‘‘ With him, Pete, you knothead.’’ It was said with exasperation and affection. ‘‘Like a boyfriend.’’

‘‘Boyfriend?’’ He snorted, started to dismiss it—Christ knew, Carol had the screwiest ideas from time to time. Like when she was all het up to take a cruise down to the Bahamas. As if he couldn’t take a sail any damn time of the day or night right in his own backyard. But then he caught—something—in the way Ethan leaned his body toward Grace, the way she tilted her head up.

It made Pete shift his feet, scowl, look away. ‘‘ Boyfriend,’’ he muttered, and didn’t know how the hell he was supposed to feel about that. He didn’t poke his nose in his daughter’s life, he reminded himself. She’d already gone her own way.

He scowled hard into the sun because he remembered what it had been like to have his little girl rest her head on his shoulder the way Aubrey was doing right then and there with Ethan Quinn.

When they were little like that, he thought, they trusted you and looked up to you and believed what you told them even if you told them thunder was just angels clapping.

When they got older they started to tug away. And to want things that didn’t make a damn bit of sense. Like money to live in New York City, and your blessing to marry some sneaky bastard who wasn’t half good enough for them.

They stopped thinking you were the man with the answers, and they broke your damn heart. So you had to put it back together as best you could, with a lock on it so it couldn’t happen again.

‘‘Ethan’s just what Grace needs,’’ Carol was saying in a low voice—just in case any of the fuddy-duddies, who thought tossing a horseshoe at an iron peg was an exciting way to spend the day, had sharp ears. ‘‘That’s a steady man, and he’s got gentleness in him. He’s a man she could lean on.’’

‘‘Won’t.’’

‘‘What?’’

‘‘She won’t lean on nobody. She’s too proud for her own good, and always has been.’’

Carol merely sighed. If it was true, Grace had gotten every stubborn ounce of that pride from her father. ‘‘You’ve never even tried to meet her halfway.’’

‘‘Don’t you start on me, Carol. I’ve got nothing to say.’’ He shifted away from her, ignoring the guilt because he knew the gesture would hurt her. ‘‘I want a beer,’’ he muttered and stalked away.