Medical Romance September 2016 Books 1-6. Tina Beckett

a baby store bring a bunch of stuff, including his clothes. Bree loves dressing him, don’t you, Bree?”

      “Love it. Just like playing with dolls when I was little.”

      “You’re not fooling me,” Emma said, grinning, too. “I can tell from both your faces it must not be easy, which means it’s going to be even trickier for me, having only one arm for a while. Besides—” she turned her attention to Bree “—you told me the only dolls you played with as a little girl were mermaid dolls, and they were always surfing and rescuing swimmers.”

      “Did I tell you that?” Bree had to laugh. “I don’t remember, but I do remember that my dad didn’t want me playing with dolls. Had me in tennis and surf lessons and other sports from the time I was six, with all kinds of academic tutors to help me catch up at school. I worked pretty hard for his approval, but I didn’t get it very often. Probably why he left when I was ten. I never measured up to the daughter he wanted me to be.”

      Sean and Emma both turned shocked eyes to her, then seemed to study her for a long, arrested moment. She shifted uncomfortably, wondering why in the world that stupid confession and comment about her childhood and her father had fallen out of her mouth. It wasn’t as though she thought about it anymore. It was ancient history.

      “I can’t believe there was a single thing about you that didn’t measure up to your dad’s expectations. But if it’s true?” Sean’s eyes got a little hard. “Pardon me for saying it, but your dad’s an idiot.”

      “Yes. An idiot,” Emma agreed.

      Bree’s discomfort eased, and so did the tightness that had formed in her chest at the memories. “Thanks. If I win another competition, I might hear from him, and I’ll pass on your opinions then.”

      Sean’s brown gaze stayed mostly on Bree as he tucked his nephew into the crook of Emma’s arm so she could hold him close. He stood and took the two steps necessary to reach Bree, then one more that brought him within breathless inches. His finger tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear before his warm palm cupped her cheek.

      “You never talked about your dad much, in all the time we were together. Just complained about your mom, sometimes. Why?”

      “Because he’s not a part of my life, really, other than a text now and then, and the occasional phone call. Hasn’t been for years.”

      “Sure about that? Just because he wasn’t around doesn’t mean he wasn’t still there in a different way.”

      “I don’t know what you mean.” Okay, she did, but what was the point of talking about it?

      “I’m finally understanding your extreme type A competitiveness.”

      “My competitiveness doesn’t have anything to do with anything, other than I like to win.”

      “Everybody likes to win. You like to win more than most. Wanting to show your dad he was wrong.”

      She forced a light laugh. “Did you get an A in Psychology 101? Maybe it’s true, but it’s part of who I am, with or without him in my life. With or without my mother hanging on to every one of my wins like they were her own.”

      He slowly nodded, then closed the inches between them to press his lips to her cheek. Let them deliciously linger, and she couldn’t help but let her eyes drift closed for just a moment to better soak in how good they felt against her skin. “Always remember—who you are is one amazing woman.”

      His hands squeezed her shoulders before he went back to sit on the side of Emma’s bed, admiring his nephew with her.

      She watched as the two of them smiled at one another with the kind of special family connection Bree didn’t understand. That they’d always had, even when they were annoyed with each other, which had been a lot the past year or so.

      They gazed in wonder at the baby and one another, talked about the little guy and his fussiness and perfection and how much their mother would adore him. How much their dad would have loved him. It struck her that someone who didn’t know might have thought it was a beautiful, tender moment between husband and wife.

      This was one of the things Sean wanted someday. Someone he passionately adored, someone he could have a child with, someone to help him complete the perfect family he so desired.

      “I...have to get back to work,” she said, turning toward the door. “I’ll come get Will when I’m done.”

      She didn’t wait for a response, but somehow could feel Sean’s gaze on her back. She could guess what he might be thinking as he watched her leave, but wouldn’t let herself wonder or care.

      As if, with their present situation, that were even close to possible.