Head Over Heels

“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.”

Neither sister spoke. In fact, there was no sound except the eggs sizzling on the stove, and the heavy weight of Tara and Maddie’s misgivings. “Wow,” Chloe said, failing at not getting defensive after all, as a ball of hurt clogged her throat. “All I hear are the crickets and doubt.”

Tara flipped the eggs with the precision of a brain surgeon. Maddie was head down, forensically examining her fingernails as if they held the secret to the universe.

Chloe stared at them, then let out a mirthless laugh. “You know, all the faith you guys have in me is staggering.” She strode to the door with absolutely no idea where she was going.

“Chloe,” Maddie said softly, regretful, and Chloe stopped.

“There’s a track record to consider,” Tara said firmly, not caving to sentiment.

“You think I’d flake on you?” Chloe asked. “When have I ever flaked on you?”

“Well, let’s see.” Tara turned off her eggs. “Easter. July 4th. My birthday. Maddie’s birthday, Mom’s service-”

“Hey,” Chloe said defensively. “I came to the service.” A day late, but she’d had a good reason. She hadn’t been ready, not to say good-bye to her mom, nor to face the fact that with Phoebe gone, Chloe had been truly alone. If she’d gone to the funeral, she’d have completely lost it. And she didn’t “lose it” well. Truthfully, she didn’t do deep emotion well. And birthdays, holidays, and funerals were all about deep emotion. “I’ve never made an appointment and not shown up.”

Maddie, ever the peacemaker, got up and took Chloe’s hand. “Why don’t we all just think about it? Okay?”

No. No, it wasn’t okay. They didn’t believe in her. Angry words settled on her tongue, but her chest was too tight to voice them. “I can handle a schedule,” Chloe repeated. “I can make us some good money, too. I’d be contributing.”

“Honey, you’re contributing now,” Maddie assured her. “You’re a huge help. We couldn’t do this without you.”

“Yeah, all that taking out the garbage is invaluable,” Chloe said, heavy on the sarcasm. “Look, I can do this,” she said again, hating that she sounded vulnerable.

Hating that she felt vulnerable.

And because she knew that they wouldn’t give her what she wanted, the acceptance and the belief she needed, she grabbed her keys and cell phone. Her ever-present inhaler was already in her pocket.

“Chloe,” Tara said. “Where are you going?”

“Out. On a whim.”