty, and you’re all dirty.”

“Then we’re already halfway to where I’d like to be.”

“Stop it.”

“Hey, you’re the one who came out of your way to see me.”

That was true, which didn’t make it any less irritating that somehow he always knew what she was thinking. “I’m going to take
a shower.” A cold one.

“You want help with that?”

“No!”

“You want me bad,” Ford called after her as she walked away.

Yes, she did. Quite badly, in fact. What woman could
help wanting him in her bed? The problem was that Ford didn’t tend to exert much energy on things that were difficult. And
Tara was just about as difficult as they came. Which meant she needed to resist him and all his gorgeousness because she already
knew the ending to their story.

A few nights later, Ford was at The Love Shack serving drinks. The place was busy, which usually gave him a surge of satisfaction.
He loved being here, hearing the chatter and the laughter, knowing that he brought everyone together. He’d learned a long
time ago to make a family and a home wherever he could. This was both.

The walls of The Love Shack were a deep, sinful bordello red, lined with antique mining tools that he and Jax had collected
over the years on various adventures. Lanterns hung from the exposed-beam ceilings and lit up the scarred bench-style tables
and the bar itself, which was made of a series of old wooden doors attached end to end.

If Ford wasn’t on a boat with the wind hitting his face as he flew over the water at dizzying speeds, then he was at his happiest
here.

It was a simple lifestyle, but when it came right down to it, he was a simple guy. Growing up poorer than dirt had ensured
that. So had being loved and protected by his grandma to the best of her abilities as they’d worked their asses off. She’d
always said that someday it would pay off and she’d get to retire to Palm Springs.

It gave Ford great satisfaction that he’d been able to give that to her, that right this minute she was probably on the deck
of the Palm Springs home he’d bought her, sipping iced tea and watching the mountains. It was her
favorite pastime after cooking for him on the rare occasions he made it down there to visit, that is. She’d marvel at his
height and build every single time he walked in her door, as if she couldn’t quite believe he’d grown up from that scrawny,
undersized kid he’d once been.

Ford couldn’t blame her. He’d managed to live through his teens, and then his twenties in spite of himself, and was now working
on his thirties and being a grownup. On accepting his mistakes and living with no regrets, though his biggest regret was heavy
on his mind lately.

Tara.

“Earth to Ford.” Sawyer Thompson waved a hand in Ford’s face. “You with us? Or do you need a moment alone?”

“Thought tonight was your night off.” Sawyer was big and broad as a mountain, and could be as intimidating as hell—unless
you’d grown up with him and knew that he wouldn’t watch any Disney/Pixar flick because they made him cry like a chick. Ford
poured him a Coke—Sawyer’s standard order when he was on duty.

“Got called in.” Sawyer’s smile faded. “Unexpected trouble out at Horn Crest.”

“Hang gliders again?” Last time, the hang gliders had turned out to be Chloe, Lance, and Tucker, and they’d been arrested
for trespassing when they’d landed in Mrs. Azalea’s prized field of rhododendrons. Lance was on a mission to accumulate as
many crazy adventures as he could before his cystic fibrosis caught up with him, and Chloe and Lance’s brother Tucker were
dedicated to assisting him in his stupidity.

For some reason, this drove Sawyer insane.

Ford was just glad to see that it ran in the family, the unique ability of the three sisters to drive men right over the edge
of sanity.

“Not hang gliders this time,” Sawyer said, sounding relieved. Chloe was well-liked in town, and every time she ran into trouble
and Sawyer had to deal with it,
he
got the backlash.

Ford knew that Sawyer liked order.
Calm
order. Which meant that Sawyer and Chloe were oil and water. But like oil and water, they ended up together a lot. Karma
was a bitch with a good sense of humor.

“It was a group of teenagers,” Sawyer said. “Brought them home to their parents and caught hell from one of the mothers. She
told me I’d be a better use of her tax money if I was out catching
real
bad guys.” With a sigh, he sank to a stool and accepted the Coke. “And what are you doing here? I thought you were going
to do that race in the Gulf this weekend.”

Ford shrugged. “Maybe next time.”

Sawyer lifted a brow. “You losing your edge?”

“What? No.”

“What then? Over the hill already at thirty-four?”

“Shut up. You’re the one who threw your back out playing foosball last month.”

Sawyer scowled. “Hey, that was an amazing play. Genius even.”

“So was your having to spend the rest of the weekend on the couch whining, and then desk duty for a full week.”

“So?” Sawyer said. “It got me some great bedside treatment from the women.”

Ford snorted. “What women?”

“Hey, I have women.”

“Women on porn sites don’t count.”

“You’re being an asshole,” Sawyer said mildly. “Another sign of age. Should I tell Ciera to save you a spot in the retirement
home? And get you a prescription for Viagra?”

Ciera was Ford’s sister, a nurse who worked at a senior center in Seattle. “You’re older than me,” Ford reminded him.

“By two months, which is offset by the fact that I’m better looking. I’m also not picking a fight just to be an asshole.”

Ford blew out a breath. “I’m not racing because I didn’t feel like traveling.”

“And?”

“And Jax is too nice to our regulars, and I needed to stick around to keep him in line.”

“And?”

“And…” Shit. He had nothing.

“Admit it,” Sawyer said. “You’re not going anywhere because Tara’s ex-husband has shown up, and you don’t want to lose your
place.”

Ford shoved his fingers through his hair. “Yeah.”

Lucille sidled up to the bar. She was in her pink sweats with her crazy white hair looking like a Q-tip. Her rheumy blue eyes
landed on Ford. “A vodka on the rocks.” She tapped the bar. “So how’s it going with the Steel Magnolia?”

Ford handed her the drink. “What?”

“Don’t play stupid, honey. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Actually, it does,” Sawyer said helpfully.

Ford took away his soda.

“Hey.”

“Tara,” Lucille said to Ford. “I’m talking about Tara.” She tossed back the vodka like someone who’d been doing it for a gazillion
years. “Her ex is here. He’s a real live celebrity, you know.”

Ford sighed. He knew.

Lucille nudged him. “He’s got the edge on you, boy.”

Ford began to wish he didn’t have a thing against drinking while serving. “We’re not discussing this, Lucille.”

“Well, maybe you’re not, but everyone else is. You need to look sharp.
Sharp
.” She reached over the bar and jabbed him in the gut with her bony finger. “Are you listening?”