The Sweetest Thing (6 page)

Maddie took over as Chloe pulled out her inhaler and took a puff.

“Who are you writing those recipe cards for anyway?” Chloe asked Tara.

“My daughter,” Tara said without thinking.

“Aw.” That made Maddie smile. “That’s sweet. Think she’ll get to read them?”

Tara shook her head. “The adoption was closed. I can’t find her. She’d have to find me.” She heard the wistfulness in her
voice and purposely closed her mouth, not wanting to go there. She’d spent a lot of time not going there. It was her own private
guilt and shame, that she’d had to give up a baby.

“While we’re on the subject,” Chloe said, “you ready to tell us who was the father yet?”

Tara gave her a long look. Her ex had called it her “Don’t Make Me Kick Your Ass” look.

It didn’t daunt Chloe. “Tell the truth,” she said. “It’s Anderson from the hardware store. Yeah? Because he totally has the
hots for you.”

“No,” Tara said. “He has the hots for
Maddie
. Or he did, before she broke his heart and started dating Jax.”

“Then it’s Ford.” Chloe nodded. “Ford’s totally your Baby Daddy.”

Tara froze, then carefully, purposely, forced herself to relax. “What?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said, and grinned. “We’ve known forever, actually. I was just pulling your leg with the Anderson thing.”

“Chloe,” Maddie said quietly, “you’re ambushing her. That wasn’t in the plan.”

“The plan?” Tara repeated. “There’s a plan? What was it, to get me out on the water under the guise of Team Building, where
you could grill me?”

“No one’s grilling you,” Maddie said gently. “We’re your sisters. Your support system.”

“And seriously,” Chloe said. “You doing the whole Ignore-Ford thing was a dead giveaway anyway.
No one
ignores a man that fine.”

“We’re not discussing this,” Tara said firmly.

Chloe sighed. “I’m telling you, if we just talked instead of being repressed all the time, we’d be less grumpy. And by ‘we,’
let’s be clear. I mean you.”

“
Not
discussing,” Tara repeated.

“Sure,” Chloe said. “Fine. How about your blind date tomorrow night? Can we talk about that?”

Maddie was steering the boat back into the bay with more skill than Tara had shown earlier, but Tara didn’t care about that
as she stared at Chloe. “How did you know about the blind date?”

“Are you kidding? This is Lucky Harbor, remember? Ethel told Carol at the post office, who told Jeanine at Jax’s office, who
told Sandy, who told Lucille that Ethel set you up with her grandson—the one coming through town for a short visit. So then
Lucille tweeted it to Facebook.”

Tara just barely resisted groaning. After serving the ladies of the Garden Society the other day, Ethel had cornered Tara
to ask if Ford was courting her. Tara had choked on one of her own lemon bars, both at the old-fashioned and quaint connotation
of the word “courting”
and at the question itself. First of all, nothing about Ford was old-fashioned
or
quaint. Not given what he really wanted from her. Tara had firmly told Ethel no, that there hadn’t been any courting—she’d
kept the mutual lusting to herself—and that’s when Ethel had mentioned needing a favor.

Tara had reluctantly agreed, and Ethel had laughed. “Oh, no, dear,” she’d said. “You don’t understand. I’m doing
you
the favor. I’m setting you up with my grandson Boyd. He’s a wonderful, sweet, kind man, with a great personality.”

Chloe was grinning, and Tara refused to say that she was already regretting her decision to accept a blind date. “So I’m going
out to dinner. So what?”

“So if you were as smart as I thought you are, you’d be having breakfast with Ford instead.”

Tara’s belly tightened at the thought. “I’m sure Boyd’s very nice.”

“You haven’t dated in how many years? Two? Three? Ten?”

Tara didn’t bother to answer. Mostly because she didn’t actually know.

“
Nice
isn’t what you need,” Chloe said. “You need—”

Maddie “accidentally” hit Chloe upside the head with a buoy. Tara ignored the following scuffle but took over the cockpit
so they didn’t all drown. The sails were down now so she motored them back to the docks, maybe hitting the gas a little more
energetically than necessary. She ignored Maddie’s squeak and Chloe’s whoop and concentrated. She concentrated right into
a big swell, rocking the boat hard.

“Ohmigod,” Maddie gasped, lifting her head, “
you have to steer into—
”

“My bad,” Tara said.

“And the—”

“I
know
,” Tara said.

“Do you also know that you’re a know-it-all?” Chloe asked casually, straightening up and adjusting her bikini.

When Tara just gave her a long look, Chloe shrugged. “We were just wondering.”

“
We
?” Tara glanced over at Maddie, who winced.

Wheezing audibly now, Chloe pulled out her inhaler again, shook it, and took another hit. She paused to hold her breath for
ten seconds, then exhaled. “I’m not supposed to wrestle,” she said reproachfully to Maddie, then turned back to Tara. “And
yes,
we
.”

Tara swallowed a ball of unexpected hurt. “You two were discussing me being a know-it-all.”

“Actually,” Chloe said, “we were discussing your anal-retentiveness, your obsessive need to be right, and your all-around
general crankiness.”

“I’m not cranky.”

Chloe laughed. “But you
are
anal and always right?”

“I’m
careful
,” Tara said, lifting her chin, feeling defensive. Dammit. “And as for always being right, someone has to be.” Okay, so she
knew she wasn’t always right but they’d been talking about her. And yes, maybe she was a little hard on them sometimes, but
she was hard on everyone she cared about. She didn’t see the value in letting Chloe suffer through mistakes she’d made due
to the wild abandon of youth. Chloe hadn’t had any guiding hand growing up with Phoebe, but Tara had at least had her father.

Which hadn’t saved me from a few pretty major lapses in good judgment…

Tara shrugged that off, focusing on navigating the boat into the slip. She wanted a good relationship with her sisters, and
in spite of the bickering, she knew it was happening. They were getting closer.

But the real goal here was making a go of the inn. It had to be. Distracted, she miscalculated how much to crank to the left
and hit the boat slip. “Sorry,” she called out as they all nearly fell to the deck. “But some assistance would be helpful!”

“You’re doing fine,” Maddie murmured.

“For a know-it-all, right?”

“Tara,” Maddie said softly, apology heavy in her voice. “I—”

“No, it’s okay.” Tara shook it off. “Really. It’s okay that you two discussed my personal life without me around to defend
myself—”

“Hey, we do it right in front of you, too,” Chloe said.

Tara shook her head and moved to follow Chloe off the boat, but ended up plowing into the back of her when Chloe stopped suddenly.
“What are you—”

Chloe was staring ahead, and Tara joined her at it, even letting out a soft “oh my.”

Ford stood on the deck of his racing Finn. Every single inch of him was drenched, making his board shorts and T-shirt cling
to that built body as he maneuvered into his slip, his arms outstretched as he reached out to tie up the boat.

Tara had always loved his arms. They were sinewy and strong, yet capable of incredible tenderness. He gave
some damn fine grade-A comfort when he put his mind to it. And his hands… they could handle rough waters or stroke her into
orgasmic bliss with equal aplomb.

“You okay?” Chloe asked Tara over her shoulder without tearing her gaze off Ford.

“Yes. Why?”

“Because you just moaned.” She craned her neck and eyed Tara. “And probably you should check for drool.”

Tara gave her a nudge that might have been more like a push, then surreptitiously checked for drool. Then she went back to
staring at Ford. Given the look of satisfaction on his face, he’d enjoyed his sail, and something pinged low in her gut because
she’d seen that look on his face before: when he’d been stretched out above her, as intimately joined to her as a man could
get.

She made another sound before she could stop herself, then bit her lip. Bending, she concentrated on tying up their boat,
but her fingers wouldn’t work. “Dammit.”

Two hands appeared in her vision—big, work-roughened hands—not taking over the task, but guiding her into the correct knot.
“Like this,” Ford said.

“I was fixin’ to do it myself.”

“She can do everything by herself,” Chloe told him, heavy on the irony. “Bless her heart.”

Tara straightened and shot Chloe a look, and got an eye roll in return.

“Come on, Mad,” Chloe said. “I think Tara needs a little time out.” And then she took her itty bitty bikini-clad body toward
the inn, Maddie in tow.

Once again leaving Tara with Ford.

Tara flashed a vague smile in his direction without looking directly into his eyes—the key to not melting, she’d discovered—and
went to step onto the dock.

Ford slid his hand in hers to assist, not letting go of her, even after she tried to tug free. He merely tightened his grip
and waited her out.

With a deep breath, she tipped her head back and met his gaze. And yep, right on cue, as she took in the two-day stubble on
his square jaw, the fine laugh lines around his mesmerizing eyes and the effortlessly charming smile, she melted like a glob
of butter on a stack of pancakes.

“What?” he asked.

She studied his big, wet, gorgeous self and slowly shook her head. “Why couldn’t you have gone bald or gotten fat?” It really
was a bee in her bonnet that he looked even better now at thirty-four than he had at seventeen. “The least you can do is burp
or scratch an impolite body part, or something equally unattractive.”

His brow shot up. “You want me to scratch my ass?”

“Yes,” she said. “And maybe you could also pick your nose in public.”

His smile came slow and sure.

“
What?
”

“You want to jump me.”

God, yes. “Look, I have bigger problems than this, okay? Problems far more pressing than our being comfortable with each other
now that we’re living in the same town again.”

Ford looked at her for a beat, then stepped into her space, crowding her up against the wall of the marina
building. “I can give you something to take your mind off your other problems,” he said in a silky promise.

There was no doubt in her mind.

Sensing capitulation, he pressed his mouth to the underside of her jaw. “Just say the word.”

Word
, she thought dizzily with a delicious shiver.

With a single stroke of his finger along her temple, he pulled back, eyes dark on hers as he waited.

Sex. Just sex. And it’d be great. But not enough. Not nearly enough. “No,” she said with far more resolution than she felt.

If he was disappointed, he didn’t let it show as he backed away, leaving her leaning against the wall for support, her clothes
wet from his body, her body overheated to say the least.

Not a new state when it came to him.

When he was gone, Tara blew out a shaky breath and headed up to the inn. She entered the cool, fresh rooms and gave herself
a minute.

“Ms. Daniels? You okay?”

Tara turned to Carlos Rodriguez, the local high school kid they’d hired for the summer to do odd jobs like moving furniture,
painting, and cleaning. With his multiple visible piercings and homeboy pants that hung just a little south of civilized,
they’d all been a little leery of just how good a worker he might turn out to be, but he’d done well. At seventeen, he was
already six feet tall, with a lanky build that suggested he didn’t get three squares a day.

Tara knew from his application and obtaining his work permit from school that he was smart but an underachiever, and possibly
a bit of a troublemaker. But that’s
what happened when a kid had no authority figure in his life and was forced to work odd jobs to support himself, his younger
siblings, and his grandma.

“I’m fine,” Tara assured him.

“I did the weeding and painted the laundry room.”

“Perfect. Did you eat lunch?”

“Yes.”

She bit back a sigh at the lie. “I left you a sandwich in the fridge.”

“Thanks, but—”

“No buts. Eat it.”

He turned away so she couldn’t see his face. “I’ll bring it home with me.”

Where he’d undoubtedly give it to his sisters or grandma. “Eat it here. I’ll make you more to bring home.”

He turned back and looked at her for a long beat, clearly struggling between pride and hunger. The lure of food won out, and
he went into the kitchen.

Chloe came into the room from the hallway, pulling her cute little sundress on over her bikini. “Hope you’re pleased with
yourself,” she said to Tara. “You chased Maddie away again. Little Miss Hates-Confrontations just up and vanished for friendlier
waters.”

“There was no confrontation.”

“Are you kidding me?” Chloe said. “You’re a walking confrontation.”

“What are you talking about?
You’re
the one who starts everything. You never know when to just keep something to yourself.”

Chloe stood hands on hips, irritated. “Because sweeping things under the carpet and keeping everything deep
inside would make me what,
you
? Sorry, no can do, Sis. But since you’re never going to see my side of this, maybe we should just agree to disagree.”

“Fine,” Tara said.

“Fine. And let’s not speak for a while either, at least until you can admit you’re actually wrong once in a blue moon.”

“I’d be happy to admit I was wrong,” Tara said. “If I was.”

Chloe tossed up her hands, then turned to Carlos as he came back from the kitchen, eating the sandwich. “Hey, Cutie,” she
said with her usual easy charm, as if she hadn’t just been snarling at Tara. “What’s up?”

Carlos shot her a rare smile.

Chloe had that effect on men.

“Almost done for the day unless you have anything else.”