Sea Glass Island. Sherryl Woods

he hear her soft gasp. It was enough to tell him she’d seen the prosthetic, or guessed. It was impossible to tell which. He also had the distinct impression no one had warned her.

      His friends said his movements looked a hundred percent normal to them, but they would say that. They were all so darned careful not to offend.

      He got into the car, put the key in the ignition and glanced her way, waiting to see if she’d bring it up or sit there in embarrassed silence.

      “Iraq?” she asked simply.

      “Afghanistan,” he responded.

      “You manage very well.”

      “Not well enough to keep you from noticing,” he commented wryly.

      “I just caught a glimpse of the prosthetic,” she said. “Otherwise I’d never have figured it out.”

      “And your sister and Boone neglected to mention it?”

      “Not a word,” she confirmed.

      He wondered, as always, if it changed anything, but he wasn’t about to ask. He’d figure that out soon enough. His radar was finely tuned these days. There’d be a pitying look or a faint expression of distaste, quickly hidden, but detectable since he’d learned to watch for the signs.

      Worse, sometimes, there was the curiosity, the undue fascination that seemed to stem from a desire to figure out just what else might have been affected by the explosion that took his lower leg. Lisa’s most crushing impact had been to make him so self-conscious that the prospect of intimacy was far less appealing than it had once been to someone with his healthy libido.

      “Did it take a long time to adjust?” Samantha asked.

      “Physically? Sure, but I was highly motivated. I worked at it,” he said with a shrug, minimizing the months of painful rehab that had threatened to shatter his normal optimism more than once.

      “And emotionally?”

      He was surprised that she’d dared to ask that. Most people didn’t risk going there.

      “Still a work in progress,” he admitted. “I don’t want anyone pitying me.”

      She smiled at that. “I wouldn’t think they’d dare. Not in this town, which still has a memorial wall dedicated to your extraordinary feats on the football field.”

      “It’s not a wall,” he said, flushing. “It’s a couple of pictures outside the gym.”

      “Have you been back to the high school recently? It’s a wall,” she insisted, then grinned as she acknowledged, “Which is not to say you don’t deserve it. Leading the team to two state championships is nothing to sneeze at. A record number of touchdown passes both years. Not too shabby, Cole.”

      Ethan regarded her with surprise. It wasn’t just her up-to-date awareness of his football achievements and the school’s embarrassing tribute, but her cut-to-the-chase insights. “You’re not at all what I expected,” he told her.

      “Oh?” She gave him an amused look. “Something tells me you were thinking vain and shallow.”

      He winced at the accurate guess. “Something like that,” he admitted.

      “It’s a common curse in my profession,” she conceded. “But I try never to be predictable.”

      “So far you’re doing a good job,” he said. In fact, she was so unpredictable he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her, and that really, really worried him.

      A few minutes later, he pulled up in front of the new art studio being run by her sister Gabriella. He’d been to the opening a couple of months back, mostly as a favor to Boone. His knowledge of art was limited to recognizing a van Gogh when he saw one...as long as it was a painting of sunflowers. Beyond that he’d been hopeless in art appreciation classes.

      “You’re having your dress fitting here?” he asked, puzzled by the choice.

      “Gabi can’t get away. Emily’s freaking out that we’re running out of time. Since everyone’s goal these days is to calm the bride’s jittery nerves, we do whatever she asks.” She grinned at him. “You might want to keep that in mind. I’m pretty sure Boone is living by the same rules. He could probably use a whole lot of moral support from his best man.”

      “Not a doubt in my mind about that, and I plan to do my best,” Ethan said, then grinned. “I’m under strict orders from Cora Jane.”

      Samantha laughed. “Yes, she can strike terror into the hearts of most people I know, but she is amazing.”

      “No argument from me about that.”

      She studied him for a minute. “I know you’re older than me, and that also makes you older than Boone. How’d the two of you wind up as such good friends?” Her gaze narrowed. “Or are you? Please, God, tell me that Emily didn’t pressure Boone into asking you to be his best man just because of me, did she?”

      Ethan laughed. “I have no idea when the diabolical plotting started, Samantha, but Boone and I have been friends for years. Our families were close. The age difference never seemed to matter much. We bonded over sports. We’ve been there for each other through some tough times.”

      “When Boone lost his wife,” Samantha guessed.

      Ethan gave her a long look. “And when he lost Emily before that. I was mostly away back then in med school, but I was around enough to know she broke his heart. I hope she’s not going to do it again.”

      “Not a chance,” Samantha said, not even trying to deny that her sister had made a terrible mistake years before by choosing her career over Boone. “She knows how lucky she is that they have this second chance.”

      “Second chances are hard to come by,” Ethan said.

      “Voice of experience?” she asked him.

      “You could say that.”

      She looked as if she wanted to probe a little more deeply, but Ethan forestalled her questions by asking, “You’ll have a way to get back home from here?”

      Though she was clearly disconcerted by the change of topic, she merely nodded. “Sure. Emily, if I’m still speaking to her after this morning’s turn of events. If not, I’m sure Grandmother will take pity on me and let me use her car.”

      “If that doesn’t work out, give me a call. I have a light morning at the clinic, unless some big emergency crops up. I can always run you back home.” Even as the offer came out of his mouth, he was mentally kicking himself for making it. Spending any more time with this woman than absolutely necessary was probably emotional suicide.

      She grinned at him. “You almost made that sound like a sincere offer,” she said.

      “It was,” he insisted.

      She shook her head. “Something tells me we shouldn’t be giving them any encouragement. I’ve seen how my family works, Ethan. One tiny little hint that their meddling is working and they won’t let up. Do you really want the aggravation?”

      “No, I suppose not,” he said, surprised to find that a part of him was actually disappointed at the prospect of running across her only when their wedding duties required it.

      “Okay, then,” she said breezily. “Thanks for the lift. See you around, I’m sure.”

      “See you,” he mumbled, and watched her go. He told himself his inability to tear his gaze away was purely masculine appreciation of a gorgeous woman, but the truth was, there was also just the tiniest twinge of regret.

      * * *

      Unfortunately the clinic was even quieter than Ethan had predicted, which made his determination to keep his mind off Samantha Castle much harder to achieve. If he closed his eyes for so much as a second, he could see that old football jersey of his riding up her bare backside as she stretched