The Sweetest Thing

“What? Are you kidding me?” He shoved his hands into his hair, and arms up, muscles taut, he turned in a full circle. When he faced her again, a very rare display of temper and frustration was showing on his face. “No one has ever had any luck stopping you when you have your mind set on something, Tara, and you damn well know it.”

“But you never even tried.” Her throat was tight with remembered pain. God, the pain. She didn’t want to ever feel that scared and alone and anxious again. Yes, she’d been the one to walk, but she’d been so young and stupid. “You never even attempted to contact me.”

She’d been okay with that in the end. Because the clean break had given her the time to get over the heartbreak without having to constantly relive it. But it was bothering her now, she realized. Deeply. She knew Ford felt very strongly about her, but she wasn’t sure he felt strongly enough. Certainly not enough to want to stick for real, for the long haul. And with him, she was begi

Sure, back then he’d been willing to make things work, but the promise and drive of a teenager didn’t mean that it would have. And what did teenagers know about love anyway? If he’d really been right for her, wouldn’t he have followed after her, or at least tried?

She knew he’d wanted to do the right thing by her, she believed that. And he was a good guy: reliable, warm, caring… but she could only go on what she knew. And she knew she hadn’t been important enough to him.

She had no reason to think now would be any different.

“I remember things differently,” he said quietly. “I remember that you gave up. You ran. I’d have gladly taken it to that happy-ever-after you were too guilt-ridden to allow yourself.”

She swallowed hard against both the recrimination in his voice and the truth of that statement. “What’s done is done,” she said. “And it’s not just us now. There’s Mia. We can’t play at this anymore, Ford, not when so much is at stake. She’s fragile and working through her adopted parents’ split. We can’t mess her up. We can’t.” She turned away, then changed her mind. He deserved the truth. “It’s just that if by some miracle we made this work now, then…” She swallowed hard and whispered, “then maybe we really might have been able to work it out back then, too. And that kills me, Ford. All that pain I caused… for nothing.”

Looking stu

She’d never really realized it but he was right. Deep down she felt she needed to be punished for giving up Mia.

Ford was watching her, eyes solemn. “I have all those thoughts too, you know,” he said. “The guilt. You’re not alone in this.”

She let out a breath. “How do you always know what I’m thinking?”

Ru

He was still touching her face, his other hand low on her back, holding her against him, and she fought the urge to turn her face into his palm. “So if I turn the page, then what?”

“Your choice,” he said. “It always was. But know this. You’re not alone. There are two of us now. Actually, there are three.”

She dropped her forehead to his chest. He was big and warm and strong. Strong enough to share her burdens, at least for this moment. She shifted closer without even realizing it, then closer still. His heart was beating calm and even. His eyes were warm as he looked at her.

Into her.

She thought about how he’d said that he felt all the same things that she did, and an old, familiar closeness and tenderness welled up within her. She lifted her head and leaned back against the closed pantry door. “Ford?”

“Yeah?” He was steady and even. A rock.

Her rock.

Tired of thinking, tired of trying to keep in mind a viable reason why they needed to steer clear of each other, she followed her gut and put her lips on his. Which was when the door of the pantry suddenly opened behind her, and she spilled out, right into Logan’s waiting arms.

Chapter 14

“Generally speaking, if your mouth is moving, you aren’t learning much.”

TARA DANIELS

What the hell?” Logan stared down at Tara in surprise, then lifted his head and eyed Ford.

Before Tara could budge, Chloe came into the kitchen. She took one look at Tara-in a Logan-and-Ford sandwich-and tossed up her hands. “I swear to God, I don’t get it.” With a shake of her head, she pivoted and walked out.

Logan was still sizing up Ford.

Who was sizing up Logan right back.

Tara pushed free of both men. “This is awkward. I’m going to go finish my work.” She’d pla

Logan pulled her around to face him, a small smile on his face, his eyes serious. “Avoiding me?”

“Little bit.” She blew out a breath. “Logan, why are you really here?”

“I already told you.”

“You think you miss me.”

“I do miss you,” he said. “I miss you traveling with me, I miss the way you always made coffee in the mornings, and how you packed for me. I miss you taking care of me.”

“Oh, Logan.” She heaved out a sigh. “I’m not that woman anymore.” Not even close. “And your world… it’s big and shiny and exciting, and I’m… not. Lucky Harbor is not. So I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you?” His eyes were soft as they skimmed over her features. “You’re smart and fu

“Is that what this is? You want someone who doesn’t yes you?”

“See that?” he said, smiling at her raised voice. “No one ever gets mad at me. No one but you.” He gave her the eyes-the Logan bedroom eyes-and in spite of herself, she sighed again.

“I really did miss you, Tara.” He put his hands on her waist and his mouth to her ear. “Tell me you missed me, too.”

He was familiar and comfortable, and a part of her wanted to sink into that.

Luckily, a bigger part of her wanted to smack him. “Logan, these past few years…” She’d ached for him. She’d wanted him to come after her. She’d dreamed about it, much the way she once upon a time had dreamed about Ford doing the same.

But he hadn’t. No one ever had.

“I’m too busy to miss you,” she finally said, unwilling to reveal something so pathetic. “I’m sorry.”

Logan searched her gaze, his smile fading some. “No, I deserved that. I spent way too much time being too busy for you, didn’t I?” Moving further into her personal space, he gently tugged at a loose strand of her hair. His eyes were warm in that just-for-her way, the look that used to melt all her clothes off in a blink.

But that had been when she’d been Mrs. Logan Perrish, back when Tara Daniels had barely existed. She didn’t want to go back to that.

“You’re tired. You’re overworked,” he chided gently. “I called you yesterday, wanting to come help. And don’t think the irony got by me. I realize it used to be you helping me. So really, it’s me who’s sorry, Tara. So damned sorry.”

She pressed her fingers to her eye sockets. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I got over it.”

“And over me,” Logan mused quietly. “I won the Sprint Cup last year.”

“I know.” She smiled at him. “One of your biggest dreams.”