Head Over Heels

Sawyer swore again and kept on the car’s bumper while simultaneously keeping dispatch abreast of their coordinates. Thankfully it was midday, both a work and school day, and the streets were relatively empty.

At the corner, the sedan went up and over the sidewalk and popped the two right tires. By the middle of the next street, the car was slowing, then drifting to a complete stop.

“Don’t run,” Sawyer said under his breath, pulling up behind him. “Don’t f**king run.” He hated foot chases. But, of course, in the next second, the suspect had abandoned his car and was hauling ass down the street.

“Fuck.” Grabbing a spare set of cuffs, Sawyer shoved them into the back of his jeans and hit the pavement. “Stop,” he yelled. “Police.”

The suspect didn’t stop. Of course not. Goddammit. Sawyer shook his head and followed with the ease that running five miles every day afforded him. He didn’t run for pleasure. Hell no. He ran every day, rain or snow or shine, so he didn’t lose assholes like this one. He chased the guy through a yard, over a fence, and into some bushes, yelling at the few curious people poking their heads out to “get back inside!” Closing the distance, Sawyer made a swipe for the guy’s sweatshirt and hauled him to the ground.

They landed hard, the suspect on the bottom, limp as a rag doll. Great, Sawyer thought. He’d killed him.

But then the guy groaned, and Sawyer was glad for it. Less paperwork if he was alive. He put a knee in the guy’s back and reached for his cuffs. “What the hell was that?”

The suspect shook his head. “No Ingles.”

No problemo. Sawyer had some Spanish. He could say “give me a beer,” “throw down your weapon, asshole,” and lucky for this idiot, he could also recite the Miranda rights.

It took another two hours and more paperwork before Sawyer could go. He had aching knees from the takedown and a mother of a headache brewing, but it was the adrenaline flowing through him that sent him straight to the gym.

Working out wasn’t his first choice for letting down the adrenaline. That honor would still go to the balls-to-the-wall sex he’d wished for earlier, but that wasn’t in the cards for him today.

The gym he went to was small but new, and state of the art. A friend of his met him here several times a week. Matt Bowers was a district supervisor forest ranger, and Sawyer’s sparring partner.

Sawyer changed and found Matt beating the hell out of a punching bag. “Why don’t you try someone who’ll fight back?” Sawyer asked.

Matt turned and looked Sawyer over. “I’ll get more action out of the bag. You’re looking soft, Thompson.”

Sawyer smiled. They both knew Sawyer was in top fighting shape himself; he made sure of it. He let out a sound mimicking a chicken clucking.

Matt smiled, one of the few people in Lucky Harbor not intimidated by Sawyer’s size. With good reason, since Matt was an ex-cop from Chicago, and deceptively laid-back. “Having a bad day?”

“Yeah, I broke a nail.”

Matt grinned. “Pussy.”

They beat the shit out of each other for the next thirty minutes before finally dropping to their backs on the mat, gasping for breath.

“You going to tell me what crawled up your ass?” Matt managed to ask.

“No.” Wheezing, Sawyer studied the ceiling while he waited for his heart to stop drumming in his ears.

“I know it’s not a woman,” Matt said. “You don’t have one. You’ve scared them all off.”

“Fuck you.”

Matt chuckled. “Not my type, man. I like ’em soft and pretty.” He paused. “Is it work?”

It was his life, Sawyer thought wearily.

“I’d try to beat it out of you some more, but I can’t feel my legs,” Matt said.

“So who’s the pu**y exactly?”

Matt snorted and managed to get to his feet. “I’m hitting the shower.”

Sawyer lay there for another moment. He’d definitely gotten rid of the excess energy and adrenaline. His body was letting down now, or so the level of pain indicated anyway. Dripping sweat and holding his sore ribs, he staggered to his feet and came face-to-face with Chloe.

She was dressed for a workout in black, cropped yoga pants and a yellow sports bra that he needed sunglasses to look at. Not that that stopped him.

“You got your ass kicked, Sheriff.”

“Fuck if I did.”

“I don’t know.” She cocked her head to look him over. “Your hot friend got to his feet much easier than you.”

“Hot?”

“Mmm-hmm. Your lip’s bleeding, Sheriff.”

Sawyer swiped at his lip and resisted the urge to grab a ridiculous amount of weights and do an arm curl. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” she said doubtfully. “If you’re sure…”

Jesus. A minute ago he’d doubted that he could drag himself to the shower, but now he sat heavily on a weight bench and reached for the weights.

Chloe raised a brow but said nothing more as she put in her earphones and sat on a weight bench facing away from him.

“What about your asthma?”

“This isn’t cardio. I’m good as long as I go slow.” Then she began to work her arms, moving that taut, curvy body to some mysterious beat.

Sawyer watched her. He couldn’t help himself. She’d piled her glorious mass of red hair into a ponytail that swung back and forth with her every arm curl. Her shoulders were straight, the lean muscles in her back sleek and feminine. She had the best ass he’d ever seen. Sure there were other cute butts in the gym, but Chloe’s was right there in front of him, drawing his gaze. He was very busy attempting to see as much of it as he could when she turned her head and caught him.

He hurriedly pushed up the weights and was relieved when his arms obeyed and he didn’t totally humiliate himself.

Chloe was watching him, something new in her eyes now, something hot and lethal and dark.

And just like that, as if she’d let out a mating call, the matching hot, lethal, dark place inside him reared its head. Good thing he’d long ago beaten that part of him back, trading it in for a different kind of life. One he could depend on, no matter what obstacles he faced. Which, of course, didn’t stop him from pushing the weights up again. He would have decapitated himself for sure if two big hands hadn’t appeared to stop him.

Matt.

Hair wet from his shower, he looked down at Sawyer and smirked as he pulled all but twenty-five pounds of the weights off. “There,” he said patronizingly. “Now you can go ahead and show off for the pretty lady.” He shot a warm smile and a quick wink Chloe’s way.

Chloe smiled back.

And Sawyer wished he’d pounded Matt into the floor when he’d had the chance.

Chapter 6

“It may be that your sole purpose in life is

simply to serve as a warning to others.”

Chloe Traeger

Chloe had always loved traveling for her work, meeting new people, going from place to place. It was reminiscent of the wanderlust gypsy life she’d had growing up with Phoebe, and in its own odd way, was comforting.

But now there was Lucky Harbor and her sisters, and against all odds, these things gave her comfort, too. It’d taken months to figure out exactly why, but sitting on the counter in the B&B’s large, homey kitchen, stirring up a bowl of avocado and mayonnaise, she finally got it.

It was because for the first time in her entire life, she had a sort of home base. It was extremely new, and if she was being honest, not as claustrophobic as she’d imagined. She was at war with herself over it.

Luckily she didn’t have much time to dwell on it. Later today, she’d be giving spa treatments at an upscale Portland boutique hotel, and since her products were all made up of fresh ingredients, she had a hell of a lot of work to do to prepare. “That smells…interesting,” Tara said. She was at the center island, cooking away. As the oldest, she’d gotten the lion’s share of imperturbability. Neatness, too. Despite getting ready to cook breakfast for the three guests they’d had show up last night, there wasn’t a hair out of place or a crumb or speck on her pretty black wool trousers and crisp white blouse. And how she cooked and served in those heels was beyond Chloe.

Chloe eyed her own feet, comfy in ballet flats. Everything she wore was built for comfort: leggings, long cami top with a cropped sweater open over it. “How do you stay so neat all the time?”

Tara smiled. She was doing a lot more of that now that she was getting laid regularly by Ford, one of the sexiest guys Chloe had ever met.

“Well, I’m not mixing up a batch of”—Tara peered into Chloe’s bowl—“stinky green stuff for spa clients.”

“It’s avocado and mayonnaise hair conditioner, and it’s not stinky. It works better than your fifty-dollar conditioner.”

“Avocado and mayo?” Tara’s Southern accent was faint and charming when she was amused. “Your fancy clients are going to put that in their hair?”

“It’s ‘au natural.’ Back to basics and all that. Plus, it’s loaded with all sorts of good fats and oils. People love it.”

“You know what I’d love, sugar? Help with the dishes.”

Better than cleaning toilets, Chloe told herself, and she did plenty of those as well. “I really miss Mia.”

At the mention of Tara’s teenage daughter—whom Tara had when she was a teen herself—Tara smiled. “I miss her, too.”

Last summer, Mia had worked here at the inn, helping with the cleaning and whatever was needed, giving Chloe a welcome break. But Mia was in Spain now, spending her senior year of high school as an exchange student.

Setting her bowl down, Chloe ran hot water in the sink and was halfway through the pile of pots and pans when Maddie came into the kitchen. She was carrying an armful of dishes that she must have collected out of the guest rooms, all of which she set into the sink with a sweet smile.

Dammit. Chloe added more hot water to the sink.

“Oh, and hey,” Maddie said, turning back to her. “I’m nearly out of that face mask you made me, the one with strawberries, oatmeal, and honey. Can I get some more?”

“Sure.” Chloe would be making up a batch today anyway. “Did you like the scent? Because I can switch the strawberries with—”

“No, don’t change a single thing. Jax says it makes me glow.”

Tara and Chloe exchanged a look. Good as Chloe’s mask was, and it was good, it wasn’t the ingredients making Maddie glow.

That would be the sex.

Maddie looked into the bowl of avocado conditioner, swirling the spoon around, sniffing curiously. “Dip?” She grabbed a bread stick from the counter and scooped up a dollop of the hair treatment.

“Chloe, don’t you dare let your sister eat hair conditioner,” Tara said, not looking up as she expertly flipped her omelet.

“Hair conditioner?” Maddie narrowed her eyes at Chloe and threw the bread stick at her.

Chloe ducked and grinned. “It’s just avocado and mayo. And you need it, too. It’d fix your frizz problem.”

Maddie’s hand flew to her hair. She had a mass of brown curls, rarely tamed unless it was tied back. Today was no different. It fell in curls to her shoulders, looking full and thick, and, well, frizzy.

“And your shirt’s inside out again,” Chloe noted.

“It is not.” But Maddie stretched out the collar of her tee to see it and eyed the stitching on the outside. “Crap.”

“You still dressing in the dark, or what?” Chloe asked.

That was what Maddie had tried to tell them last week when she’d shown up at the inn all flushed, mussed, and wearing her shirt inside out.

Maddie whipped her shirt off to turn it right side out. She was wearing a pink bra and a hickey on her collarbone.

Chloe burst out laughing. “Go, Jax.”

“He didn’t— We weren’t—” Maddie sagged. “Oh, forget it.” She clapped her hands to her cheeks. “I jumped him on the way over here.”

“While driving?” Tara asked in horror.

Maddie was beet red now. “We…pulled over.” A ridiculous grin escaped. “I just always want to eat him up. Does it ever stop?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe admitted. “But for your sake, I hope not.” If anyone deserved happiness, it was Maddie. Before coming to Lucky Harbor, a bad experience with an ex had put Maddie off men entirely. Then she’d met Jax. With a little bit of patience, along with his easy, outgoing personality, Jax had woman-whispered Maddie right out of her shell. Now they were getting married.

Given the long-enduring and heated love that Tara and Ford also shared, Chloe had no doubt that they’d soon be following suit down the aisle as well.

It was wonderful for them. And exciting, too. But Chloe wasn’t quite sure what it all meant for her. What her plan would be, or what kind of future she’d have…

“You’ll find it, too,” Maddie said softly, watching Chloe. “Love.”

“Oh,” Chloe said, shaking her head. “No. I don’t need—”

“You will,” Maddie promised and hugged her. “Maybe after you settle down a little.”

Ah, there it was. The problem. The real problem. In order to find that elusive acceptance that she craved, Chloe had to “settle down,” had to stop being who she was. Grow up. No more letting her sister eat hair conditioner…

But dammit, hadn’t she taken on her share of the responsibility for this place? Hadn’t she cut back drastically on the constant traveling to help with the inn? Shifted her schedule so that most of the trips she took were only day trips now, and doing so only when she could, between guests?

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