Jill Shalvis - Head Over Heels

Her smile went a little teasing. “I suppose she gives better…English than me?”

Sawyer grimaced, and she laughed. “No worries, Sheriff. I won’t tell Lucille if you won’t.”

He walked outside the hospital toward his truck, pulling out his cell to check on Chloe. She didn’t answer, so he headed toward the inn, stopping by the Love Shack first because Ford and Jax had texted him ten times. Each.

They were both little girls that way.

Ford was behind the bar. Jax was there as well, not serving but sitting on the counter in the corner, thumbs flying over his phone. They both looked at Sawyer expectantly.

“What?” Sawyer said.

“You know exactly what,” Jax said. “Start with Chloe being taken home by you in your clothes. No, wait. Start just before that.”

From beside him, Ford’s mouth twitched as he served Sawyer a tall soda. “Way to ease into it, man.”

Sawyer tossed back the soda and gestured for another.

Ford refilled him. “Let me save you some time. Tara and Maddie ratted you out. Here’s what we know-Todd gave Chloe a ride and dumped her on the side of the road with Lucille. We know this because he came here and knocked a few back, muttering about the idiocy of women. Then somehow you showed up and saved the day with the flat. You gave Chloe a ride and then you two went at it. She had an asthma attack. Oh, and you should watch your back. The sisters are pissed off at you for sleeping with the wild child.”

“She’s not a child,” Sawyer said. “And there was no sleeping involved.”

“Nice,” Ford said. “But you probably shouldn’t mention that in front of my girlfriend-”

“I meant,” Sawyer said through his teeth, “that I didn’t- Fuck. Never mind.”

Jax laughed softly. “You didn’t…fuck?”

“That’s not what I said.”

Jax looked at Ford. “He’s all pissy, too. He didn’t get his.”

“Hey,” Sawyer said. “I was a little busy making sure she didn’t die.”

“Ah,” Ford said with a sage nod to Jax. “You’re right. He didn’t get his. Which explains the bad attitude.”

When they both laughed, Sawyer headed to the door. “You guys are assholes.”

“Aw,” Ford called after him. “Don’t go and get your panties in a wad. That’s not good for a guy in your condition. If things get too tight down there, you might do some real damage.”

Without looking back, Sawyer flipped them both off and went out into the night. He drove to the B &B and parked in front of the small owner’s cottage between Tara’s car and Chloe’s Vespa, which Joe had indeed rescued and fixed at Sawyer’s request.

Tara opened the door, and it was a good thing that looks couldn’t kill or he’d be dead on the spot. “She okay?” he asked without preamble.

“Yes.”

A tension that he hadn’t realized was gripping him released slightly. “I want to see her.”

“She’s sleeping.”

A silent battle of wills commenced, and Tara was good. She had thirty-five years of staring people down and winning, but Sawyer was better, and he held his ground.

She caved with a small sigh and a shake of her head and moved aside to let him in.

He’d have gone in search of Chloe but Tara’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“She thinks she’s a real tough cookie,” she said.

“She is.”

“Not when it comes to you.”

He met her gaze. “What does that mean?”

“You’re going to have to figure that out yourself. I like you, Sawyer. I like you a lot, but hurt her and I’ll hurt you.”

He stood in front of her armed to the teeth, trained in hand-to-hand combat, outweighing her by seventy-five pounds minimum, and raised a brow.

“Okay,” she said. “So I know how ridiculous that sounds, but I mean it.”

“We’re on the same side,” he said.

“No. I’m here for her, always. You’re here because there’s something going on between you two, something physical and clearly out of control. But when that’s done…”

He understood what she was saying. He was temporary in Chloe’s life, and Tara was not. “I just want to see her,” he said. “I want to see for myself that she’s okay.”

Tara stared at him for a long beat, clearly fighting the urge to tell him to go to hell. “Fine. I’m going to the inn to check on things. But I’ll be back in fifteen minutes, you hear?”

He stopped in Chloe’s doorway, propping up the doorjamb with his shoulder. The room was pitch-black, but if he strained, he could hear her breathing and just that sound soothed him. As a few minutes passed, he slowly felt some more of the tension drain out of his body.

Earlier, in his shower, her breathing had started out quiet like this, but then she’d gone up in flames for him. He’d loved it, loved the way she’d panted for more, clutching at him as if she was afraid he’d stop. It had gone straight to his head, more potent than any alcohol or drug.

And then in the very next beat, when she’d started to suffocate, all he’d wanted to do was breathe for her. God, he could still taste the bitter helplessness, and he hated, hated, that she’d suffered. That she’d almost died.

There was a chair by her bed, and feeling oddly wobbly, he straddled it. Reaching out, he messed with the shades so that they let in slats of pale light from the moon’s glow, enough to see her by.

Chloe lay on her side, a hand tucked beneath her cheek. Her lips weren’t blue. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get that image out of his head.

The stuff of nightmares.

The covers had slipped to her waist. She wore a thin camisole top, and one of the straps had slipped off her shoulder, nearly exposing a breast. The thin material was caught on her nipple, and his mouth actually watered.

The hem of the cami was bunched high on her waist, and with the blanket at her hip, several inches of smooth skin was bared. He watched her stomach rise and fall with each easy breath. No wheezing.

She’d showered. He could smell the scent of her shampoo and soap, and he leaned in for a better whiff. Yeah, he’d completely lost it.

Careful not to wake her, Sawyer ran a finger up her arm, intending to nudge the strap of her cami back into place. But murmuring something in her sleep, Chloe rolled, flopping to her back, covering her eyes with a flung-up arm.

Her breast escaped its confines, and in the cool night air, the nipple puckered into a tight peak.

He bit back a groan and closed his eyes. Not looking didn’t help, so he stood and pulled the covers to her chin, hiding her from his gaze. Then he sank back down to the chair, not moving from the spot until he heard Tara return, and then he left like the hounds of hell were on his heels.

Chloe awoke with a start and sat straight up, startled by her cell phone vibrating at her bedside table. “Sawyer?” she whispered. The sun was shining in through the shades, the ones she’d shut the night before.

But she was alone in the room. No Sawyer. Which was odd only because she…felt him. Blowing out a breath, she lay back and grabbed her phone. “Hello?

She’d missed the call. Squinting, she accessed her messages and listened to someone just breathing. She hit delete. The next message was the same, more of her heavy breather.

Delete.

The third message, she finally got a voice. “Hey, sweet thing.” Todd. “We need to talk.”

No, they didn’t. Delete. She sat up and looked around for Sawyer. But of course he wasn’t here. Why would he be here? Just because yesterday they’d-and she’d-and he hadn’t-

Don’t think about it.

Happy to be the Queen of Denial Town, Chloe flopped onto her belly and closed her eyes, but instead of going back to sleep, she relived yesterday with aching acuity. Sawyer giving her a ride, stopping to change Lucille’s tire, his hands moving economically and capably, his shirt stretching taut over the bunch and play of the muscles in his back and shoulders.

Mmm, those muscles. But it had been the fact that he’d helped Lucille that had grabbed her by the heart. He wanted her to think he was so badass, but the truth was, he was that good guy Lucille had accused him of. Way too good for the likes of Chloe. Sawyer’s world was black and white, and if any gray popped up, well then, he arrested it.

A lot of her life had been spent in the gray. Nothing illegal. At least not too illegal. She may not have been raised the way most kids were, but Phoebe had taught her about doing the right thing for the right reasons. That’s who she was. At least, that’s who she tried to be.

And she wanted to be loved for being that person.

She could play with Sawyer all she wanted but the fact was they were too different, and eventually it would go bad between them. Even if he could put up with her asthma issues-and those were pretty huge considering she couldn’t have sex without a tactical plan-he wouldn’t be able to put aside his code of conduct, not for the long haul.

He was bound by duty. He hadn’t caught her and Lance freeing the dogs, or trespassing, or any of the “gray” area things she did, but what if he had? What would it do to him if someday he had to make a choice between the law and her?

Realizing sleep was nothing but a distant memory, Chloe tossed back the covers and forced herself to get up. After a long, hot shower that only brought more memories, she dressed and went outside.

And came face-to-face with her Vespa.

Confused, she pulled out her cell phone and called Lance. “Hey. You okay?”

“That’s my question for you, babe,” he said, sounding just as wheezy as she’d been yesterday. Her heart kicked hard. He’d had a long hospital stay last month, complicated and awful, and he’d never quite recovered.