Sand Castle Bay (Ocean Breeze) - By Sherryl Woods Page 0,3

if her acting career had never taken off quite the way she’d envisioned.

“Where’s Gabi?” Emily asked, glancing around.

“Three guesses.”

“Gram insisted on going home,” Emily said readily.

“Got it in one,” Samantha confirmed. “The minute they allowed residents back out there, Gram packed her bag. Gabi stalled her for a day, then told her if she was going to be stubborn as an old mule, at least she wasn’t going alone. They left this morning at dawn, so I stuck around to be your designated driver.”

“Do you actually remember how to drive?” Emily inquired skeptically. “You’ve been living in New York a long time.”

Samantha merely lifted a brow, which told Emily what her sister thought about her sense of humor. That was the thing about having an actress in the family. Samantha could convey more with a look than most people could with an entire diatribe. Emily had been on the receiving end of a lot of those looks over the years.

“Do not start with me,” Samantha warned. “I made it here, didn’t I?”

Emily nodded toward the waiting car. “Is that the same car you drove from New York? Or did you have to trade in a wreck?”

“You are not amusing,” Samantha retorted. She glanced at the compact carry-on Emily had brought. “That’s it? That’s all your luggage?”

Emily shrugged. “I’m used to traveling light. I was in Aspen on a job when I heard about the storm. I didn’t have time to go back to Los Angeles to pick up more things.”

“Anything in there suitable for mopping and scrubbing?” Samantha asked doubtfully. “I just don’t see you mucking out the family restaurant in your designer heels. Those are Louboutins, right? You always did have expensive taste.”

Heat climbed in Emily’s cheeks. “I work with people who are obsessed with designer labels, but you can bet I do my share of hard labor when I’m renovating a house,” she retorted defensively, then sighed. “But you’re right about my wardrobe not being suitable for cleaning. This trip to Colorado was a quick meet-and-greet with a new client, so I probably need to pick up some shorts and T-shirts someplace. What about you? You usually look like a fashion plate yourself. What’s with the faded jeans and...” Her eyes widened. “Is that Ethan Cole’s old football jersey?”

Samantha blushed furiously. “It was in a box of stuff in Gabi’s attic. I grabbed whatever still fit.”

“That shirt doesn’t fit,” Emily scoffed. “It’s at least six sizes too big. It makes you look like a fourteen-year-old girl with a crush on the captain of the football team.” She allowed a slow grin to spread. “Oh, wait, that was you, wasn’t it? Sitting in the bleachers all wide-eyed and hopeful?”

“Do you realize if you keep this up, you might not live long enough to get to Sand Castle Bay?” Samantha asked tartly. “I imagine I can find some deserted section of highway where I can toss your body.”

“Nice talk to your baby sister,” Emily retorted. “You always swore you loved me, even when I was being a total pain.”

“Back then I did,” Samantha confirmed with a grin of her own. “Who could resist a cute, chubby-cheeked little thing?” She shrugged. “Now, not so much.”

Once they were on the road heading east, Emily’s mood sobered. “Has anyone heard how bad things are over there? What’s Grandmother going to find when she walks into the restaurant?”

“Apparently Boone told her it was still standing, just badly flooded and in need of a lot of tender, loving care and, more than likely, a new roof.”

Emily froze, her heart doing an unexpected stutter step. “Boone? Surely you’re not talking about Boone Dorsett. What does he have to do with anything?”

“He and Cora Jane are thick as thieves these days,” Samantha said, then gave her a quick sympathetic glance. “Didn’t you know?”

“Why would I know? Nobody tells me anything.” At least not anything that might matter, such as the fact that her own grandmother and the bane of her existence, Mr. Boone Dorsett, were pals.

Oh, her grandmother had always had a soft spot for Boone. She’d taken to him the minute he’d started coming around with Emily the summer they’d both turned fourteen. While Emily had fallen for a bad boy with a dangerous edge most likely headed for trouble, Cora Jane had seen a boy rebelling against parents who didn’t care. She’d seen potential and, to her credit, nourished it.

Still, shouldn’t she have cut her ties with Boone when Emily had, out of family solidarity