“We’re on the same side,” he said.

“No. I’m here for her, always. You’re here because there’s something going on between you two, something physical and clearly out of control. But when that’s done…”

He understood what she was saying. He was temporary in Chloe’s life, and Tara was not. “I just want to see her,” he said. “I want to see for myself that she’s okay.”

Tara stared at him for a long beat, clearly fighting the urge to tell him to go to hell. “Fine. I’m going to the inn to check on things. But I’ll be back in fifteen minutes, you hear?”

He stopped in Chloe’s doorway, propping up the doorjamb with his shoulder. The room was pitch-black, but if he strained, he could hear her breathing and just that sound soothed him. As a few minutes passed, he slowly felt some more of the tension drain out of his body.

Earlier, in his shower, her breathing had started out quiet like this, but then she’d gone up in flames for him. He’d loved it, loved the way she’d panted for more, clutching at him as if she was afraid he’d stop. It had gone straight to his head, more potent than any alcohol or drug.

And then in the very next beat, when she’d started to suffocate, all he’d wanted to do was breathe for her. God, he could still taste the bitter helplessness, and he hated, hated, that she’d suffered. That she’d almost died.

There was a chair by her bed, and feeling oddly wobbly, he straddled it. Reaching out, he messed with the shades so that they let in slats of pale light from the moon’s glow, enough to see her by.

Chloe lay on her side, a hand tucked beneath her cheek. Her lips weren’t blue. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get that image out of his head.

The stuff of nightmares.

The covers had slipped to her waist. She wore a thin camisole top, and one of the straps had slipped off her shoulder, nearly exposing a breast. The thin material was caught on her nipple, and his mouth actually watered.

The hem of the cami was bunched high on her waist, and with the blanket at her hip, several inches of smooth skin was bared. He watched her stomach rise and fall with each easy breath. No wheezing.

She’d showered. He could smell the scent of her shampoo and soap, and he leaned in for a better whiff. Yeah, he’d completely lost it.

Careful not to wake her, Sawyer ran a finger up her arm, intending to nudge the strap of her cami back into place. But murmuring something in her sleep, Chloe rolled, flopping to her back, covering her eyes with a flung-up arm.

Her breast escaped its confines, and in the cool night air, the nipple puckered into a tight peak.

He bit back a groan and closed his eyes. Not looking didn’t help, so he stood and pulled the covers to her chin, hiding her from his gaze. Then he sank back down to the chair, not moving from the spot until he heard Tara return, and then he left like the hounds of hell were on his heels.

Chapter 13

“Smile. It’s the second best thing you

can do with your lips.”

Chloe Traeger

Chloe awoke with a start and sat straight up, startled by her cell phone vibrating at her bedside table. “Sawyer?” she whispered. The sun was shining in through the shades, the ones she’d shut the night before.

But she was alone in the room. No Sawyer. Which was odd only because she…felt him. Blowing out a breath, she lay back and grabbed her phone. “Hello?

She’d missed the call. Squinting, she accessed her messages and listened to someone just breathing. She hit delete. The next message was the same, more of her heavy breather.

Delete.

The third message, she finally got a voice. “Hey, sweet thing.” Todd. “We need to talk.”

No, they didn’t. Delete. She sat up and looked around for Sawyer. But of course he wasn’t here. Why would he be here? Just because yesterday they’d—and she’d—and he hadn’t—

Don’t think about it.

Happy to be the Queen of Denial Town, Chloe flopped onto her belly and closed her eyes, but instead of going back to sleep, she relived yesterday with aching acuity. Sawyer giving her a ride, stopping to change Lucille’s tire, his hands moving economically and capably, his shirt stretching taut over the bunch and play of the muscles in his back and shoulders.

Mmm, those muscles. But it had been the fact that he’d helped Lucille that had grabbed her by the heart. He wanted her to think he was so badass, but the truth was, he was that good guy Lucille had accused him of. Way too good for the likes of Chloe. Sawyer’s world was black and white, and if any gray popped up, well then, he arrested it.

A lot of her life had been spent in the gray. Nothing illegal. At least not too illegal. She may not have been raised the way most kids were, but Phoebe had taught her about doing the right thing for the right reasons. That’s who she was. At least, that’s who she tried to be.

And she wanted to be loved for being that person.

She could play with Sawyer all she wanted but the fact was they were too different, and eventually it would go bad between them. Even if he could put up with her asthma issues—and those were pretty huge considering she couldn’t have sex without a tactical plan—he wouldn’t be able to put aside his code of conduct, not for the long haul.

He was bound by duty. He hadn’t caught her and Lance freeing the dogs, or trespassing, or any of the “gray” area things she did, but what if he had? What would it do to him if someday he had to make a choice between the law and her?

Realizing sleep was nothing but a distant memory, Chloe tossed back the covers and forced herself to get up. After a long, hot shower that only brought more memories, she dressed and went outside.

And came face-to-face with her Vespa.

Confused, she pulled out her cell phone and called Lance. “Hey. You okay?”

“That’s my question for you, babe,” he said, sounding just as wheezy as she’d been yesterday. Her heart kicked hard. He’d had a long hospital stay last month, complicated and awful, and he’d never quite recovered.

She was deathly afraid this was as good as it got for him. His doctors were starting to discuss lung transplants. “I’m serious, Lance.”

“Me too,” he said, breath rattling. “I’m good. I’m better.”

She wanted desperately to believe that. “Did you fix and bring home my Vespa?”

“No. Sawyer said he’d take care of it.”

So he had been here…

“Chloe? You still there?”

“Yeah.” She shook off the image of Sawyer caring enough to remember her stranded Vespa and getting someone to retrieve it. “Want lunch later? I’ll bring you something yum from Tara and also make you some more of that decongestant balm.”

“Sure. Hey, did you really go au natural at the mud springs?”

“Not quite but close enough.”

“Would have liked to see that,” he said wistfully. “How ’bout I make us a mud patch in my backyard?”

Chloe was laughing when she hung up, and her gaze snagged on the Vespa. Sawyer had come through for her. Again. She rubbed at the ache in her chest that had nothing do with asthma and headed inside the B&B. She found Tara cooking and simultaneously muttering to herself as she wrote something on a recipe card. Maddie was at the table with a stack of paperwork, probably organizing inventory and scheduling for both the inn and her wedding, as evidenced by the handful of bridal magazines spread across the table.

“Hey,” Maddie said to Chloe with a smile. “You’re up.”

Tara turned off the stove, pushed Chloe into a chair, and served her a plate of food. “Feeling better?”

Chloe stuffed her mouth with a bite of something cheesy and moaned in delight. “If I say yes, are you going to yell at me for yesterday?”

“No one’s going to yell,” Maddie said with a stern glance at Tara.

Chloe tried to tell if Sawyer had come by for coffee yet. She was staring at the pot when her sisters exchanged another glance.

“Let me save you a neck crimp,” Maddie said. “The sheriff hasn’t been here yet.”

“Nope,” Tara said. “Not yet.” Her grip was tight on her spatula, like maybe she was hoping to hit him upside the back of his head when he did show up.

Maddie shoved an open magazine at Chloe. “What do you think of this dress?”

It was a long-sleeved chiffon in an absolutely hideous Easter-colored floral print that looked like something a great-grandmother would wear. “Um…” Chloe searched for tact. “Thought you wanted a more traditional bridal dress.”

“It’s for you,” Maddie said, beaming with pride. “As my bridesmaid.”

Chloe blinked, then slid a cautious look to Tara for help.

“You don’t like it?” Tara asked innocently. “Because we’ve already ordered it for you. You should see the hat that goes with it.”

Chloe was chewing on her lower lip, trying to find something tactful to say about the dress from hell when Maddie let out a snort, her face mottled red with the effort of holding in her laughter. “Okay,” Chloe said. “That’s just mean.”

“Sorry,” Maddie said, looking anything but. “I was hoping to scare you half as bad as you scared us yesterday.”

Chloe ran a finger over the god-awful dress and shuddered in relief. “Yeah, well, consider it done.”

Maddie flipped the page over. “This is more what I have in mind for you.”

This dress was a beautiful spaghetti-strapped sundress the color of a perfect summer sky.

“I can just see you walking along the dock in it,” Maddie said, beaming.

The wedding was going to take place here at the marina, right on the water, with the reception inside the inn. Lucille, who’d become an ordained minister online, was going to do the honors.

Chloe, Maddie, and Tara oohed and aahed over the dresses for a few minutes before Tara went back to the stove and Maddie to her notes. Chloe ate and watched them both. Her sisters were happy, content to be here in Lucky Harbor doing something with their lives. And she…she needed to find her happy. If she couldn’t do that here with them, she wanted to know. “I meant what I said yesterday,” she said. “I want to do more around here than just fill in. I think I have more to offer than that.”

“Well, of course you do,” Maddie said.

“Then give me a chance. Look, I understand that over the years I haven’t exactly been the model of responsibility or reliability, but you have to admit I’ve gotten better. And we could start slow, a few days a week. See how it works out.” She took Maddie’s hand and pulled her up. Then turned off the stove and grabbed Tara’s hand as well.

She tugged them into the sunroom and pointed to the windows lining the wall. “There’s where I’d put the spa bed, so the client could look out while getting a facial, or whatever they’ve chosen. The sea is one of the most Zen things you can look at, and we have a helluva view. And I’d put a chair there,” Chloe said, pointing to a corner. “For mani/pedis. A pretty table too, where a guest could be served a delicious lunch prepared by our very own chef—” She smiled at Tara. “It’s endless. We can do bridal parties, women’s retreats, girls’ weekends, all with the promise of being far away from the hustle and bustle of real life. Can’t you see it?”

“I can,” Maddie said and looked at Tara.

“If I ask you a question,” Tara said slowly, “will you get all mad and run off and get na**d and muddy with the sheriff again?”

“Jeez, one time!” Chloe sighed. “Ask.”

“What you’re suggesting is a major change in our marketing strategy and planning. It also changes your daily grind, hugely.” She lifted her hand when Chloe opened her mouth. “I’m not saying it doesn’t have potential,” she said. “Because it does, but I have to know. If we do this, if we invest and get on board, do you really see yourself happy here, locked in one spot? Because you would be, Chloe. Even if we start with just a few days a week, that’s every week. You’d be locked in. This is one of those things called a root, sugar—which you’ve avoided like the plague your whole life. And it’s a biggie. We’ll be depending on you.”

“I know,” Chloe said. “And yes. I really see myself doing this.” Trying not to get defensive, she stood her ground. “And it’s not like it’s a cement block attached to my feet for crissake. It’s a schedule, and I can work it out to suit me.”

“Not if we put a ton of money into it,” Tara said. “If we do that, you’re going to have to put the clients first, ahead of your need to…whatever.”

Chloe swallowed, willing herself to stay calm. “I’ll pay for the necessary renovations and marketing,” she said, and bit back her retort when Tara didn’t look overly impressed at that. Because the truth was that Chloe hadn’t been able to put in as much capital for the B&B’s renovations as her sisters had. But she was finally starting to make money and was trying to make up for lost time.

“Why don’t we draw up plans and get an estimate on what it’d cost to get this room ready?” Maddie suggested with her ever-present mediatory skills. “And like everything else, we’ll decide together. Majority rules.”

Tara nodded. “Sounds good to me. Chloe?”

Not seeing much of a choice, Chloe nodded. Her sisters went back into the kitchen, and she stayed in the sunroom and let herself envision the spa room. When it was as clear as the ocean outside the window, she sat in the corner and drew her plans. Then she pulled out her cell phone and called the only contractor she knew. “Jax,” she said. “Question.”