Christmas in Lucky Harbor Read online

“Why?”

  “Because the racing world cost me something I miss. You, Tara. It cost me you.”

  Tara stared at him. There’d been a time when she’d have given anything to hear him say that: her so-called career, her right arm, anything. But things were different now. She was different now. “Logan—”

  He shook his head. “Don’t say anything. Just think about it. Think about me, okay?”

  She let out a low laugh and sank to the couch, stunned. “It took me two years to get over you. I can’t just make all that happened between us vanish with a snap of my fingers.”

  “I know, and there’s no rush,” Logan assured her. “I’m going to be here all summer, so—”

  “All summer? What do you mean, all summer?”

  He grinned. “To win you back, of course.” He knelt down in front of her and flashed the grin that had once been panty-melting. “No decisions now, okay? Like I said, we have all summer.”

  Oh, God. “You can’t just hang around all summer.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…” She had no idea. “What will you do with yourself?”

  He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’ll figure it out,” he said. She kept him from moving in closer with a hand to his chest. “And,” he went on, looking amused at her boundaries, “it’s a busy time for you with the opening of the inn. I can help.”

  The man had two personal assistants to do his every bidding. He didn’t do his own laundry, cooking, housekeeping, accounting… anything. “How exactly can you help?”

  “Hey, I’m new and improved.” He shot her his most charming smile. “You don’t know this about me yet, but you’ll see.”

  “Logan—”

  “No rush, Tara. I’m a patient guy.”

  And then, like Ford, he vanished into the night.

  The next morning was damp and foggy. Tara got up at the crack of dawn to walk. Probably she should run, but she hated to run. Her carefully constructed life was going to hell in a handbasket, and she was already planning on inhaling crap food by the bundle. She needed to burn some calories as a preventative measure or she’d be forced to switch to loose sweats in no time.

  Tara walked into town and down the length of the pier, waving at Lance, who was hosing down the area out front of his ice cream shop.

  Turning around at the end of the pier, she walked back. She could have gone straight to the cottage and had a nice shower but she decided to walk through the marina to burn a few extra calories.

  Or because Ford was out there on the dock.

  She was drawn to him like a damn magnet. He was surrounded by sailing boat parts, with a tool in one hand, a part in the other, and a look of concentration on his face.

  When he caught sight of her, the corners of that amazing, fantasy-inducing mouth of his quirked. Only a few hours ago, he’d been buried deep inside her, their bodies slick with sweat, their breath mingling, moving in tandem. Just in the remembering, the air around them changed, and she was swamped with more memories.

  And longing…

  Their gazes caught and held, though neither of them spoke. Her nerves fluttered. So did a few other body parts.

  “You okay?” he finally asked.

  It wasn’t a filler question. Last night had been emotional, and he had a look of genuine concern on his face. It conflicted with the picture she had in her head of him walking out the door without a backward glance. “I’m fine.”

  “Logan gone?” he asked.

  “Not exactly.”

  His jaw tightened, and he took a moment to answer. “What then, exactly?”

  “He’s staying for the summer.” When he locked gazes with her, she lifted her hands. “Not my idea.”

  He said nothing to this but his silence spoke volumes.

  “So is this going to be uncomfortable now?” she asked.

  He cocked his head. “Does it feel uncomfortable?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  He sighed, muttered something to himself that sounded like “don’t do it, man,” then wrapped an arm around her waist. He snugged the lower half of his body to hers, rocking against her. “How about now?”

  “No, uncomfortable is not the word I’d use,” she managed. “Ford.” Helpless against the pull of the attraction, not to mention his easy, sexy charm, she gripped his shirt in two fists and dropped her forehead to his chest.

  He stroked his hand down her hair, a movement of affection and gentle possession, and she pressed even closer. Not again, her brain told her body. You are not going to have him again. But her brain wasn’t in charge because she glanced over his shoulder at the sailboat, which had a bedroom below deck.

  And a bed.

  Ford followed her gaze and let out a low laugh. “Okay, but only if you ask nice.”

  “Not funny,” she said and pushed away from him. “Besides, I’m all sweaty, and you’re all dirty.”

  “Then we’re already halfway to where I’d like to be.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who came out of your way to see me.”

  That was true, which didn’t make it any less irritating that somehow he always knew what she was thinking. “I’m going to take a shower.” A cold one.

  “You want help with that?”

  “No!”

  “You want me bad,” Ford called after her as she walked away.

  Yes, she did. Quite badly, in fact. What woman could help wanting him in her bed? The problem was that Ford didn’t tend to exert much energy on things that were difficult. And Tara was just about as difficult as they came. Which meant she needed to resist him and all his gorgeousness because she already knew the ending to their story.

  A few nights later, Ford was at The Love Shack serving drinks. The place was busy, which usually gave him a surge of satisfaction. He loved being here, hearing the chatter and the laughter, knowing that he brought everyone together. He’d learned a long time ago to make a family and a home wherever he could. This was both.

  The walls of The Love Shack were a deep, sinful bordello red, lined with antique mining tools that he and Jax had collected over the years on various adventures. Lanterns hung from the exposed-beam ceilings and lit up the scarred bench-style tables and the bar itself, which was made of a series of old wooden doors attached end to end.

  If Ford wasn’t on a boat with the wind hitting his face as he flew over the water at dizzying speeds, then he was at his happiest here.

  It was a simple lifestyle, but when it came right down to it, he was a simple guy. Growing up poorer than dirt had ensured that. So had being loved and protected by his grandma to the best of her abilities as they’d worked their asses off. She’d always said that someday it would pay off and she’d get to retire to Palm Springs.

  It gave Ford great satisfaction that he’d been able to give that to her, that right this minute she was probably on the deck of the Palm Springs home he’d bought her, sipping iced tea and watching the mountains. It was her favorite pastime after cooking for him on the rare occasions he made it down there to visit, that is. She’d marvel at his height and build every single time he walked in her door, as if she couldn’t quite believe he’d grown up from that scrawny, undersized kid he’d once been.

  Ford couldn’t blame her. He’d managed to live through his teens, and then his twenties in spite of himself, and was now working on his thirties and being a grownup. On accepting his mistakes and living with no regrets, though his biggest regret was heavy on his mind lately.

  Tara.

  “Earth to Ford.” Sawyer Thompson waved a hand in Ford’s face. “You with us? Or do you need a moment alone?”

  “Thought tonight was your night off.” Sawyer was big and broad as a mountain, and could be as intimidating as hell—unless you’d grown up with him and knew that he wouldn’t watch any Disney/Pixar flick because they made him cry like a chick. Ford poured him a Coke—Sawyer’s standard order when he was on duty.

  “Got called in.” S