The Sweetest Thing

“Okay,” Mia said. “So Tara left, and you… what? You just let her go?”

She sounded so disappointed, and Ford laughed softly without mirth. “God, you really did get so much from her.” He paused. “Yeah, I let her go. She wasn’t happy with me over that. It took nearly six months of her being back in Lucky Harbor before she’d even talk to me.”

“She was mad at you for letting her walk away?”

“Oh, yeah. And I deserved that.”

“But you did it out of love!” the romantic Mia said dramatically. “You thought she deserved better.”

“It wasn’t all altruistic,” he admitted. “I’ve tended to go the easy route. And Tara doesn’t know the meaning of the word easy.”

He sounded… proud, Tara thought. Proud of her.

“And what about now?” Mia wanted to know. “Now that you’re both older and together in the same place, it might end differently. Right?”

The ache deepened, spreading through Tara’s entire chest as a nurse brushed past her and in the room. “Okay, Mr. Walker,” she called out. “You’ve been cleared and released. You’re free to go if you have someone to help you home.”

Tara stepped into the room as well, and raised her hand. “That would be me.”

Ford’s eyes locked with hers. “Sawyer could-”

“It was my tree,” she said, oddly loath to let anyone else help him. “It’s the least I can do.”

Ford took up the entire backseat of Tara’s car with his stretched-out leg, leaving the front seat for Logan, which he gleefully took.

Sawyer picked up Mia and Chloe. He offered to take Ford as well, but Tara was still unwilling to part with him and used the excuse that he was already loaded in her car. She got behind the wheel, and nervous with both Ford and Logan watching her, took the first turn a little rough, nearly dumping Ford to the floor.

Logan smirked and eyed Ford in the rearview mirror. “Got to lean into the turns, Mariner Man. Learn to use your body.”

Ford gritted his teeth. “I know how to use my body just fine.”

“So do I. Tell him, Tara.”

Tara glared at Logan. “Don’t you make me stop this car. Because I totally will.”

Unrepentant, Logan shrugged. Tara went out of her way to drop him off first. When she pulled up to his rented beach cottage, he slumped in the seat. “Hey. Why do I have to go home first?”

“Because you’re the one most likely to be strangled,” she said. “By me.”

At that, Ford stopped scowling in the backseat and sat up a little straighter.

“Fine,” Logan said. “But I need you to walk me in.”

“Why?”

“Maybe I’m dizzy from the meds.”

“Cortisone makes you dizzy?”

He lifted his chin. “Yes, for your information, it does. I feel a little sick, too. I almost died, you know.”

Tara sighed, threw the car into park, and looked into the rearview mirror at Ford. “Wait here.”

“Right,” he muttered. “Because I might leap out of the car and make a run for it.”

Logan smiled evilly.

Ford flipped him off.

“Let’s go,” Tara said tightly to her ex. “Behave,” she said to Ford.

His expression told her that she shouldn’t count on it. She walked Logan up the porch. Sandy was there waiting for him, looking cute and perky.

“Oh, you poor baby!” she said, rising to her feet and moving to Logan’s side. “I heard all about it. Are you okay?”

Of course, Logan played it up. “Well, it was touch and go there for a while.” He shuddered. “But I’m going to make it.”

Sandy fussed all over him. “Let me help you inside.”

“Good idea,” Logan said, setting his head on her shoulder. “Nearly dying from anaphylactic shock is exhausting.”

Tara rolled her eyes so hard that they nearly popped right out of her head.

Paying Tara no attention, Sandy slipped her arm around Logan. “Are you really okay now? What can I do for you? Anything, just name it.”

“Oh, darlin’, that’s so sweet, but really, don’t worry about little ol’ me.”

“Don’t be silly,” Sandy exclaimed. “You need some serious TLC.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Logan murmured, leaning into her some more, sighing in pleasure.

Tara shook her head. “I assume you’re in good hands,” she said dryly.

“Yes.” This from Sandy. “I’ll take care of him from here.”

Tara got back in her car and glanced at Ford. “To your house or boat?”

“House,” he said morosely, jaw dark with the day’s growth, eyes hooded. “I can’t maneuver enough to get around on the boat.”

Fifteen minutes later, Tara got patient number two settled on his couch, his leg elevated on the coffee table. His crutches, water, snacks, and the remote were all within reach. She’d also given him two pain pills.

He looked miserable, and she melted. “How bad are you hurting?”

He didn’t answer. Shifting behind him, she began to rub the knots out of his shoulders. “Better?”

He gave a little grunt of affirmation so she kept at it until the knots loosened and he finally relaxed. “Thanks,” he said gruffly.

She didn’t want to take her hands off all his gorgeous muscles but she had limits, and jumping his bones when he was on drugs and hurting was one of them.

Probably.

“You’ll get used to the crutches,” she said, hoping that it was true. “But until you do, we’ll all take shifts here to make sure you have what you need.”

“I have what I need.” He grabbed her hand when she tried to move away. “My own private nurse.”

She laughed. “I was a nurse once for Halloween, but you should know, I’m not all that good at it in real life.”

“I bet you made a really hot nurse.” His eyes went a little glossy as he thought about it. “You and a short short, little white uniform, with white lacy thigh-highs and a devastatingly tiny thong. Or no thong. Yeah, no thong at all.”

“You’ve given this some thought,” she said, amused. And also a little turned on to be the center of his fantasies.

“I have a very active imagination.” He looked at her, no humor in his face when he said, “Something became clear to me today when I thought I was going to die.”

“Ford, you fell out of a tree and broke your leg. You were never going to die.”

“Could have,” he insisted.

“Did I give you too many of the happy pills?” she asked, checking the bottle. “Maybe the hospital meant for me to wait until morning to dose you again.” Shaking her head, she took a long pull from his soda.

He smiled. “I love you, you know. Probably, you should just marry me.”

Tara inhaled soda up her nose and choked for air as she wheezed and gaped at him.

“You okay?”

“I will be,” she managed through a raw throat. “When the shooting pains down my left arm go away.” She drew in a ragged breath. “What did you just say to me?”

“I want to do it right this time with you,” he said. “I want to get married. No more stupid Facebook, no more Logan, no more what-are-we-doing-with-each-other shit, and no more bad endings. Just you and me, and a piece of paper to make it official.”

She stared at him some more, then picked up the pills again. “Okay, seriously. What did I give you?”

With a deceptive laziness, Ford snagged her hand and tugged her on top of him.

“Careful,” she gasped. “Your leg-”

“Is fine. Since you aren’t in the mood to discuss getting married, there’s something else you can do.”

“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-”