The iPhone screen went foggy for a moment, then cleared, and two words floated to view.
Absolutely not.
With a low, mirthless laugh, Sawyer shook his head. Of course, Chloe wasn’t going to behave. She didn’t know the meaning of the word.
Chloe smiled a little apologetically, like the odds were completely stacked against her, and some of the tension created by that mind-blowing kiss dissipated into the night. But relaxing around her was just as dangerous as whatever had been crackling between them. Sawyer took another look at the screen of her phone to see if it’d changed its mind. A strand of Chloe’s long hair stuck to his stubbled jaw. Her scent filled his nostrils, and he shifted closer so that her shoulder bumped into his chest.
He liked being close to her. Way too much.
“Ask it a question,” she said.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Anything. You could ask if you’ll catch another idiot convenience store robber, or have to replace any more batteries for Mrs. Abbott anytime soon. Hell, ask it if you’ll be getting lucky-I always ask it that. It’s good at giving love advice.” She turned to the phone and said, “Magic Eight Ball, will Sheriff Sawyer Thompson get laid anytime soon?”
“Jesus, Chloe.”
She grinned at him over her shoulder and peered at the screen, which clouded and then cleared, and two more words appeared:
Not likely.
Chloe laughed out loud with what Sawyer thought was a rather nasty glee. “Same question,” she told it. “For me this time. Will I be getting laid anytime soon?”
Sawyer didn’t know what he wanted the answer to be, but before he could decide, the screen came into focus, and two crisp words floated:
Outlook good.
Chloe burst out laughing again, bending at the waist with amusement, which thrust her ass directly into his groin.
As that part of his anatomy was still cocked and loaded from their kiss, it was also now aimed. His hands went to her hips to step back, but somehow his brain mixed up the signal, and he held her still instead.
In the heavy silence, all he could hear was her suddenly accelerated breathing. “Well,” she said straightening. “The Magic Eight app has never paid off quite so fast before.”
Sawyer was dizzy. He was certain it had to do with the fact that he no longer had any blood in his brain.
“Sex stirs up my asthma.”
Sawyer blinked. “What?”
“Yeah. I probably should have told you that sooner.”
He shook his head, trying to catch up. He couldn’t.
Turning to face him, Chloe grimaced. “Every time. And then I end up overusing my inhaler. But they’re expensive, and I have this really crappy catastrophic insurance, and the inhaler isn’t covered at all.” She drew in a breath. “So I have this thing I do before sex. A test. An ‘Is He Inhaler Worthy?’ test.”
He just stared at her. “There’s a test. Before sex.”
“Yes. And I should tell you, not many pass.”
Somehow they’d ended up tangled in each other again, and she rocked against him, her actions at odds with her words. “There’s a test,” he said inanely.
“A guy has to pass it before I’ll-”
“Have sex with him.”
She nodded, her gaze locked on his mouth. He could tell she wanted it on hers, and for once, they were perfectly in sync. Having no idea what he was doing, he kissed her again, another no-holds-barred, tongues tangling, rock-his-fucking-world kiss that left him staggered and her apparently unable to speak as they tore apart for air and waited for the world to right itself.
Didn’t happen.
She was breathing hard but not wheezing. Good sign, he thought. He stared at her mouth now, still wet from his, and just barely managed not to take a bite out of that full lower lip. It took a hell of a lot more control than he thought possible. Her hands were gripping his shirt, and also a little bit of his skin and some chest hair to boot, but he didn’t say anything. Mostly because he wasn’t sure if she meant to push him away or pull him closer, and if it was the former, he didn’t want to remind her. “Chloe?”
“Yeah?”
“I’d be worth the inhaler,” he said, then forced himself to walk away into the night.
Chloe busied herself with work, which wasn’t hard to do. It was early, and she sat in the inn’s kitchen with her sisters preparing for their day.
The B &B was thriving. More and more, their weekends were booking up, and people were beginning to schedule during the week as well. Maddie continued to run the inn with supreme efficiency, handling the books, the staffing, the supplies, and the equipment. Tara, as always, handled the kitchen.
And Chloe did her best to pick up the slack. But the restlessness within her was still building, and cleaning and filing and answering phones weren’t doing it for her. She had a talent, dammit, and it was time to bring it up. “I’ve been thinking about a way to get the B &B some publicity.”
“Oh, good Lord,” Tara said. “Don’t tell me you’re in the paper again. I mean, your motives with the homeless thing was sweet, but they always refer to you as some sort of troubled rebel. And who the hell is going to want to stay here with a troubled rebel, Chloe?”
“It’s okay, I didn’t get in the papers again.”
Tara let out a sigh of relief and turned back to Maddie. The two of them had spent the past ten minutes arguing over towels. Towels. “Blue,” Tara drawled to Maddie. “Blue’s soothing as right rain.”
Maddie shook her head. “Pale green. Soothing and on sale.” She turned her laptop to reveal the site that she was looking at. If Maddie gave the place its heart, then Tara added the practical logic. Tara’s practical soul was big…and cheap. The word sale was one of her favorite words, and she nodded her agreement.
Soothing on-sale green it would be.
“Hey,” Chloe said. “About my idea…”
“If you suggest red towels,” Tara said, her south showing, “I’m going to hurt you.”
“It’s not about the towels.” Chloe stood up. “And it’s more a plan than an idea.”
Tara frowned. “The last time you said that, you were calling me collect from Tijuana, needing me to wire you money.”
“Okay, first of all,” Chloe said, “that was a long time ago. And second, this is an actual good idea.” She drew in some air and held it. “A day spa. Here.”
“You already do day spa stuff here,” Tara said.
“Yes, I prepare here. And sometimes I do freebies for the guests,” Chloe agreed. “But I’m talking about making it official and charging for the services.”
Tara had turned away from the computer to her island. She was whipping eggs in a bowl now, her whisk moving at the speed of light. “As in a schedule where you set up appointments for our guests?”
“Yes,” Chloe said, nodding, feeling the excitement flow just talking about it. “Facials, skin treatments, all the stuff I do for other spas all over the place. But here. Right here.”
“What if you’re gone on a trip when people want an appointment?” Maddie asked.
“I’d keep a schedule. Like we do for the inn. People would book in advance.”
“But you take off on a whim all the time,” Tara said. “I wouldn’t want to have appointments booked and you off for parts unknown.”
“I never take off on a whim anymore,” Chloe said, trying not to get defensive. “I go when I get bookings. And I wouldn’t leave if there was a booking here.”