The Sweetest Thing
Page 35
“What?”
“Kiss it and make it better.”
He was crazy. She was crazy. “Ford—”
“Please, Nurse Daniels?”
She let out a breath, then cupped his face. It was lined with exhaustion and drawn with pain. He was beautiful. She leaned in and kissed him softly on first one rough cheek, and then went for the other; but he turned his head and caught his mouth with hers, kissing her hard and deep.
“Better?” she asked breathlessly a long moment later.
“No,” he said very solemnly. “More.”
“Ford, about…” The marriage proposal. Had he meant to say it? Did he even remember saying it? She looked into his eyes and had no idea how to bring it back up. “When you—”
From within her purse, her cell phone rang with insistence.
“Maybe Logan’s gotten stung again,” Ford said hopefully as Tara dug the phone out.
“Hey,” Chloe said when Tara answered. “Our guests want to know if they could pay you to make them a dinner basket to go. They want to watch the sun set somewhere with a picnic.”
Tara was standing between the couch and the coffee table, her legs bumping into Ford’s uncasted one. “Uh…” She nearly jumped out of her skin when a big, warm hand slid up the back of her calf. “Sure. But—”
Ford’s warm, determined fingers headed north and her brain stuttered.
“They want wine, too,” Chloe said. “Do we have what you need for them?”
Ford palmed Tara’s ass. Squeezed.
“Um…” she said, closing her eyes when Ford groaned softly at the feel of her.
“I know it’s a bad time,” Chloe told her sympathetically. “And that you have your hands full.”
Actually, it was Ford who had his hands full. He slipped beneath her panties now, and she trembled as she smacked at his wayward hand.
The wayward hand was not deterred.
“Hang up,” Ford said.
“Shh.”
“Hey.” Chloe sounded insulted. “I’m just passing the information on here.”
“No, not you.” Tara bit her lip to hold back her gasp when Ford slid his uncasted leg between hers, forcing her feet into a wider stance. “Oh, God.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Chloe asked suspiciously. “You sound like you’re running a marathon.”
“I’ll make the dinner,” Tara managed. “Anything else?”
“Yes, lots else,” Ford whispered. “Hang up first.”
“Well,” Clueless Chloe said in her ear, “I get the feeling that this is going to be one of those meaningful Hallmark moments for our guests, so I thought we could also do up a really nice basket with some of my—”
Ford nipped the back of Tara’s thigh to get her attention.
He had it.
She gave him a push to the chest to slow him down, but he was a man on a mission. A quick tug, and her panties hit the floor.
He was nothing if not resourceful.
“Your leg,” she hissed, then bit back her moan when he lightly stroked right over ground zero.
“Not going to use my leg,” he said.
Good grief.
“… Hellllooooo?” Chloe said. “When will you be back?” There was something new in her voice now. Definitely still suspicion, but with a big dose of humor now, too. “After you’ve taken care of Ford?”
“Yes. No. I have to go,” Tara said, desperate to get off the phone before she got off in Ford’s hands. He already had her halfway there. “I’ll be there to get the dinner together.”
“Okay, but fair warning—Maddie’s going to be coming by there with some stuff for Ford so he can manage better on his own. Jax is with her.”
“ ’Kay, gotta go.” Tara dropped the phone and tried to remember why this was a bad idea.
She couldn’t come up with one reason. “Maddie’s going to come.”
“No, I called Jax when you were in the kitchen and told him I was fine.” His voice was thick with arousal. “But you. You’re going to come, Tara. You’re going to come hard.”
“Ford. We can’t… you can’t…” She shook her head, hoping he’d see reason.
But he was most unhelpful in that regard. He’d produced a condom from God knew where and tugged her down to straddle him. He was wearing basketball shorts that Sawyer had brought for him at the hospital, which meant easy access. With a single thrust of his hips, he drove into her, pushing her to sweet ecstasy. He murmured something in her ear, something soft and sexy, but she couldn’t hear it over the roaring of her own blood as he hurled her toward cl**ax.
“Careful of your leg,” she gasped.
“It’s not my leg you should be worried about.”
Oh boy. He was right. As she flew over the edge, her heart and soul shattering in tandem, she heard herself cry out his name. And the very last thing on her mind was his leg.
Chapter 27
“It’s frustrating when you know all the answers, but nobody bothers to ask you the questions.”
TARA DANIELS
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 na**d 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 f**king 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.
“Kiss it and make it better.”
He was crazy. She was crazy. “Ford—”
“Please, Nurse Daniels?”
She let out a breath, then cupped his face. It was lined with exhaustion and drawn with pain. He was beautiful. She leaned in and kissed him softly on first one rough cheek, and then went for the other; but he turned his head and caught his mouth with hers, kissing her hard and deep.
“Better?” she asked breathlessly a long moment later.
“No,” he said very solemnly. “More.”
“Ford, about…” The marriage proposal. Had he meant to say it? Did he even remember saying it? She looked into his eyes and had no idea how to bring it back up. “When you—”
From within her purse, her cell phone rang with insistence.
“Maybe Logan’s gotten stung again,” Ford said hopefully as Tara dug the phone out.
“Hey,” Chloe said when Tara answered. “Our guests want to know if they could pay you to make them a dinner basket to go. They want to watch the sun set somewhere with a picnic.”
Tara was standing between the couch and the coffee table, her legs bumping into Ford’s uncasted one. “Uh…” She nearly jumped out of her skin when a big, warm hand slid up the back of her calf. “Sure. But—”
Ford’s warm, determined fingers headed north and her brain stuttered.
“They want wine, too,” Chloe said. “Do we have what you need for them?”
Ford palmed Tara’s ass. Squeezed.
“Um…” she said, closing her eyes when Ford groaned softly at the feel of her.
“I know it’s a bad time,” Chloe told her sympathetically. “And that you have your hands full.”
Actually, it was Ford who had his hands full. He slipped beneath her panties now, and she trembled as she smacked at his wayward hand.
The wayward hand was not deterred.
“Hang up,” Ford said.
“Shh.”
“Hey.” Chloe sounded insulted. “I’m just passing the information on here.”
“No, not you.” Tara bit her lip to hold back her gasp when Ford slid his uncasted leg between hers, forcing her feet into a wider stance. “Oh, God.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Chloe asked suspiciously. “You sound like you’re running a marathon.”
“I’ll make the dinner,” Tara managed. “Anything else?”
“Yes, lots else,” Ford whispered. “Hang up first.”
“Well,” Clueless Chloe said in her ear, “I get the feeling that this is going to be one of those meaningful Hallmark moments for our guests, so I thought we could also do up a really nice basket with some of my—”
Ford nipped the back of Tara’s thigh to get her attention.
He had it.
She gave him a push to the chest to slow him down, but he was a man on a mission. A quick tug, and her panties hit the floor.
He was nothing if not resourceful.
“Your leg,” she hissed, then bit back her moan when he lightly stroked right over ground zero.
“Not going to use my leg,” he said.
Good grief.
“… Hellllooooo?” Chloe said. “When will you be back?” There was something new in her voice now. Definitely still suspicion, but with a big dose of humor now, too. “After you’ve taken care of Ford?”
“Yes. No. I have to go,” Tara said, desperate to get off the phone before she got off in Ford’s hands. He already had her halfway there. “I’ll be there to get the dinner together.”
“Okay, but fair warning—Maddie’s going to be coming by there with some stuff for Ford so he can manage better on his own. Jax is with her.”
“ ’Kay, gotta go.” Tara dropped the phone and tried to remember why this was a bad idea.
She couldn’t come up with one reason. “Maddie’s going to come.”
“No, I called Jax when you were in the kitchen and told him I was fine.” His voice was thick with arousal. “But you. You’re going to come, Tara. You’re going to come hard.”
“Ford. We can’t… you can’t…” She shook her head, hoping he’d see reason.
But he was most unhelpful in that regard. He’d produced a condom from God knew where and tugged her down to straddle him. He was wearing basketball shorts that Sawyer had brought for him at the hospital, which meant easy access. With a single thrust of his hips, he drove into her, pushing her to sweet ecstasy. He murmured something in her ear, something soft and sexy, but she couldn’t hear it over the roaring of her own blood as he hurled her toward cl**ax.
“Careful of your leg,” she gasped.
“It’s not my leg you should be worried about.”
Oh boy. He was right. As she flew over the edge, her heart and soul shattering in tandem, she heard herself cry out his name. And the very last thing on her mind was his leg.
Chapter 27
“It’s frustrating when you know all the answers, but nobody bothers to ask you the questions.”
TARA DANIELS
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 na**d 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 f**king 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.
