Page 1 of So Close

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Auburn stepped inside Bob’s Tavern and surveyed the scene. The left side was packed full of families on vacation—moms with bad sunburns, kids enjoying a rarely-allowed soda, dads relaxed and expansive. The right side was peopled with regulars, and that was where she went: to the bar, where she grabbed two stools and greeted the bartender.

“Hey, Ulysses.” Ulysses, a sixty-something ex-hippie with a long, gray ponytail, had been working at Bob’s as long as Auburn could remember.

“Hey, kiddo. I heard about Carl. What’s the latest?”

Auburn bit her lip at the mention of her beloved boss and surrogate dad. “He’s doing great. I visited him at the hospital this afternoon, and he looks so much better. He’ll be back to work at Beachcrest in no time.”

“It was a heart attack?”

“A mild one. A warning, they said. He needs to make some changes—better diet, more exercise, less stress—you know the drill.”

“You tell him that when he feels better he should come by my Monday night Centering with Cannabis group at The Weed Garden. Best way to de-stress, and now one hundred percent legal.”

“Um, will do,” Auburn said, hiding a smile. Down-to-earth and relatively strait-laced Carl was not going to take Ulysses up on that invitation any time soon, she knew.

“You holding down the fort at the inn while he’s recovering?”

She nodded.

“He’s lucky to have you. If this had happened six months ago, you woulda still been in New York.”

“I know. I’m glad I’m not still in New York. For all the reasons.”

“We’re glad you’re back, too, kiddo,” Ulysses said.

Two arms wrapped around Auburn from behind and she turned into her sister’s hug. She pressed her face into Chiara’s hair, breathing in her comforting apple-cinnamon smell. She would never take Chiara—or pretty much anything in Tierney Bay—for granted again. Even months after returninghome, it still freaked her out to think that she’d come so close to giving it all up.

“Hey, sis,” Chiara murmured, releasing Auburn. “Hey, U,” she greeted the bartender, who smiled at her and went back to drying glasses. Turning to Auburn, she said, “How’s Carl doing?”

“Much, much better. He’ll be out in a couple of days. They think in time for July 4th festivities.”

“Thank God,” Chiara said. “I’m so glad.” She touched her sister’s cheek affectionately, then said, “Hey, I gotta run to the restroom. Will you order a drink for me?”

Auburn nodded. “What do you want?”

“Dunno. What are you having?”

“Peach on the Beach.”

Chiara grinned. “Not ‘sex on the beach?’”

“What is thissexof which you speak?”

“Oh, no, no. That is tragic. We’ve gotta change that, hon.”

Auburn scrunched her nose. “Not sure I’m there yet.”

Chiara regarded her for a long moment, then shook her head. “Well. Order me one, too. And while I’m gone, check out the hottie at the end of the bar. He could put the sex back in your beach. Orpeach.”

Auburn rolled her eyes at her sister, but once Chiara was gone, she snuck a peek. Her sister hadn’t been exaggerating. He was tall, dark, and handsome; broad shouldered; and wearing one hell of an expensive suit. Auburn should know—she’d been all-but-married to a Wall Street hedge fund manager. The guy at the end of the bar knew how to wear a suit, too—he had both the body and the attitude for it. Auburn’s girl parts gave a little involuntary shiver.Not for you, she reminded them.We’ve sworn off guys like that. Permanently.

Also, who the hell wore a suit in a beach town bar?

She stole one more glance and admired the way the linen hugged him. Custom-tailored to emphasize the power in those shoulders.

Her attention was yanked away by the sound of breaking glass—a tray being dropped. Auburn knew that sound well from years of waiting tables and it was theworst. She swung off her stool and went to help.

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