The Sweetest Thing

Chapter 27

Touching Tara kept the leg pain from hitting the circuits in Ford’s brain. There was only room for one sensation at a time, and his hunger for her won out.

That worked for him. She worked for him. He couldn’t get enough. He had no idea how it was that he was lucky enough to have her with him here, but since he’d made a lifelong habit of not questioning things, he just accepted it. Accepted that she’d once again worked her way into his heart and made herself right at home.

For good this time. He knew that much.

They were still both breathing unsteadily, sweaty and tangled. He stroked a hand down her back, and she practically purred. He could hear his phone vibrating from the pocket of his shorts, but with his hands full of warm, sated woman, he couldn’t give a shit.

“Are you okay?” Tara murmured.

“I just came so hard my eyes rolled back in my head. I’m so okay I can’t believe it.”

“I meant your leg.” She slipped out of his arms. “But good to know where you’re at.”

“And where’s that?”

“Mellow from the great sex,” she said, looking around for her clothes. “Or maybe it’s the drugs.”

“No, pretty sure it’s you,” he said mildly. “And I hate to disagree with a very gorgeous, very naked lady, but that was more than sex.”

Someone knocked at the door. Tara clutched her dress to her chest and peeked stealthily out the window. “Sawyer,” she hissed, bending over for her underwear, giving Ford a world-class view.

“So,” he said, getting hard again. “I guess the question is-how much more than sex was that?”

She stopped in the act of buttoning her dress. “What?”

“If you ask me, I’d say it was way more than just sex. But ‘way’ probably isn’t an apt descriptive adjective.”

Tara stared at him. “And maybe our definitions of ‘way’ are different.”

“Dilemma,” he agreed. “Maybe you should just tell me in your own words.”

“Now? With Sawyer at the door?”

“That’d be great,” he said with relief, pulling up the basketball shorts and adjusting himself since round two was apparently not in the cards. Fucking Sawyer.

“I’m going to need more time than we have available,” Tara said.

“Really? You couldn’t just say ‘it’s a fucking boatload more than just sex, Ford, thanks for asking’?”

She shoved her feet into her heels. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”

He caught her with his crutch and reeled her down to the couch next to him, ignoring Sawyer’s next knock. “Stop waiting for me to let you walk away.”

She eyed him speculatively. “What should I do instead?”

Fair question, he supposed. “How about we give each other everything we can, and not blame each other for what we can’t?”

“That didn’t work out for us before.”

“Because you left without looking back,” he pointed out.

“I had a problem, if you’ll remember. I was pregnant.”

“We had a problem,” he said.

Sawyer knocked again, less politely this time. “Ignore him,” Ford said.

“I don’t run anymore,” Tara said quietly. “I stay and fight.”

“Well, good. Because-”

The front door opened, and Sawyer stood there looking pissed off. “Okay. When you’re alive,” he told Ford, “you pick up your damn phone and answer your damn door.” He took in the two of them squared off on the couch, nose to nose, with Ford half dressed and Tara looking uncharacteristically mussed up. “Need a moment?”

“No,” Tara said.

“Yes,” Ford said, holding firm to Tara so she couldn’t bail, because if he had to chase her he was going to lose and that would be embarrassing.

Without a word, Sawyer vanished into the kitchen, and they heard him foraging around in the cupboards, no doubt planning on eating Ford out of house and home.

Ford looked at Tara. “Stay and fight then,” he said. “For us.”

She looked at him with a mixture of anxiety and hope. “While giving everything I can and not blaming you for what I can’t?” she asked softly.

“That’s right.” He liked the look on her face, the one that said she was tempted.

“I like to analyze things,” she warned him. “Obsess. Think too much.”

“No,” he said straightfaced. “Not you.”

“I’m serious.”

He smiled. “Yes, I know. Look, I’m sure I’ll give you plenty to analyze and obsess over. Let’s start now. I have certain parts that need analyzing and obsessing.”

“Sawyer’s in the kitchen!” she hissed.

“He won’t listen.” Ford yawned, fighting against the sudden weight of his eyelids. “Or he’ll pretend not to, at least.”

“Your meds are making you sleepy.” She sounded concerned.

“No they’re not.” Yes, they were. But he didn’t care. He wanted her again. And then again. Maybe she’d do all the work this time, just this once. He’d owe her. He was good for it.

“Ford, I listened to what you told Mia at the hospital.”

“I know. I saw your heels beneath the curtain. So you know that I like to change the locks on Jax.”

“And that you think you were bad news for me. Or that I was made for better things than being stuck with you in a town I hated.” Her voice shook. “I never felt that way, Ford. Ever.” She shook her head. “You were very important to me. You were my best friend. I just didn’t know how to be your best friend. I didn’t know how to give myself. I didn’t learn that for a long time. When I got married to Logan, I still didn’t know, and I went the other way and gave too much. I’m only now learning the happy medium.”

Tenderness filled him. “I know,” he said gently. “And you’ve seemed happier lately than I’ve ever seen you.”

“Yes. That’s because of you.”

“Me?”

Tara smiled. “You.” She kissed him, then hopped up, pulling her hair into some complicated twist. “I have to go. Our guests at the inn need me to get a picnic dinner together.” Turning back to him, she was all put together again-cool and calm and gorgeous.

His.

He hoped.

“Ford?”

“Hmm?” he said, or he thought he did. He felt her come closer and smiled. “You smell good.”

“I love you,” she whispered.

Emotion burst through him, and he closed his eyes for a second to absorb it. He could hear her moving around as if she was at home. He liked that. A lot. Liked watching her. But then he realized he wasn’t watching her; he was looking at the backs of his eyelids.

Huh. By the time he forced his eyes open, he was alone. “Tara?”

“Not exactly. But I can put on a Southern accent and get all pissy and bossy if you want.”

Sawyer.

Ford looked around. He was still on the couch. Sawyer was leaning back in a chair eating chips and watching TV, his boots on the arm of the couch near Ford’s face.

Ford shoved them. “What happened?”

“You needed a time-out,” Sawyer said.

“Tara?”

“Gone.” Sawyer cocked his head. “You’re not firing on all cylinders.”

No shit. Tara was gone, and Ford wasn’t sure if he’d really heard what he wanted to hear-what he’d wanted to hear for a very long time-or if he’d just dreamed it. “Did she say…?”

“Say what?”

I love you… “Nothing. Forget it.”

“She totally fondled you when she kissed you goodbye. You don’t remember?”

“No.”

Sawyer shrugged and lifted the bag to pour the last of the crumbs straight into his mouth. “Your loss. A woman like that fondles me, I remember.”

Tara headed back to the inn. Although it felt as if she’d been gone all day, it had only been four hours from start to finish since she’d looked out the kitchen window in time to see Ford fall from the tree.

She never wanted to feel her heart hit her toes like that again. The run out to him had seemed to take forever, and then seeing his leg, his pain, had nearly killed her.

She thought of how she’d just left him, sated and relaxed and feeling no pain, and felt a little better. Inside the inn, she found Chloe in the sunroom, giving their guests facials. For a minute, Tara stood in the doorway watching her baby sister work, appearing both surprisingly professional and yet so sweet. Chloe had everyone laughing and smiling and completely at ease in a way that Tara could never have managed. She was still marveling over that when Chloe looked up and caught sight of her.

“Just lay back and relax now,” Chloe said to their guests, and light on her feet, moved toward Tara, pushing her out into the hallway.

“Hey,” Tara said. “Smells good in there.”

“It’s the oatmeal and honey mix in the facial. It smells delicious when it’s warmed. Don’t panic; I realize the inn doesn’t have a license for a spa, but I’m not charging; it’s a freebie. I’ll make sure to have Maddie start applying for the right licenses before I ever think about charging anyone.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“Okay, what were you going to say? Let me have it. Or should I save you some time? Yes, I stole your heavy cream, but I replaced it this morning. It helps make the facial smooth.”

“I don’t mind,” Tara said.

But Chloe was on a roll. “And yeah, okay, I ate the last of your Not Yo Mama’s Apple Pie. But…” She flashed her poker-face smile. “You’re getting sex, great sex by the look of you, so in all fairness, you don’t need the pie, right? And I made brownies to replace it anyway. You can add them to your picnic dinner.”

Tara felt a little dizzy with the quick subject changes, not to mention that this Chloe-a non-lazy, responsible Chloe-was a welcome surprise. “You did?”

“Okay, no. Mia made them. That girl most definitely inherited Ford’s talent in the kitchen.” Chloe waited a sly beat, just long enough for Tara to frown before laughing softly. “And yours, of course. Anyway, the husband’s allergic to a lot of veggies, did you know that? So instead of veggie oil, Mia used applesauce, of all things. And the brownies came out fantastic. If I hadn’t seen her do it with my own eyes, I’d have sworn you made them.”

Tara shook her head. Definitely dizzy. “Chloe…”

“Yeah, yeah, yell at me for all of it later, okay? I’ve got to get back in there.”

“No, Sugar. You don’t understand.” She reached for Chloe’s hand. “I’m not mad at all. Are you kidding? You used your own spare time to do my job, you covered my ass, and you’re making the inn a day spa on top of it? You’re a lifesaver.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes. “You take some of Ford’s pain meds?”

“What? No!”

“You sure?”

“Yes! Chloe, I’m trying to say that I’m impressed. And that maybe I was too harsh when I said you never grew up. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Chloe arched a brow. “Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit. Did you almost-almost, mind you, but not quite-admit you were wrong about me?”

“Listen, I know I’ve been hard on you-”

“You were wrong,” Chloe said flatly. “Say it.”

Tara sighed. “Okay, fine. You’re right. I was wrong.”

“Wow. And you didn’t even choke on it.” Chloe grinned. “Now if only you’d get that stick extracted from your ass and admit that you’re also over your head in the love department, we’d all be able to enjoy ourselves.”

“My relationship with Mia is a work in progress.”

“I meant Ford.” Chloe leaned in and sniffed at her neck. “You smell like him, you know.”

Tara felt the heat on her face. “You should probably get back to the guests.”

With a soft, knowing laugh, Chloe headed into the sunroom. Tara blew out a breath and moved into the kitchen to get the picnic dinner together. She was planning on ham pinwheel sandwiches with brie, herbs, and nuts. She was going to call them Pigs-in-a-Wheel Delectables.

Mia came in and silently began chopping the herbs and nuts. Tara felt a little burst of pride and affection fill her. They really did work well as a team. She smiled, then felt her smile congeal when she caught a good look at Mia’s face. “You’ve been crying.”

“No.” Even as Mia said it, her eyes filled. She sniffed and swiped angrily at her eyes. “I’m not crying.” And then she burst into tears.

Crap. Shit. Damn. Tara very gently took the knife out of Mia’s fingers as the teen babbled something in a long watery string. The only words that Tara caught were “stupid ass,” “thinks he knows what’s best,” and “going to hunt him down.”

Tara nudged the knife farther out of their way and risked both her heart and the silk of her dress by hugging Mia in close.

Mia slumped against her. “H-he said that when the s-summer’s over and I go to S-Spain, we won’t see each other anymore. Ever.”

Ah. Carlos. “Well, Spain’s pretty far away and expensive to get to, but I’m sure when you’re back in Seattle, you’ll-”

“No, it’s not the distance. He says that he’ll hold me back. That I need to go and have the whole college experience. He thinks it’s unrealistic to expect… he says it’s easier to break clean now. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.”

“And you said…”

“I said that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! That he’s just a big chickenshit! That if he loved me, it wouldn’t matter how far away I was; we’d make it work.”

Oh God, the irony, Tara thought. “Maybe he’s trying to protect you. Maybe he wants to make sure you get everything you deserve out of life. And the only way he thinks he can make sure you do that is to push you away.”

“Well, that’s just stupid,” Mia cried. “I’ll get what I want out of life on my own. It’s not up to him to get it for me, or to make my decisions.”

Tara hugged her as the girl sobbed with the abandon of a despairing teenager. God knew Tara herself had cried buckets when she’d been this age, but then again, she’d been in a different situation.

Sort of.

She thought about Carlos trying to protect Mia and felt her heart squeeze for him. For the selflessness…

And then closed her eyes as her heart nearly stopped beating. Back in Ford’s hospital room, when she’d been eavesdropping on him and Mia, all the reasons he’d given their daughter for the two of them not being together-they’d all been for Tara.

To protect her.

His answer was like a knife to Tara’s gut. His unselfish answer. She’d accused him of letting her go because he hadn’t cared enough, but that hadn’t been it at all. He’d let her go, thinking she deserved better.

What was it that she’d told Mia way back when? That she’d never spent any time in a small town, that she was used to more… God. All her reasons for leaving Lucky Harbor had been about herself.

She was made for better things than being stuck with me, Ford had said.

Carlos was doing the same thing, cutting off what he wanted and yearned for in order to give Mia the life he thought she deserved. Because in his eyes, she deserved more, not realizing that he deserved it, too.

She thought of Ford and physically ached. Because what about now? They were no longer seventeen, and she could decide for herself what she wanted, what she deserved.

What they both deserved.

How about we give each other everything we can and not blame each other for what we can’t, he’d said. She’d assumed he’d been talking about himself, that he didn’t want her to blame him for what he couldn’t give.

But he’d meant her, she realized. He wouldn’t blame her for what she couldn’t give.

Tara waited until Mia was reduced to hiccups before offering her a kitchen towel to mop her face.

“Mascara check,” Mia said, lifting her raccoon eyes to Tara’s. “Am I a wreck?”

Tara took back the kitchen towel and swiped beneath Mia’s eyes herself. “You’re beautiful.”

There was a knock at the back door. Carlos stood there wearing his baggy jeans and tight T-shirt, piercings glinting, eyes hooded, holding a case of cranberry juice. “Jax sent me over with this from the bar. They got a double shipment. He thought you might get use out of them.” He glanced at Mia, and his mouth went grim. “You’ve been crying.”

“Yes,” Mia said. “It’s what happens when a stupid guy dumps me.”

Still holding the case of juice, he grimaced in misery.

Tara pulled Carlos the rest of the way into the kitchen. “Could you load that into the pantry?” She turned to Mia. “He’ll need your help.”

Mia looked surprised. “But the other day you said I couldn’t be alone with him in the pantry except over your dead body.”

“You have three minutes,” Tara told her. “And if you don’t emerge exactly as you are, there will be a dead body-just not mine. Take it or leave it.”

Mia was staring at Carlos. “Take it,” she said softly.

Tara watched Carlos wait for Mia to go ahead of him before he looked back at Tara.

“There’s always a way to make things work,” she told him quietly. “If you want it bad enough.”

He nodded and followed Mia into the pantry.

Tara looked around at the empty but chaotic kitchen and for once realized she didn’t feel an ounce of the usual panic and anxiety over the mess. Instead, she felt…

Utterly at home.

She stepped out the back door and drew a deep breath of the salty air. She bent and picked a pesky weed out of the flower bed. Then she looked at her watch. Their three minutes were up. Back inside, she moved to the pantry and knocked.

No answer. Dammit. Give teenagers an inch, and they’d take a mile. She should know; she’d taken hundreds of miles when she’d been a teen. Thousands. “Hey,” she said, knocking harder, “I wasn’t kidding about the dead body.”

“It’s okay, Mom.”

Tara whirled around, her throat locked at the word “Mom.” Mia and Carlos stood there, holding hands. “Oh,” she breathed, scarcely able to talk. “You called me Mom.”

“Yes. Is that okay?”

“So okay,” Tara managed. “Did you two work it out?”

“No,” Mia said softly, looking at Carlos.

He looked at her right back, not smiling, but with a world of warmth in his eyes.

“We’ve decided to enjoy the rest of the summer,” Mia said, never taking her eyes off of him. “Take it as it comes. When I leave and then come back…” She lifted a shoulder. “We’ll see.”

“Sounds very grown up,” Tara managed, nearly losing it at the look on Carlos’s face as he watched Mia. He was doing his best to be cool. Calm. Collected. She recognized the technique.

But he was hurting, and her heart ached for him. He’d wanted to rip the Band-Aid off as much for him as he had for Mia. But he’d agreed to wait, knowing the painful sting was coming eventually. Very likely, he didn’t believe in good outcomes for himself. That was okay. She had a feeling that Mia believed enough for all of them. “How about helping me out in here?” she asked them.

They chopped. Sautéed. Stirred. Tasted. By the time the food was finished, Tara was red-faced and sweaty, which she knew because Mia forced her to view her own reflection in a spoon.

Mia was grinning. “You look…”

Tara stared at herself. “Like a mess. A complete mess.”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Mia said.

That afternoon, Tara had her first real success right there in the kitchen, both with the meal and her time with her daughter, and she realized it was because of love.

If she cooked with love, things came out right.

So maybe if she lived with love… same thing? With love maybe she could be a real chef, a mom, a sister, a lover.

She could be anything she wanted.

She could have anything she wanted.

God, she really could. She looked at Mia. “I have to go for a few minutes. Can you man the phone?”

“Of course. Maddie and Chloe are here, too.”

Tara grabbed her keys and ran outside. She had to go to Ford, had to tell him all she’d realized, but there he was in the yard, struggling out of the passenger seat of Sawyer’s truck.