Free Beside a Dreamswept Sea by Vicki Hinze

wouldn’t do it. But that hadn’t occurred to him. Acceptance by Bryce felt . . . refreshing. Even welcome. She smiled back at him. “I like your kids.”
    Bryce grunted, letting his gaze roam over her face. “They are entertaining.”
    Here it came, she thought. Now he’d ask if she had kids and she’d have to say no. Lord, but she hoped her voice didn’t tremble or sound pitiful when she admitted it. Why hadn’t she anticipated his reaction and avoided it?
    “Sometimes they’re also crippling.” He motioned toward his swollen knee with the tip of the cane. “But they’re worth it.”
    “I’m sure they are.” An empty little ache rippled through Cally’s chest, and a tree-size splinter of envy. He was the sunshine of his home. “Does the knee hurt much?”
    “Like the dickens.” He slid her a sheepish look. “On the improvement front, I guess your first impression of me isn’t getting much of an assist from my second one. Not very macho to admit pain, is it?”
    “Oh, I don’t know.” Gregory never had admitted to any shortcoming. To any failing. In pointing out flaws, he’d focused on Cally’s. “I think it makes you kind of human.”
    “Human. Hmm, I’ll take it. Human is a start—especially after a rough morning. I’ll work on improving it.”
    He cared what kind of impression he’d made? He was interested in her? Impossible. Never happen. “Thanks for pinning on the flower and sparing me the stick. It, um, seemed important to Suzie that I wear it.” More than a little curious, Cally added, “I’m not sure why.”
    “With Suzie, one can never be sure of much of anything.” Something akin to pain flashed through his eyes. “She’s going through a few . . . challenges.”
    “A shame. She’s a beautiful child.” She should be happy and having fun, enjoying her youth. God knew she’d face a woman’s problems soon enough. “I’m sorry, Bryce.”
    “Yeah, me, too.” He studied Cally in much the way she had him, and the look in his eyes warmed.
    After years of Gregory looking through her, it felt odd to be looked at as a woman by a man again. Feeling exposed and vulnerable terrified her, but that look also ribboned a length of feminine prowess through her that was sheer pleasure. A ribbon she didn’t trust, or think she was ready to feel.
    He touched the stem. “Does it look straight to you?” Clasping her shoulders, he turned her to face the cheval mirror.
    Cally squeezed her eyes shut, unable and unwilling to look at herself in the oval glass, then turned back toward him. “It’s fine.” She tried to smile, but even to her it felt more like a grimace. “Thank you.”
    A flicker of surprise passed through Bryce’s eyes, then faded to confusion. He’d noticed her avoiding her reflection in the mirror, damn it, and the unasked question of why lurked in his eyes. She ignored it. No way was she going to explain. How could a woman explain hating mirrors because of what she’d been shown in them? Caline Tate. A failure. A woman thirty-two with everything she’d never wanted.
    “While I’m groveling,” Bryce said, “I want to thank you for the rescue, too.”
    Bryce Richards grovel? Highly unlikely. She cocked her head. “Ah, Jeremy and—Mrs. Wiggins, was it?”
    “It was.” Bryce flicked at a strand of hair clinging to Cally’s cheek. She flushed beneath his touch, and he seemed a little bemused by it. “She’s already quit once this morning. If you hadn’t stepped in, I’m afraid the frog chase would have earned us a second resignation.”
    Cally grinned. She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t help herself. “Glad to be of service.” If it was a service. She had to admit, at least to herself, she wasn’t sure. Mrs. Wiggins didn’t exactly strike Cally as a warm and loving woman who much liked kids.
    And yet she had Bryce’s three, while Cally, who adored them, had none.
    “Did I say something wrong?” Bryce sounded worried.
    Cally blinked, forced a