Sea Glass Island. Sherryl Woods

them in the bathroom, then stopped to let his partner, Greg Knotts, know that he was taking a break. The other Afghanistan vet gave him a knowing look.

      “Something on your mind?”

      “More like someone,” Ethan told him.

      “A woman?”

      Ethan nodded.

      Greg’s expression lit up. “Well, hallelujah! It’s about time you moved on. It was a crying shame you let an idiot like Lisa keep you from having an active social life.”

      Ethan grinned. Greg, along with Boone and his other friends, had been fiercely united in their dislike of his former fiancée. Unlike some of them, Greg had never been shy about expressing his opinion. That straightforward talk, while annoying at times, was one of the reasons they got along so well. Ethan knew he could trust Greg to have his back. Boone was the only other friend about whom he felt the same way.

      “Lisa is old news,” he told Greg. “I try not to think about her.”

      “But the woman’s still in your head,” Greg said. “I’ve seen you show a spark of interest in someone new a time or two, and then in a flash I can almost see the wheels in your head turning and that tape of her dumping you playing again. I think that’s what I hate her for the most, not that she left, but that she ripped your soul to shreds in the process.”

      It was true, Ethan thought, but refused to admit. The fact that he let a woman like Lisa control his life, even a little, was crazy. Rationally, he knew that. That didn’t make it any easier to burn that stupid mental tape Greg was talking about.

      “No more,” he insisted, more wistful than convinced that it was true.

      “I hope so,” Greg said. “So, who is she? The woman who’s got you in a dither this morning?”

      Ethan knew he wasn’t going to get out of the clinic without filling Greg in. Unlike Ethan, Greg was a happily married father of three, who yearned to live vicariously through someone else’s exciting social life. He’d pester Ethan until he spilled details.

      “A woman named Samantha Castle,” he told him.

      Greg whistled.

      Ethan regarded him with surprise. “You know her?”

      “I used to admire all of the Castle sisters from afar. They were way out of my league. Samantha was something, even back then. I’ve spotted her a few times on TV, mostly commercials, but she was in an episode of Law and Order not too long ago. Barely a walk-on, but I recognized those incredible long legs.” He sighed. “What she did for a pair of high heels ought to be outlawed. It probably is in some states.”

      Ethan chuckled. “Yeah, I can see that. Of course, she wasn’t wearing shoes when we met. Or much of anything else, for that matter.”

      Greg’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding me!”

      “I walked into the kitchen over at her grandmother’s this morning and there she was, wearing nothing but an old football jersey, reaching up into a cupboard.”

      “How’d you know it was all she was wearing?”

      “It was evident,” Ethan said, unwilling to describe the glimpse he’d gotten of her delectable bottom. Some things a man didn’t share, not even with his buddies.

      “Holy mackerel,” Greg said, his voice tinged with reverence. His expression suddenly turned speculative. “You said an old football jersey. Yours, by any chance?”

      Ethan frowned. “How’d you know?”

      “I remember hearing way back that she had a crush on you. A couple of guys we hung out with asked her out, but she turned them down flat. She was maybe fifteen, sixteen. You were a senior and all caught up with your adoring horde of beauties. If you ask me, not a one of them held a candle to her, but you were oblivious. I watched her stand on the fringes of a few beach parties, her heart in her eyes.”

      Since Boone had mentioned something similar about an old crush, Ethan couldn’t dismiss the comment. “I’m surprised you didn’t rush in to console her.”

      “Like I said, she was out of my league. And I had enough issues living in the shadow of your popularity without risking rejection by one of your adoring fans.”

      Ethan knew perfectly well that Greg’s ego had been healthy enough to withstand most anything back then. If Ethan had been a star on the offensive side of the football, Greg had been equally outstanding on defense. He’d even played both college and pro football briefly while studying medicine, a taxing combination that proved he had both brains and athletic skills, to say nothing of a whole lot of grit and determination.

      And yet with all that potential to choose either a well-paying career in pro football or an equally successful path in medicine, he, just like Ethan, had opted for tours in the military. Unlike Ethan, though, Greg had come back in one piece, physically at least. Only a handful of people knew of the nightmares that tormented him, nightmares that left him emotionally exhausted and his wife and kids shaken.

      Ethan’s understanding of the toll PTSD had taken on his friend and Greg’s insights into Ethan’s struggles to cope with his physical disability had made them the perfect partners for this medical practice in a quiet, familiar community.

      Ethan noted the signs of exhaustion on his friend’s face and realized that all this focus on his social life was masking another of Greg’s bad nights.

      “Change and come running with me,” he suggested, knowing that physical exertion could help them both. “Debra and Pam can hold the fort here and call us if there’s a sudden rush of patients. It’ll do you good. I might even let you beat me for a change.”

      Greg laughed. “Let me? Just who do you think you’re fooling? If you’re brave enough to put a little money on this, I think we’ll see that you’re no match for me.”

      “You believe that?” Ethan mocked. “You’re even more delusional than I thought.”

      “Oh, it’s true. I might just give you a head start to even up your chances,” Greg taunted. “Otherwise it wouldn’t be fair to take your money.”

      Ethan scowled at that. “I’m faster these days, even on one good leg, than you are on two. You’ve gone soft, Knotts. Now, come on. Change those clothes and lace up your running shoes. I’ll wait.”

      “Two minutes,” Greg said, accepting the challenge as Ethan had known he would. “Loser buys lunch.”

      “Works for me,” Ethan agreed.

      “And I have a hankering for a burger at Castle’s,” Greg said, his expression gloating. “Just so you know what’s at stake.”

      Ethan stared after him. Oh, he knew, all right. Lunch where there was every chance he’d catch another glimpse of Samantha? So much for clinging to whatever hard-won peace of mind he accomplished on this run.

      3

      “You sent Ethan Cole to the house without warning me,” Samantha said, giving her sister a swat. “How could you do that?”

      “I didn’t want you to tell me not to,” Emily said blithely. “And to be totally accurate, Boone sent him. I didn’t.”

      Samantha regarded her with a cynical look. “Not much of a defense, Em. Surely you can do better than that.”

      “Why should I?” Emily asked unrepentantly, then grinned. “How’d it go? Judging from your mood, I’m guessing it was exactly the push the two of you needed.”

      “We did not need a push, or a nudge or any other form of interference,” Samantha retorted.

      Emily merely rolled her eyes. “Resent me now, but once the two of you are as happy as Boone and me, you’ll thank me.”

      “You think so?” Samantha said direly.