around inside the restaurant after a boarded-up front window had given way to the storm’s fury.
He was supposed to be over her. Wasn’t that what he’d told Gabriella not ten minutes before Emily had walked in the door and caught him off guard? He’d meant it, hadn’t he? He was not going to allow her to stomp all over his emotions a second time, especially not with B.J. to consider.
Though he’d been out on a couple of dates since Jenny’s death, he’d made it a point to keep his son out of the mix. After his own mother had paraded half a dozen men through his life before settling on a replacement for his dad, he knew the dangers of allowing a child to get too attached to someone who wouldn’t be staying.
Unfortunately, that didn’t seem feasible with Emily, not with the two of them in the kitchen right this second apparently whooping it up with the rest of the Castles. With Cora Jane’s undoubted encouragement, his son and Emily were probably bonding even now.
B.J. emerged just then, his face sticky with maple syrup and his eyes round with excitement. “Daddy, did you know that Emily knows movie stars?” he asked, pretty much proving Boone’s point.
“Does she really?” Boone said, his tone offhand, though a perverse part of him wanted to know every detail.
“She’s been in their houses and everything,” B.J. reported. “She even met Johnny Depp once. Isn’t that awesome?”
Boone wondered what the appropriate response was. Should he express an enthusiasm he wasn’t feeling, deliver a lecture on the fact that celebrities were merely people just like everyone else, or let the moment pass and accept that Emily had impressed his son with a lifestyle he could never match?
“Hey, Daddy, how come you never told me you knew somebody famous?” B.J. asked.
“I’m not sure that working for celebrities makes Emily famous,” Boone said cautiously.
“Not her,” B.J. said impatiently. “Samantha. She does those soap shows on TV, and she was in a play on Broadway. She even did a commercial for that cereal I like. She was the mom, remember? I didn’t recognize her right off, because she’s prettier in person.”
Boone recalled only that every time he’d spotted Samantha in any commercial, she’d reminded him of Emily and, out of loyalty to Jenny, he’d tried his best to wipe all those memories out of his mind.
“You gotta come in the kitchen, Dad,” B.J. urged. “They’re telling the best stories.”
“We came here to help Ms. Cora Jane clean up, remember?”
“But she’s in the kitchen, too,” B.J. protested. “I think she’s happy her granddaughters came home.”
Boone imagined she was. He’d seen the yearning in her eyes when she’d talked about them. Oh, she’d bragged about their accomplishments, her pride showing, but he’d heard the note of wistfulness she couldn’t successfully hide, at least from him. Undoubtedly she was thrilled to pieces that a hurricane had brought them running home.
Too bad none of them came around when there wasn’t a crisis.
“And guess what else?” B.J. said as he dragged a reluctant Boone toward the kitchen. “Emily’s never been to Disneyland, so I said we’d come to California and she could go with us. We can do that, right?”
Boone stopped in his tracks. Things were suddenly moving way too fast. He hunkered down and looked into his son’s eyes. “B.J., you know Emily’s just here for a visit,” he cautioned.
“I know. That’s why I said we’ll come to see her,” B.J. responded reasonably.
“Son, don’t start counting on Emily, okay?”
B.J. clearly didn’t comprehend the warning. “What about Disneyland, Dad? You promised we’d go there, so why can’t she come with us?”
Boone counted to ten. It wasn’t B.J.’s fault that this entire conversation was making him a little crazy. “Actually I promised to take you to Disney World in Florida, so we could stop by and see your grandparents, remember?” Boone said patiently, but he knew he was fighting a losing battle. B.J. had the tenacity of a pit bull, and he wasn’t going to drop this, at least not right now. To his son, the two amusement parks were clearly interchangeable. And, sadly, Jenny’s folks were likely no competition for the glamorous Emily. He could just imagine the outcry, though, if he chose to take B.J. to California rather than Florida. There would be hell to pay.
“Well, I want to go to Disneyland and I want her to come,” B.J. said, his expression mutinous. “You promised!”
Boone sighed. “We’ll talk about it later.”
Was there even the