Page 93 of A Beach House Beginning

The sheer, unaffected joy in her daughter’s smile hit her like a fist in the gut. Oh, she had missed that smile. Tears burned behind her eyes and she blinked them away, taking in how well Hope was moving. Her coordination hadn’t completely returned, but as they moved to the music, she seemed much more in control of her limbs.

Christa looked at the man who had brought about such amazing progress. He watched Hope with pride and delight and a deep affection, and to her eyes he had never looked as gorgeous.

It’s not every day a guy like me gets to be part of a miracle, he had said.

Something bright and hard flashed through her and settled in the vicinity of her heart. She rubbed at her chest, and for one panicked second she wanted to rush back out of the house and slam the door behind her.

Something monumental had just changed, and she wasn’t at all sure she was ready to face it.

She didn’t want this. He was entwining himself through their lives, and she didn’t know how they would ever be able to untangle themselves.

Jace was the first to spot her. He halted, and she saw something leap into his gaze, something hot and welcoming.

She had to swallow hard before she trusted her voice. “You don’t have to stop dancing on my account.”

At the sound of her voice, Hope turned and grinned at her mother. “Hi, Mom. Jace likes to dance.”

Her words were barely slurred, Christa thought, marveling all over again at her progress.

“You both looked great.”

“M’feet still don’t work right.” Frustration filtered through the glow and Christa shook her head.

“That will come, baby. You know it will. Look how far you’ve come! A few months ago you couldn’t stand at all, and now you’re dancing!”

Hope didn’t look convinced until Jace planted an affectionate kiss on her forehead. “You’re the best partner I’ve had in longer than I can remember.”

“My mom’s a good dancer, too,” Hope said.

Jace slanted a look toward Christa. “Is that right?”

“Oh, definitely,” Ellen piped up. “Christa always used to love to dance. You should have seen her waltz around by herself during Saturday-night Lawrence Welk reruns on PBS. She was better than any of the dancers on there.”

“Thanks for sharing that, Mom,” Christa muttered as Jace laughed.

“I’m sorry I missed that.”

“Me, too,” Hope said.

Though she grinned at her mother, Christa could see her legs tremble, her muscles still weak. Jace must have sensed it, too. He guided her to her favorite easy chair and helped her transfer into it.

When she was settled, he shoved his hands in his pockets. He seemed extraordinarily masculine surrounded by three women.

“I’ll get out of your way,” he said, though he didn’t look at all as if he wanted to go.

Christa debated with herself for only a moment. She had missed him, she suddenly realized.

“You don’t have to.” She spoke quickly, before she changed her mind. “Why don’t you stay? It’s my night to cook and I’m grilling chicken.”

She saw her mother look up from her quilting frame, her eyes wide with surprise at the invitation.

“Yes, do, Jace,” Ellen urged with a sudden smile.

“Stay.” Hope added her voice to the chorus. “Mom’s grilled chicken is yum.”

Given how much time he spent here when she wasn’t home, she might have expected him to jump at the invitation. Instead reluctance flickered in the dark blue depths of his eyes.

She was certain he would refuse, but finally he smiled. “A man would have to be crazy to refuse a chance to share a meal with three such lovely ladies. I’m definitely not crazy. All right.”

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