Christmas in Lucky Harbor Read online

  She closed her eyes but then surprised him by dropping her head to his chest. “I’m all dirty and sweaty, Jax.”

  “I like dirty and sweaty,” he said, drawing her into his arms. “And it’s just dinner, not a ring or a white picket fence.”

  Choking out a laugh, she pressed in even closer, sighing when he kissed her temple. But then after a moment, and far before he was ready, she backed away from his touch and met his gaze. “But no condom on this dinner date, right? Because…”

  “… Because you’re not ready for this.”

  “I just need… I really need to take a step backward from anything serious.”

  And sex for her was serious. He understood. Hell, what they’d experienced in the shower was so serious, he still hadn’t recovered. “Take the step back if you need it. Hell, take two. Just don’t go running away.”

  That brought a small smile. “I no longer run.”

  “Good,” he said and went back to work, for the first time in five years wanting something he couldn’t have.

  Maddie divided her time between the marina office and painting the inn’s bedrooms. Tara helped with the painting. Chloe couldn’t do much because of her asthma. Maddie got that, but the way she held herself separate from them, working on her skin care line instead of the inn, was more worrisome than annoying. At some point, Chloe was going to have to exercise the swing vote, and Maddie had no idea which way she’d go. With a sigh, Maddie watched Tara walk across the yard, gingerly carrying paint supplies. Tara had at least deigned to get her hands dirty, risking her manicure. Not because she believed in the cause.

  Nope, what Tara believed in was saving money.

  Over the past few days, Maddie had finished the paperwork for refinancing their loan and filed it at the bank. Her fingers were crossed. Tara and Chloe were both leaving tomorrow, and Maddie would be on her own. But that was a worry for later, she told herself. For the moment, she was covered from head to toe in paint.

  “I’m changing my penny-pinching stance,” Tara huffed at her side, with hardly any paint on her. “We should have hired someone to do this part.”

  Maddie had no idea how her sister had managed to stay clean, but it was really annoying. Perhaps it was the invisible bubble of righteous perfection that clearly surrounded her. “We should have hired someone? You did not just say that.”

  Tara sighed. “I hate being peasant stock.” She swiped her brow, but Maddie didn’t see a drop of sweat on her. Maybe she had a sweat-gland disorder or something. That thought made her smile a little. Only Tara could have a medical condition that aided her perfect southern belle image.

  “You okay?” Tara asked.

  “Yes, why?”

  “Because for the past few days, you’ve been… different somehow.”

  Yes. Multiple orgasms tended to do a body good.

  “You went out with Jax last night.”

  “Just for dinner.” And a few hot-as-hell kisses. Turned out, she didn’t really want to take too many steps backward, only a little one. A real little one.

  “So you’re okay?”

  “Yep.”

  Tara nodded and looked at her hands. “You know, I’m not normally one to gripe.” She narrowed her eyes when Maddie snorted. “But I would like to make an official complaint that I didn’t get the asthma in the family.”

  Maddie had to give her that one. Chloe was sitting a hundred yards away on the dock, free of the chemicals that would have sent her into asthma hell, surrounded by bowls and containers filled with ingredients like eggs and honey and almonds. “What is she making today?”

  “Some facial to clean out our pores when we’re done,” Tara said. “And she’s brewing some sort of soothing homemade sun tea that reduces stress.” Her tone said this was as likely as them making a go of the inn. “She said it’d be better than a spa day.”

  “I’ve never had a spa day,” Maddie said on a sigh.

  “And you have the pores to prove it.”

  “What? I do not.” Maddie moved to the hallway and stared at herself in the full-length mirror leaning against the wall, the one they’d pulled off one of the interior guest room doors. Oh, boy. Her hair looked like she’d stuck her finger in a live electrical socket, and her skin was shiny with perspiration, but she didn’t see any pores. Probably because she was layered in a fine dusting of paint. She paused, searching for a natural transition to the question she wanted to ask and found none. So she jumped right in. “Why are you mad that Chloe kissed Logan’s best friend?”

  “Because she wanted Scott for herself,” Chloe said from behind them, having come inside without either of them noticing. She was wearing leggings, a miniskirt, and a sweater that said DEAR SANTA, LET ME EXPLAIN. Eyes inscrutable, she handed them each a small vial. “Try this. Let me know if you notice a difference in the next twenty-four hours.”

  “But you’re both leaving in the morning,” Maddie said.

  Chloe shrugged.

  Tara didn’t say anything. Done painting, she pulled on her sweater and wrapped a red scarf around her neck. Maddie had finished the scarf the night before, when she couldn’t sleep because she’d been too busy reliving Jax’s hands on her body.

  The scarf was crooked, but just looking at it gave Maddie a little tug of pride. Her next project, started this morning, was with the green skein of yarn she’d commandeered from her mother’s stash, which made it feel just as special as the red one. It wasn’t quite as crooked—yet—but give her some time.

  “You can text me,” Chloe told them, voice flat.

  Tara sighed. “I didn’t want Scott for myself.”

  Chloe just gave her a long, level look.

  “I didn’t. I was just jealous because… well, because you make it so damn easy. You make friends in the blink of an eye, and I don’t. This may come as a surprise to both of you, but some people find me… unapproachable.”

  Chloe was quiet for a long moment, and it wasn’t clear if she was trying to fight a grimace or a smile.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Tara told her. “You’ll get an asthma attack.”

  “I know but the bank just called. You and I each missed signing one of the loan docs. I’ll take you on the Vespa.”

  “Are you going to promise not to kill me?”

  “Only if you promise not to irritate me.”

  They left, and Maddie figured the odds were fifty–fifty that they’d both survive the short trip. She stared at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a long-sleeved knit tee and jeans, and she realized that for the first time in recent history, the button on the jeans wasn’t cutting into her belly. Huh. She lifted the hem of the shirt and stared at her middle. It might have been wishful thinking on her part, but it seemed flatter. “Maybe I should forget to eat potato chips more often.”

  Two big, warm hands slid beneath hers, callused palms flat on her stomach. Her gaze collided with Jax’s warm, amused one in the mirror.

  For two days, he’d found a way to have his hands and/or his lips on her every chance he got. Yesterday morning, he’d been wielding a huge power saw like a sexy lumberjack, cutting the fallen tree in the yard. When he’d caught her watching him, he’d pressed her up against the stack of cut wood, slid his hands beneath her shirt, and kissed her senseless.

  Yesterday afternoon, he’d backed her into the upstairs linen closet and she’d spent the best five minutes of her life making out like they were teenagers.

  Except she was fairly certain that a teenage boy couldn’t have brought her to orgasm with nothing more than a touch of his fingers.

  “Mmm,” Jax murmured now, those magic fingers stroking lightly across her stomach. “Soft and warm.”

  “But not hard and ripped like you.” She tried to say this critically, but it was difficult not to sound breathless with his hands on her bare skin, his chest plastered to her back, and his hips snuggled to hers.

  “I’ve definitely got the hard taken care of.” Still holding her gaze in the mirror, he rubbed