Every Little Kiss (Sequoia Lake Book 2)

by Marina Adair

  “You won’t have to provide it—we can bring our own,” Mavis said. “And Prudence here’s one of the best shots in the county.”

  “In case you’re on the fence, I can take out a pea at a hundred yards, open scope,” Prudence added.

  Ford was so far from the fence he couldn’t even see the posts. With a scope. But he needed to give them something. “No guns. But each dog will get an official-looking patch that you can sew on their vests.”

  “An official patch would look great on Bubbles’s vest,” Dorothy said.

  “Official looking,” he clarified, but no one was listening. They were already debating the color scheme of the patch and where it should be sewn for uniformity. “And it will count as community service toward the Wagon Days Darling.”

  The ladies resumed their positions in two straight lines, and Mavis said, “Deal.”

  Ford had to laugh. “Great. Next class we’ll cover leash control and how to work a crowd with your dog.”

  Mavis’s hand went in the air. “Can I be the test subject when you go over leash techniques?”

  He shot her a stern look—not that it helped. Patty was back to snickering. “See you Saturday.”

  Someone mentioned that there was still time to catch a matinee at the theatre—which was a dollar cheaper than the senior price—and since Brad Pitt had a shower scene, the place cleared out pretty quick.

  After giving Bullseye some water, Ford headed out to the side parking lot where his truck was parked.

  In the end the class had turned out okay. Not that he’d admit that to Harris, but he couldn’t wait to see the look on his good friend’s face when he learned he was a new judge.

  His smile was back. If he pulled this off, his debt to the department would be settled. So would his promise to Sam.

  And Liv.

  Ah, Liv. He hadn’t seen her since the bar. After his talk with Harris, then his run-in with Paxton, he wasn’t even sure what he’d say when he did. So he hadn’t said anything, and now another two days had passed and the window to call had slammed shut. And she probably thought he was a complete ass.

  Not all that surprising. Nearly every serious relationship Ford had attempted ended in the same fiery death. The whole man-in-uniform thing only lasted so long, because Ford could only last in one place for so long.

  “Too busy saving lives to commit to just one,” his last girlfriend had said, when in reality, commitment wasn’t the issue, it was finding the one.

  He wasn’t saying Liv was the one, but when he was with her he wasn’t thinking about the last job or the next job. In fact, he wasn’t thinking about the job at all. And that was as much the appeal as the problem, Ford admitted as he crossed the lot.

  He turned the corner and saw Harris standing by his vehicle. He was completely suited up, which meant he was headed out on a search.

  “If you’re here about the pee on your tires, it wasn’t me. The dogs got confused and thought your Jeep was a tree.”

  Harris didn’t laugh. “We just got a call, and I need you.”

  “If it’s about a missing dog or Mr. Gordon, my shift ended with my class.” Ford walked past him, and Bullseye gave Harris the stink eye.

  “Father and two sons, fifteen and eleven, went hiking at Canyon Ridge,” Harris said. “One of them called his mom twenty minutes ago to say the father was teaching them how to anchor a rope, when he slipped. The oldest stayed to try to get his dad, and the youngest hiked down to where he could get a signal.”

  Ford immediately kicked into crisis mode. No one climbed down Canyon Ridge—it was too steep. The only way down was to rappel or fall. “Did he make it to the bottom?”

  “Nope, he got halfway down and landed on an outcropping of rocks.”

  “So we’ve got a boy and his dad stuck on the side of a cliff?” Ford asked, unlocking the metal storage box bolted to the bed of his truck.

  “And an eleven-year-old somewhere in the woods with a dying cell,” Harris said. “Ty’s working at the lodge today, I have a team working a missing kid over by the high school, and I don’t have time to call them back here.”

  Which meant Ford was officially off desk duty.

  “Sixty seconds to gear up, and Bullseye and I will meet you at the chopper.”

  It was past sunset by the time Ford walked through his front door. Exhausted and covered in blood, he dropped his cap on the table, a six-pack in the fridge, and his dirty clothes in the hamper. He should have taken a hot shower and called it a day, but he was too wired to sit still.

  Needing to clear his head, Ford slipped on his wetsuit and headed out to the lake, grabbing his board on the way. Usually standing on a board in the middle of a current helped Ford find balance, but tonight the control he needed to stay afloat was a struggle.

  Seeing the look on the kid’s face when they’d handed off his still-unconscious dad to the EMTs had unearthed things better buried. But no matter how hard he paddled or how far he went, he couldn’t rid himself of this feeling that he wasn’t finished.

  He’d rappelled down to secure the father, getting him on a backboard and into the chopper headed toward Mercy General. He’d even doubled back out and helped locate the missing eleven-year-old and got him safely to the hospital.

  Ford had done his job. Logically he knew this, but the feeling that it still wasn’t finished settled like lead in his chest, making every breath that much harder. The farther out he paddled, the heavier the paddle got, until it felt as if he were moving through tar.

  He could have stayed at the hospital until the kids’ mom had arrived. Or maybe waited until they heard the status of the father. Though, technically, he wasn’t privy to that kind of information. Nope, Ford’s job was to locate and rescue. Period. Whatever happened after that—with the subject, the family—was out of his hands.

  Ford paddled faster to get it out of his head. This case was over. Soon there’d be another. And if he had any plans to be there when the next family needed him, then he needed to start focusing on his certification and not shortcomings.

  His or the job’s.

  Arms exhausted and breathing heavily, Ford paddled back to shore, going under the water, welcoming the jolt to his body as he sank beneath the cold ice-cap runoff. Unzipping his wetsuit and freeing his arms, he grabbed his board and walked up the beach to his house.

  The moon was high, reflecting off the lake and illuminating the beach and the surrounding area. The shoreline was lit with a million twinkle lights, which hung off the back of nearly every deck lining the shore.

  Including Liv’s.

  Which was how he noticed her small shadow sitting on the bottom step, a few houses down. Wrapped in an oversize sweater, feet in the sand, with Bullseye’s head in her lap.

  Not trusting himself to be around her right now, Ford considered heading straight inside the house and letting Bullseye enjoy a sleepover at the pretty neighbor’s house. Only that would leave Ford alone. And alone was the last thing he could stomach right then.

  Not when she was sitting there, those fathomless eyes locked on him, looking like a safe shelter in the storm.

  He walked down to the sand and headed toward her house. He was a few feet away when she spoke.

  “I was cleaning up Paxton’s room and found a stowaway,” Liv said, standing and making him wonder if she had anything on under that sweater. It was baggy and hung to midthigh, leaving nothing but silky, bare skin and pink-tipped toes. “I saw you go out on your board, so I let him stay for dinner.”

  “I hope it wasn’t pizza.”

  “Nope.” She walked toward him, her feet sliding in the sand, her hair swaying beneath the breeze, not stopping until he was standing close enough to touch. Close enough to smell—and she smelled like redemption. “Chinese, but I offered the delivery guy a special gift if he picked up a bag of dog kibble at the market on the way.”

  Ford let his gaze slide slowly over her body, which was a complete showstopper. “What kind of gift are we talkin
g?”

  “A cupcake,” Liv said, taking in his bare chest, a teasing glint in her eyes when she finally met his. “But don’t look so sad—I brought you one too.”

  To prove it, she held up a plastic bag and offered it to him.

  “You made me cupcakes?” He weighed the bag and looked at her. “Or a bag of flour to make my own?”

  “They’re store-bought cupcakes, but the Chinese food in there is freshly made.”

  “Are you buttering me up?”

  “No,” she said, but he didn’t believe her.

  Opening the bag, he took in the to-go boxes and crooked an amused brow.

  “What? I said freshly made, not homemade. But if you need your gutters cleaned, I’m your girl.”

  Three words that in a different scenario he’d take her up on in a hot minute. But things weren’t different, and she couldn’t be his. At least not for the long term.

  But Ford wasn’t thinking about the long term right then. He was just thinking about making it through the night.

  “What if I need something else?”

  CHAPTER 14

  Liv’s bones turned to mush. “What?”

  “Not that, cupcake,” Ford said on a groan. “Although, that I want more than you could possibly know. But Paxton is home, and I’m not feeling gentle tonight.”

  He sure felt gentle, the tender way he cupped her hip, pulling her closer until she was dizzy with his scent. Yet it wasn’t the desire lacing his eyes that had her taking his hand and leading him to his deck. Although there was enough heat to melt her panties, there was something much more than chemistry humming between them. Something raw and vulnerable.

  Something desperate.

  “Whatever you need,” she said quietly as they walked up the steps.

  Ford stood at the deck’s edge. “Clark White was brought into Mercy General today. He was unconscious, suffering from a punctured lung, and probably has some internal bleeding.”

  Liv linked their fingers. “Is he a friend of yours?”

  “No,” Ford said, looking out at the lake. Wetsuit clinging to his hips, water still dripping from his body, the blue light of the moon casting shadows on his face. He looked invincible and fragile at the same time. “He and his sons were rescued from Canyon Ridge this afternoon.”

  Liv had been working the ER when the father was airlifted in. She remembered hearing about a father-son team that had kept Dr. Bristol, one of the best trauma surgeons in the area, in the OR for most of the afternoon. “Were you on the team?”

  “I helped lift Clark out.” His tone said it was just another day at the office, but the hard lines bracketing his mouth told a different story. “On your next shift, can you just check in on him and see how he’s doing?” Ford faced her. “I’m not asking you to do anything that could get you in trouble, so no details needed. Just let me know if he made it.”

  Her heart pinched over this big, capable man’s struggle with the need for answers and the need to protect.

  “And if he didn’t?”

  The pain that filled his eyes winded her. Ford had said it was the not knowing that stuck with him, but Liv wondered if it went deeper than that. Wondered what he’d lived through, experienced, that made reaching out so difficult.

  Wanting to explore and heal all of his scars, but knowing that there might only be the time for them to explore this one, Liv pulled her phone from her shorts pocket and dialed the hospital.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Ford said, reaching for her phone.

  “I know.” She cupped his cheek. “I want to. Let me do this for you.” When he still didn’t let go of her phone, she explained, “It’s just a call, Ford.”

  He studied her for a long moment, and then with a nod, he disappeared into the house. Liv waited until she saw the kitchen light flicker on and then hit “Send.”

  It took less than five minutes to get the information she needed, and then she thanked the attending nurse and hung up.

  Letting herself in through the back door, Liv found the kitchen. It was painted a warm yellow with antique cooking utensils framed on the walls and a long table in the middle. Complete with six place mats, diner salt-and-pepper shakers, and a pot filled with lavender-and-green peonies, the kitchen was family ready and made to be lived in.

  Only Ford stood at the sink window, chest still bare, hair still wet. Gone was the wetsuit, and in its place was a pair of soft-looking button-flies and bare feet. His dinner was spread out on the counter, which, based on how untouched everything appeared, was where he’d eaten his meals since moving in.

  He didn’t move, just braced himself against the counter with his palms and stared blankly out the window.

  Even from a distance she could feel the emotions churning inside him. He looked spooked, his body braced as if ready to run. She wanted to tell him that running didn’t solve anything. It was as destructive as shutting down. Without steady, consistent motion, the pain lay dormant, waiting for the next time to come to the surface, and the healing was intensified and prolonged.

  Beneath that easygoing charm and flirting, Ford was fighting a battle of his own. His personal relationship with loss and guilt clearly kept him from what he desperately needed: genuine connection.

  A peaceful place to rest his head.

  “I talked to Mr. White’s attending nurse,” she began, and when Ford didn’t move a muscle, she knew he’d been aware of her the entire time. “He got out of surgery a few hours ago and is in recovery. They repaired his lung, and there was minimal internal bleeding. He’s going to be there for a few weeks, but he’ll make a full recovery.”

  It was as if all the air was knocked out of Ford with a single whoosh. His shoulders slumped forward, his body curved in, and he hung his head. “Thank you.”

  Liv placed a gentle hand on his back, offering comfort and connection, surprised to find him shivering. “Are you cold?”

  “Just the adrenaline crash,” he said, his head still hanging. “It’ll pass.”

  She stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her cheek on the middle of his back. His stomach muscles bunched under her fingers.

  Liv knew what “bad days” in their line of work could look like. Knew how hard it was to come down from the intensity and chaos of it all. Just like she knew that what Ford really needed right then was human connection.

  So she tightened her arms and held on. Neither of them spoke—they didn’t need to. She just wrapped herself around him and waited until his breathing normalized and his heart rate slowed enough to match hers. Even then she closed her eyes and held tight.

  When the shivers stilled and his skin had warmed some, Liv realized that the energy between them had shifted. She felt his chest fill and slowly empty with an edge of finality that made her want to hold tighter.

  “You should go,” he said.

  “I know.” Neither of them moved.

  “Paxton is probably wondering where you are.”

  “He’s watching a movie with his grandma. The Lone Ranger.” Ford tipped his head to the side so he could look at her over his shoulder. “He wears a mask and fights crime. She’s trying.”

  Which made Liv happy. Sleepless nights and spiraling guilt aside, something positive had come out of their conversation. And she’d take the win.

  He straightened, causing her to drop her arms. “And I’m trying to do the right thing here, Liv.”

  “And why do you think being alone is the right thing?” she asked quietly.

  “Because having you here like this, touching you . . .” Leaning against the counter, he reached out and cupped her hip and slowly drew her toward him. He parted his legs to make room for her and—just like that—she wanted to be had.

  Like this and by him.

  More than anything she wanted to remember what it was like to be touched. Not just touched, but moved in a way that rerouted her emotions and left a mark. A mark that would last all summer and maybe for longer.

&nb
sp; “It makes me forget why I’m here.”

  “Maybe it’s not the forgetting that’s the problem,” she said. “What if it’s all about the remembering?”

  Fire flickered in his eyes, telling her that he was remembering every detail of their kisses. “Have dinner with me, Ford.”

  He looked at her hands on his pecs. “You keep saying dinner, but all I can think about is what happens after.”

  “Dessert,” she said with a smile.

  “Damn, I do love a good cupcake,” Ford said, and lowered his head, taking her mouth without warning. It wasn’t the gentle teasing they’d shared in the past. No, this was Ford—raw and unfiltered.

  Reminding her why he was going to be so hard to give up.

  Dessert doesn’t necessarily mean getting naked, Ford told himself again.

  It was the same thing that had been on repeat since she’d walked into that kitchen and wrapped her arms around him. Soft and sweet, Liv, with her big heart and caring ways. The right thing to do would be pull back, clarify, and go in a new direction if necessary.

  One that wouldn’t lead them into dangerous territory.

  But then her hands were on the move, sliding down his chest—shy and hesitant but defiantly headed for uncharted waters and, thank you, Jesus, he was pretty sure dessert meant step four.

  Then her body moved against his in this little swivel-hip move that had his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and he discovered her cupcakes were sans a bra, and knew that while dessert might not mean sex, step four sure as hell did.

  And Liv was telling him she was ready for both. Please, God, tell him he wasn’t misreading the signals. Because while he knew how to read women, he didn’t know jack shit about reading this woman.

  Normally this would be an open-and-close case, one that would start on the counter and finish with breakfast in bed. But Liv wouldn’t be here come breakfast, and Ford wasn’t even sleeping in his own bed. His bed was two hours away, in another state, and rarely slept in.

  A part of him wondered how often he’d travel if he knew a woman like her was keeping his bed warm, but the other part knew better—he wasn’t that guy.