Sea Glass Island. Sherryl Woods

      “She’d never do that to Emily,” Boone said, though he looked vaguely shaken by Ethan’s assessment. “At least I don’t think she would.”

      “You said there was some sort of issue between the two of them. Can you see any possible way that this is helping, rather than making things worse? How would you feel if I kept pushing somebody on you after you’d declared you had no interest?”

      Ethan realized he’d taken the debate one step too far when amusement sparkled in Boone’s eyes.

      “You did your share of pushing when Emily and I were trying to put things back together and you thought we were getting offtrack.”

      “Entirely different,” Ethan claimed. “You were meant to be together. That much was clear even to someone as antiromance as I am.”

      “And you and Samantha aren’t meant to be?”

      “We aren’t,” Ethan said adamantly. “As my friend, you certainly are well aware of my stance on relationships and love. I’m a nonbeliever.”

      “You’re just scared,” Boone countered.

      Ethan gave him a scowl that should have shaken him to his core.

      Instead, Boone looked amused. “Okay, let’s say you’re not terrified of taking a risk. What makes you think you know what she’s thinking? Exactly how much time have you spent with her?”

      “Come on, Boone. It’s plain as day. We couldn’t be any more different. She’s a glamorous actress living in New York. I’m a small-town, one-legged doctor,” he said with brutal honesty. “It just doesn’t compute.”

      The expression in Boone’s eyes turned surprisingly angry. “If I ever hear you sell yourself short like that again, I swear I will knock you off that good leg of yours and pummel some sense into you.”

      “Just being realistic,” Ethan said, though he was admittedly a little touched by Boone’s quick and vehement defense. For a guy who’d once looked up at Ethan as if he were some sort of hero, Boone didn’t seem the least bit shy about calling it as he saw it now. He was the kind of friend a man needed, even if Ethan wondered whether or not he deserved it.

      “Nonsense,” Boone declared. “Give the woman a chance. That’s all any of us are asking. What’s the worst-case scenario? You’ll have spent a couple of weeks in the company of a very sexy woman. No harm, no foul.”

      Since a similar thought had crossed Ethan’s mind, he could hardly muster a believable argument against the casual interlude Boone was describing. It just felt wrong, though. Someone was bound to get hurt. No matter how innocently things started, in his experience someone always got hurt.

      “And if one of us winds up getting hurt?” he asked Boone. “Are you going to carve out my heart if it’s Samantha who gets burned?”

      “I’m pretty sure Samantha can take care of herself.” Boone leveled a curious look at him. “Are you thinking that could happen to you, though? Are you more attracted to Samantha than I realized?”

      “Absolutely not,” Ethan said, probably a little too forcefully. “I’m just saying it could happen to either one of us. Do you and Emily and Cora Jane and whoever else is involved in this romantic conspiracy want to take responsibility for that? Because if you push and things blow up, that’s on you, too.”

      “I think we’re all looking at the upside,” Boone said. “We’re very big on happy endings these days.”

      Ethan shook his head. “Yeah, you would be, but not all of us are that lucky, pal. I speak from experience. Maybe you should leave this alone and stop tampering with fate.”

      Just then B.J., Boone’s son, walked inside, a scowl on his face. “Are you guys ever coming? Emily just called your cell phone, Dad. I think she’s getting ticked off because we’re not there.”

      Ethan grinned at the sudden panic on the groom’s face. “And maybe that’s the relationship you should be focusing on,” he advised his friend. “That’s all I’m saying.”

      “Okay, yeah. I get it,” Boone said.

      But even though his words sounded sincere enough, Ethan had a hunch the meddling was far from over.

      * * *

      Samantha was very much aware of Ethan standing across the lawn all alone, a can of soda in his hand. He looked as if he’d rather be just about any place other than a bridal shower overrun by eager matchmakers. She could relate. Since she was probably the only one there who could, she crossed the yard to join him, taking two fresh glasses of champagne with her.

      “You look as if you’re in need of this,” she commented.

      He lifted a brow. “I don’t think champagne is the answer.”

      “Then what is?” she asked, downing the last of her own drink. She’d discovered that two glasses was just the right amount to create a happy little buzz. Three was apparently one too many, she concluded as she wobbled slightly.

      He gave her a wry look. “Keeping my mind on full alert.”

      “Ah, to avoid all the devious scheming going on around here tonight,” she concluded.

      “Exactly.”

      “Want to go for a walk, instead? I think I might be the tiniest bit tipsy. A walk would be good.”

      “It will also lend fodder to the family gossip mill,” he suggested.

      She airily waved off the warning. “Oh, so what? We’re tougher than that.”

      He smiled. “If you say so.”

      They’d walked down the driveway and started around the block when she paused and twirled around. It made her head spin, which was unfortunate, but she managed to stay upright with Ethan’s steady hand on her elbow.

      “You okay?” he asked worriedly. “Any particular reason you decided to do that twirl?”

      “I was showing off my dress. Do you like it? Grandmother thought you might.”

      She watched as Ethan’s gaze dipped to the cleavage displayed by the dress’s neckline. There was no mistaking the heated reaction as his gaze lingered. She giggled.

      “She was right. You do like it, don’t you? Especially the neckline. I’ve absolutely got to give that woman more credit. She is very, very wise. And sneaky.” She bobbed her head. “Yep, she is definitely sneaky.”

      Ethan sighed. “Exactly how tipsy are you, Samantha?”

      “Not tipsy,” she insisted. “That’s not possible. I can hold my liquor. I’ve only had three, or maybe four, glasses of champagne.” She glanced at the empty glass in her hand. “Could be five. I just finished the one I brought for you.”

      “Have you eaten today?”

      She thought about it. She couldn’t recall having anything since the bowl of cereal and yogurt she’d had for breakfast. “Not so much.”

      “Then let’s get you back to the party and get some food into you.”

      “More champagne would be lovely,” she told him.

      “I don’t think so.”

      “Okay,” she said compliantly, clearly startling him. Surprising him felt good. She couldn’t help wondering what he thought of her, especially after all the interfering attempts to push them together. “Am I pitiful, Ethan?”

      He stared at her with a shocked expression. “Absolutely not. Why would you ask something like that?”

      “Because no one in my family seems to think I can find a man on my own.”

      “Then that would have to make me pitiful, too, since I’m the one they’ve targeted for you. Do you think I’m