Ethan turned back, took another look at her. She was getting some sun, and it looked good on her. Warmed her skin. She had a long face that went with the long body— though the chin tended to be stubborn. A man could take a glance and he would see a long, cool blonde—a pretty body, a face that made you want to look just a little longer.

And if you did, you’d see shadows under the big green eyes and weariness around the soft mouth.

‘‘You don’t have to do that, Grace. You ought to go on home and relax a while. You’re on at Shiney’s tonight, aren’t you?’’

‘‘I’ve got time—and I promised Seth sloppy joes. It won’t take me long.’’ She shifted as Ethan continued to stare at her. She’d long ago accepted that those long, thoughtful looks from him would stir her blood. Just another of life’s little problems, she supposed. ‘‘What?’’ she demanded, and rubbed a hand over her cheek as if expecting to find a smudge.

‘‘Nothing. Well, if you’re going to cook, you ought to hang around and help us eat it.’’

‘‘I’d like that.’’ She relaxed again and moved forward to take the bucket and mop from him and put them away herself. ‘‘Aubrey loves being here with you and Seth. Why don’t you go on in with them? I’ve got some laundry to finish up, then I’ll start dinner.’’

‘‘I’ll give you a hand.’’

‘‘No, you won’t.’’ It was another point of pride for her. They paid her, she did the work. All the work. ‘‘Go on in the front room—and be sure to ask Seth about the math test he got back today.’’

‘‘How’d he do?’’

‘‘Another A.’’ She winked and shooed Ethan away. Seth had such a sharp brain, she thought as she headed into the laundry room, off the kitchen. If she’d had a better head for figures, for practical matters when she’d been younger, she wouldn’t have dreamed her way through school.

She’d have learned a skill, a real one, not just serving drinks and tending house or picking crabs. She’d have had a career to fall back on when she found herself alone and pregnant, with all her hopes of running off to New York to be a dancer dashed like glass on brick.

It had been a silly dream anyway, she told herself, unloading the dryer and shifting the wet clothes from the washer into it. Pie in the sky, her mama would say. But the fact was, growing up, there had only been two things she’d wanted. The dance, and Ethan Quinn.

She’d never gotten either.